Chapter 47 Inevitability

                                                 Chapter 47 Inevitability

When my work involved hospital visiting, it meant I was walking upstairs or across hot car parks carrying books, and bags of pamphlets to hand out. The weight aggravated my legs and hips and threw me off balance. I was self-conscious and embarrassed, aware that I was probably walking strangely, or dragging my right foot up each step as I went.
   
    Knocking on private room doors was hardest. I had to be careful to avoid the time when doctors were visiting, or a stack of 'rellies ' were visiting and crowding out the room, or the woman was having some sort of procedure done. Then there was always the chance she was just having a well earned rest. It frustrated the hell out of me.

    Another thing I had to do when hospital visiting was document possible follow-up clinic cases from the special care nursery and the premature baby nursery, and notify the appropriate staff from outlying regional clinics. These had to be reported on at case meetings with doctors and hospital charge nurses, which scared me silly! Stemming from my childhood was still the remains of intimidation in the presence of doctors and senior staff.  Unfortunately, although training days had done a lot to eliminate this fear for me, I was still nervous at meetings and when I had to go into the premature nursery to hunt through files. Usually, I faked nonchalence.

    One day I did the home visiting clinic in a new estate and had to walk over uneven, newly disturbed ground in the yard. carrying books and the baby scales. I came close to falling as I struggled to maintain my balance.When I got back to the clinic I burst into tears, unable to hold back my distress any longer. The girls were understanding and comforted me, but after that I refused to do home visiting or hospital visiting, and in 1998 I was forced to bring the work for the baby clinics to a close. I should've been sad I suppose, but it was such a relief not to have to face those challenges any longer. I went on working for the chemist, just a half day a week, where I was sitting down most of the morning.

    I still worked for Child Health, mostly at the residential centre, and often at the clinic near home. I was quite friendly by now with the local clinic charge nurse and when things got too tough for me she suggested I could do a half day if I wished when she was desperate for staff. I did this a few times, but working in the clinics involved the challenge of weighing babies, and the most difficult of all, due to poor balance and weakness in my right arm, measuring babies.

    In the chemist clinic in the shopping centre, the problem of my bladder was still a major aggravation. Finally forced to excuse myself from the waiting mothers, I’d take a deep breath, and head off to the toilet block at the far end, warning myself sternly all the way: 'Concentrate! Keep your toes out! Don't fall! For God's sake don't fall! Go slowly, don't hurry!'

    My toes turning in was part of the change happening from the M.S. and was more and more difficult to control as time went on. I walked in fear, picturing myself prostrate on the floor. I was conscious of people staring out of their shop doorways and I could hear them thinking, 'There she goes again.'

    When my pelvis weakened even more, walking became almost painful, and so distressing that one morning I sat down in my chair and dissolved into tears. Unfortunately one of the mothers was already there with her baby.

    This girl always came early to the clinic on her way to work. She had a mountain of personal problems herself. While she was in hospital having her baby, her partner was carrying on an affair. She was going through a nasty divorce and court case over custody of the baby. It came out during the case that he had brought the girl to visit her in the hospital! Having good family support, she won the case. Instead of me giving her comfort that morning, she was giving comfort to me.

    When I got a walking stick it made a huge difference, preventing the pain in my hips. In the end though, walking became so difficult even with the stick, I made a personal decision to buy a wheeled walker and eventually, in about 2002, to take the walker to work. The relief was enormous and at last I felt safe while walking. I still had to go to the toilet just as often, and I still passed people looking out of their doorways surreptitiously with that, 'I shouldn't look but that poor girl is getting worse' look on their faces. Nobody smiled. I felt so obvious.

    Fortunately, by this time Peter had altered his work hours to nine to five, as manager of the roster's department. I was due to start at nine o'clock at the shopping centre chemist, so he dropped me off with my walker and then drove on to work at Kedron Park.

    Eventually, even negotiating the gentle, shopping centre entrance ramp with the walker became a challenge. I was scared that the walker would tip over and I was having so much difficulty clearing the ground with my right foot that going up a ramp was almost impossible. Consequently, Pete had to lift the walker onto the footpath and help me up there.

    I continued in this way for quite some time. The staff at the chemist shop did everything they could to help. One of the junior assistants became my dedicated helper, ensuring the baby products section was well-stocked, and negotiating with company reps to get me samples to hand out to mothers in need. I had a good rapport with the mums. Even after I left the job some of them still phoned me for advice. I loved my job. When I became a child health nurse I felt I had found my niche as far as career was concerned.

    Finally in February of 2003 I gave in my notice for the last time.  (I had handed it in twice before but had decided to carry on, not being able to bring myself to leave.) At last I had retired. It was a great relief but Pete and I would miss the $80 a week. I especially missed it as I had always performed fiscal gymnastics with that little income, sometimes saving up to buy a surprise gift for Pete for his birthday or Christmas. I felt lazy, and carried a certain amount of guilt as now I was not contributing anything to the household income. (That's when I decided to become a 'writer'!) I still cooked the meals and did most of the housework but vacuuming was beyond me as it had been for some years. Pete worked all day at his job and did vacuuming on weekends.