life

by

I got a broken face

Last week, my family and I spent a lovely day and night on Rottnest Island in Western Australia, home of quokka (see below – merrily eating a chip). I got a swim in the Indian Ocean under my belt, a sticker for my suitcase and the obligatory quokka selfie.

The next day the Pigalinas hired bicycles to tour the island a see the sights. I was riding along happily thinking about lunch, looking at the lighthouse in the distance and the salt lake next to me as I started downhill. While freewheeling downhill I noticed my (work)phone and selfie stick (don’t judge…) in the drink holder were wobbling and looked like they would fall out. In that brief moment of lost concentration, I may have reached to move them – I can’t remember – I flew over the handlebars and landed on my face!!

Cool kids wear lids

Yes, I did take a photo (I said don’t judge!), I took it before I realised how bad my fall had been and as soon as I spat out some of my precious teeth (more came out after). I needed to survey the damage. Luckily for me two off duty nurses were on hand to tend to me while Mr Pigalina phoned for help. Some lovely passers-by shielded me from the sun and wafted the flies from wounds while we waited for transport.

An ambulance was offered but as I felt OK we opted for a regular ride, who turned out to be a guy from the bike hire shop in a Ute. Mr Pigalina was not permitted to ride along and had to cycle the 3km in the hot sun to the nursing station. Later he said he had thought adrenaline would kick in like in the movies and he would breeze along. It didn’t.

At the nursing station they patched me up and called ahead to a hospital in Perth while we waited for the next ferry. One ferry and taxi ride later, while nursing a bleeding ear canal, we arrived at the hospital. I was scolded for being “so English” and not making too much of a fuss about my injuries but the truth of the matter was, it wasn’t that sore. Although I also don’t like a big fuss. An X-ray and CT scan later it was determined it had broken my jaw in two places which came as a huge surprise!

A big farce followed due to me being an overseas patient. It’s nobody’s fault but let’s just say:

  • Had to find a hotel in a strange city at 10:30pm
  • Why have travel insurance if they won’t honour it?
  • So many different options from so many doctors over the next four days. Who to listen to?

Scaring children on the ferry

After being declined by the travel insurance and hearing it could take up to four weeks in Australia for the surgery I decided to ride out the rest of my holiday all patched up and get sorted back in NZ.

I made the most of the rest of my holiday, despite being on a liquid and mush diet and looking dreadful with my bandages with a front tooth rapidly changing colour. Saw some wild kangaroos, went to the beach, visited Fremantle prison. No time for mooching about!

Finally on the way home, After an almost 7 hour flight back to NZ we were told to “make haste” by the flight crew in order to make our connection home. It’s very hard to make haste when you still have to queue to get off the plane with everyone else and, what’s this?, they parked the plane ages from the airport so everyone getting off the plane has to BUS to the terminal?! Then you have to find your bag, clear customs and then race ten minutes to the other terminal with a heavy suitcase with a wheel kindly broken by the baggage handlers. Dragging my broken 20kg case, making haste, while carrying two other bags and wearing a coat, powered by the little bits of mush I could glean from my plane meal (hummus, mashed peas) was the second time I cried. The first was when I realised now have meth-head teeth.

Once home, the ball finally rolling, my surgeon here said I DON’T EVEN NEED SURGERY. A six week mush diet should see my broken jaw heal itself. I could have had unneeded surgery AND a six week mush diet. And a four week extended stay in Australia. It isn’t all smooth sailing though as I am yet to be assigned a Case Manager to discuss getting my teeth sorted due to where I work. Sigh. And it’s mush for graduation, Christmas and the Pigalinas’ Wedding anniversary.

It gave me something to write about though!

(Mr Pigalina has been an excellent and attentive nurse and taxi driver 😘)

Advertisement
by

Farewell Sprout

After five years of us living in our house, the Cabbage Tree in the front garden grew a new sprout. Both Mr Pigalina and I were quite excited by this development.
Today we arrived home to find the sprout lying on the grass. It was too high for a person to reach and snap off and there was a longish white hair stuck to it. This has led me to the conclusion that the culprit is next door’s cat. Not satisfied with costing us money and sleep thanks to the beatings he dishes out to our cat in the middle of the night; he has now taken up tree vandalism!
I will attempt to plant the sprout in a pot tomorrow.

by

Perilous Sunday

Currently I am monitoring a health situation – potential pneumonia. While out for Sunday lunch with Mr Pigalina, I chuckled with a mouthful of food and my mirth was soon over. I felt a pea shoot and wriggle down my windpipe. I coughed and choked, tried to wash the pea away, and disturbed the whole restaurant. Mr Pigalina asked if I was ok, I replied in a wheeze with tears in my eyes “No! I inhaled a pea!”
The trauma soon passed to be replaced by paranoia – Google told me that food in the lungs could lead to aspiration pneumonia.
Later, at home, having recovered from that incident I set about sorting out the spare room. I got a bit distracted by an episode of Misfits and sat down to watch – leaning against a plastic storage cube. My elbows slipped easily inside, and then my shoulders, it was quite a comfortable spot. But then I tried to stand up. I was stuck, it hurt my neck as I tried to break free. I hollered for Mr Pigalina who dutifully trotted through to see what the problem was. He took some photos before freeing me. Here is one – my face has been trimmed out as it is reminiscent of a baby photo that adorned my patents wall where I am laughing so hard I look like I am crying. I am an ugly crier.

by

Hardcore Sunday Night

Wine and my mending pile, it’s a wild time in the Pigalina house.

I have been very slack lately with updates, that is because it has been the Christmas holidays and Dunedin has been basking in one of the best summers we can remember. Updating my blog has taken a back seat to lying in the sun, paddling in the sea and enjoying doing what I want, when I want. I have already had a week back at work, except there was little to no work to do. Tomorrow though will be the proper start to the working year (hence the mending, can’t go to work all holey) and I will endeavour to be more consistent in recording the fascinating life of a public servant, thirty-something in Dunedin New Zealand. Sounds riveting eh?

by

Bone Scan Day

I wasn’t brave enough to ask the bone scan technicians to take a photo of me mid scan.
They tied my feet together and put a thing round my arms to allow them to hang by my sides but not move. Then the scanner whirred into life.
The scanner was a Philips, so the same firm bringing us TVs and headphones are also scanning your innards.
During the scan I heard a lot of mouse clicking and lots of “interesting”s. I don’t know if my bones were interesting, or whatever they were quietly discussing was interesting. If it was my bones I will find out what was so interesting sometime next week.

Please accept this photo of my legs ( containing bones) and Tobias’s bony feet on our walk after work.

by

Wallet Woes

Three people were late to work today due to forgetting their wallets and I was one of them. This lead to a quest for a free car park which added an extra ten minute walk before I even got to work.
Luckily I was meeting Mummy Pigalina for lunch so that was sorted – though i was short changed by a man that thinks “no cucumber” means “no cucumber, jalapenos, olives or carrot”.

My wallet is safely on the kitchen bench now, next to my keys and has a blog post to also jog my memory.
And yes, it is a man’s wallet.