1992?

While I have stopped photographing professionally to concentrate on my new role as a full time carer / logistician, I have decided to spend my nights drinking and scanning old family negs. While I didn't take any of the pics, I really do appreciate learning more about them and myself. It's an interesting experience, although it does help you thinks perhaps more as they were than as you remember them being. I'm unsure of whether this is a good thing or not.

Mum, Portsea, 1992ish. Photographer unknown, possibly my father.  

Metastasis

A week ago today, mum was due to be discharged from the hospital. I jumped in the car and started driving there to pick her up when she called and said that they had booked an interpreter, who couldn't be there til 3. This was irregular, as the Royal Melbourne usually checks first to make sure patients have actually requested an interpreter.

I killed some time and met her there at 3. An oncologist, two nurses, interpreter, and an intern all filed into my mum's cubicle. The oncologist sat at the foot of my mums bed, and the nurse who had taken care of my mum's trial sat next to her. The interpreter stood in the corner.

The oncologist explained that she had bad news. In the month since mum had started the trial and had had her initial CT scans, 15 new tumours, the largest of which was 2.8 cms wide had developed in mum's brain. Two more had grown in her spine. The growth was aggressive, unexpected, and had explained all her symptoms. They explained that although a neurosurgeon would visit her later in the day, surgery was highly unlikely, and the next course of action would be to pull her off the trial and begin immediate radiotherapy to the brain.

Since then, mum has been discharged from the hospital. She has spent the last week at my aunt's house, where there is constantly someone home, and my aunt's can cook her something more agreeable to her palate. We have visited the bank to discuss taxes in transferring large sums of money. We have visited solicitors to revise and discuss her will. Today was spent at the radiotherapists completing another CT. Palliative care nurses have started visiting.

The day before mum was due home. They had changed her medication again, and wanted to see if steroids and an increase in pain killers would help. 

Despite constant care from dedicated nurses, mum was still exhausted and nauseous. 

Although I don't particularly care for the show, mum loves watching The Voice. During an ad break, she remembered to take her pain and anti nausea meds. 

Just after being told about the metastasis to her brain. 

My aunts were waiting for me to drop her off. After the doctors left the room, she called them to let them know what was happening and that she would be late. 

Over the fortnight that she was in hospital, I wanted nothing more than for her to return home. Sleeping in hospitals sucks, and all you can do is lie in bed or walk down hallways. Her being discharged was meant to be a happy occasion. 

Reflection after being discharged from hospital. 

Mum explaining to my aunt the situation. 

Maria and Arminda

So, this is actually a bit old, but as you can appreciate, I haven't had a great deal of time to update this blog.

Recently, I was fortunate enough to photograph the work of an organisation called East Timor Hearts Fund. These guys, to say the very least, are amazing. I don't generally like to toot my own horn, but fortunately The Age picked up the story, and ran it page one in their sunday print edition. 

Here is a pic of the lovely young Arminda, 12, with a copy of herself on the cover of The Sunday Age.

9 Out Of 10

Mum's health hasn't been great lately. Her pain meds just aren't doing it. She's been feeling nauseas, but on the other hand, she hasn't really been eating. Codeine based pain meds make you blocked up, so there was close to a week where she couldn't use the bathroom. After the second or third day where she tried convincing me she was fine, we went to hospital. After a few days, she started to improve, but a day later she wasn't doing too well.

After I had arrived home from shooting a job, she told me she had thrown up earlier, but that she was now fine and had held down some beetroot and apple juice. She then threw up across me. She then asked me to rub her back and tried to sleep sitting up to ease her pain. The next day, we went through emergency again. That was 5 days ago.

It's been a long week. I'm probably not the right frame of mind to keep typing.

Mum was feeling cold. She was in a fair bit of pain and the endone wasn't really taking the edge off her pain. 

Talking to the study nurse about mum's condition. 

After being admitted through emergency, finally a room. 

Mum's room overlooked the northern suburbs. She was trying to identify landmarks from her window. 

My aunt's visit my mum in hospital.

Struggling to find an appetite. 

Mum asked me if she looked skinny. She told me anyone who had visited her had told her she had looked sick, tired, and skinny. 

After mum had spent four days in bed, she asked me to walk with her through the hospital. After hours, the place is devoid of visitors. Other than the occasional orderly or security guard, the place is a bit of a ghost town. Mum was watching it from the glass walkway of level 5. 

Surrendering Control

Over the past few months (or years),  I've been stuck in a rut. I've been in a routine of going to hospital, or going to work. I feel like life hasn't really been in my hands and has been controlled and regulated by my circumstances. While I appreciate that I'm in a unique situation, I can't help but feel that I have been consumed by boredom, monotony, and all the shit I generally hate. On the way to visiting mum in hospital, I thought I would pick up a shitty old russian lomo (the original ones.. not the made in china 'lets pay too much for a box with no aperture, shutter speed, or focus' toys) and took some random pics of stuff. (I am aware of how much of a hipster this makes me sound like).

Special Olympics

It was smiles all around at yesterday's Special Olympics event at Victoria University, Footscray. I was shooting it for a local paper, but I thought that this shot stood out a bit more than the rest.

Take THREE capsules TWICE daily

With all conventional treatment completed months ago, mum has just started on a clinical trial of a new medication. It's a phase one trial, which means its at the first stages of human testing. Basically, they are trying to establish if it's safe for humans as well as trying to establish safe doses.

She had her spot secured on the trial about three weeks ago. She was admitted to the RMH after experiencing a great deal of pain. They took a biopsy, and booked appointments for radio therapy to manage her pain (with limited success).

Two days ago, she started on the new medications. To be honest, so far it has been hell. The first day involved a ten hour day in hospital. Half a dozen sets of blood tests taken throughout the marathon day.

Since then, mum has experienced a great deal of nausea. She is perpetually sleepy and dizzy. It's terrible to see such a strong person go through such hell.

Over the past two nights, she has been vomiting. I think the first time I ever saw her vomit was probably this time last year. In the past 48 hours, she has thrown up 4 times.

Nurse Thobi inserts a needle into mum's arm. Although mum has had more needles than a pin cushion, she still hates them. 

Much like mum, I have deceptively visible vains which are incredibly hard to draw blood from. After two attempts to insert a cannula in her left arm, it was decided that her right arm would be better. 

At 6 pm, we were the last people to leave the normally busy oncology day centre at the Royal Melbourne. It's amazing how much of a difference a tablet can make to boredom.

Mum this morning. After waking up and walking around the house, she returned to bed tired. This is her talking to my uncle on the phone. 

Although sleepy, the medications make her restless. She wanted to sleep, but lying in bed made her feel uneasy. I caught her sleeping sitting at the edge of her bed.