In love with a Nurse

"Good morning young man", I immediately fell in love as it has been a very long time since I had been referred to as 'young', "what happened to you?" asked the kindly Surgery Nurse with a delicious Irish lute in her voice. "You look you've been shot!" she wryly remarked as my dressing was removed where the Doc decided to do some prospecting yesterday. It had been an uncomfortable, but not unexpected night, after my cyst removal. "Have you been taking your antibiotics?" To which I nodded in a rather tired manner - I loathe taking any pills but not even I was remotely tempted NOT to take them after such a cut. And so, began my day. Apart from being tired, I was not feeling the least bad. More relieved in fact. Lucky for me, the Doctor that I have been seeing now for the last 10 years and who removed the cyst is a terrific professional, friendly without adopting that God-like demeanour that some in the medical profession seem to hold. He had certainly patched me up a few times now resulting from some mishaps I have accrued along the way and always offers quiet but wise advice on matters of the body which I tend mostly to ignore. This compliment is extended now to the gregarious Nursing staff and I felt in good hands for this minor inconvenience to my life's adventure. So, it is pleasing two write well of the 'quackeries' as I tongue in cheek call the hard working men and women of medical land. Mind you, I go out of my way to avoid having any interaction where my body is poked, cut or prodded by steel. I figure, when I become much older and more doddering (than what I am now), I will be more prone to such interventions, so make use of agile time as best as possible.

Now, I was supposed to take it easy - sound enough advice - but the prospect of being cooped up inside on a dreary August day is not my idea of recovery. Though, for a few hours I tried to honour the advice of the Doc. I read the Newspaper, (even the stupid celebrity columns), completed the Crosswords (well almost, I was stumped by a couple of the clues on the cryptic version). Tapped my feet to imaginary tunes. Did some washing (that was really exciting I assure you not). Paid some Bills, doing so is depressing as it makes you realise just how much money you do not have. Sat in my, albeit warm, loungeroom and did some reading and dozed off knocking over a cup of coffee in the process and duly staining the carpet. I turned on the TV, a thing I rarely do, and this again today confirmed why I do not watch TV as I encountered the guffaws and saccharine of Oprah. Fearing a cyst in my brain would develop as a result of anything more than a few minutes of Oprah; I wisely turned off the TV and instead forlornly gazed out of the window, rain pelting down. Cannot put up with this inside stuff, gotta' get outside into the real world and bugger the soreness! A short walk cannot possibly do any harm? I grabbed he backpack, padded my stomach (for protection) and hopped on the Bus heading for the beach at Altona. Not even I could plod into harm's way at Altona beach, surely, after all a beach is flat being at sea level and global warming was unlikely to rise the sea to any 'serious' levels today?

Arriving at Altona, I immediately felt considerably better being in the brisk airs and promptly strolled toward the beach, notwithstanding the rain and the irked southerly wind whipping up from Port Phillip Bay. I had the place to myself, more or less, except for a few hundred Seagulls who reckoned I must be a food bank and seemed determined enough to adopt me for the day. But I was selfish. My large bar of Belgium Chocolate was mine alone and not to be shared with some flappers. Too, the tide was ebbing and I could happily stroll along the beach, hearing that soothing sound of earnest waves break from their long journey. It was irresistible, so off came the shoes the socks, up rolled the trousers and I barefoot trundled along. The cool seawater a tonic. After an hour's slow walking, as I neared a boat ramp, the skyscape lifted and burst of sunlight flooded around me. Instantly my skin recognised a friend and I soaked up the rays as if a thirsty man reaching an oasis. Distantly, I spotted one of those amazing sights of the atmosphere, a Rainbow. So often we take for granted a Rainbow but for me I always, no matter what I am doing, I will stop and wonder and of course I always imagine the pot of gold at the end of a Rainbow. When I was a child, I imagined to try an 'catch' a Rainbow or a part of a Rainbow, and put it in a small glass container or a bottle, so I could take it home and always look at its beauty, day or night. I still have such imaginations and why not? No matter how sore I felt, upon seeing this Rainbow and the wash of salt water over-feet made me so glad to have ignored the advice of the medicos. Yet, it was not the wonder of the Rainbow that caught my photographic eye; it was a Jellyfish that I chanced upon waiting in a rock pool for the tide to return. Having felt, many years ago, the intense pain unlike anything I had encountered before or since of the sting of a Jellyfish. I was wary enough not to touch or disturb this delicate vassal of the sea but I was struck by its shape and its colour. Its size was that of a small Bowling Ball and as with Jellyfish you see life pulsing through its intricate membrane. As far as I can ascertain the photo depicts an Australian Box Jellyfish - not a marine customer you would like to get acquainted with due to its venous barbs. You can see why young children (and some adults) are attracted to their shape and colour thinking anything smallest and the most deadliest of all Jellyfish, the Irukandji at 2.5 centimetres (about an inch) across these are near impossible to see but pack a punch. They are mostly found in waters off the northern coastline of Australia.

It was good to get out of the chicken coop that is home and in the fresh air where I ought to be most of the time. I was knackered by the time I got home, even though the walk distance is like a stroll in the park for me. Perhaps, I might take it easier today - though the lawn needs mowing and I am sure not to encounter a Jellyfish in my lawn, in fact, little life at all resides in my lawn. I always feel guilty when I cut its narrow green riband, possibly slicing gazillions of micro-bugs in the process. But I will just have to live with a restless conscious! Anyway, I have another trip to the Surgery (and for at least the few days) to have that friendly Nurse change my dressing again and once again fall in love.