My "Study"

I’m sitting in my study, which I never use because its either to hot or to cold, and the desk is to small and can just hold a lap top and a printer. I’m looking around at my book collection and wondering what they say about me.

Text book of pediatric Rheumatology by Cassidy and Petty, kind of stands out from the other texts books, it doesn’t quite belong with visual perception and an introduction to social psychology. I remember trying to read that big text when I was in grade four. I was so determined to read the whole thing. I wanted to understand what was wrong with me, that way maybe I could fix it. I always was a weird one. I read about one chapter.

I have four text books with anatomy in the title, and there is another in the lounge room. My biggest is just titled BIOLOGY, it is the worst text book I have ever brought.

I can never bring myself to throw away these books, or to sell them. I mean who knows when Kandel, Schwartz and Jessell’s Principles of Neural Science will come in handy when I get some QLD Ed job next year dealing with kiddies with problems saying /s/.

Our fiction collection has a lot of Steven King, I went through a Steven King phase which stopped suddenly about 1/3rd of the way through CELL. I stole Nineteen Eighty-Four from my mother, I’ve made two attempts at reading it, I just like to have it around because I was born in 1984.

There is evidence that I went through a Japanese phase (just before going to Japan) with Memoirs of a Geisha and Princess Masako.

There is the book that I read in Japan, Rhys bought it for me in Sydney, it’s called Know it All, it’s about a man who reads the encyclopedia (all of it), I was believing everything he said until he reached S and talked about how Stuttering starts in the parents ears and not in the childs speech. Man that made me so mad, and damn did Rhys hear about it.

There is my Harry Potter collection, a favourite in this house.


So that’s my study. And my printing is done.

My Surgeon

I’ve loved them since my hips were made of bone!


Current mood: contemplative



I, unlike any normal 23 year old, have a favourite surgeon, the best surgeon in the whole wide world. He is like a cuddley teddy bear, who seems tough, but I know he is a big softy and that he loves me.

The photo is my post-op after my bilateral knee replacements, Rhys, Katie, Locki and Mardy brought me in this mask, mum got bored after they had left and put it on me, knowing full well I was in a position where I would not be able to get it off... Naturally she took a photo.

I know she's nuts, but she didnt leave my side once. She slept in a chair next to my bed.

Anyway, I am one of his best pieces of work, a living piece of art that is evidence of just how great he is at his job. He has replaced both my hips, and both my knees and put me back together again after I managed a sprial fracture after my fall at my 21st. I respect him because he was the only one brave enough to take me on. I was not an easy case, being sixteen at the time of the first surgery and I had had arthritis for 14 years at that stage, there was a lot of damage.
It has been six years and eight months (exactly since its the second) since I had my first hip (the right one) replaced. Almost seven years. It makes me feel sick in the stomach just thinking about it, how time has flown by. The worse part of it, is that these hips of mine are only expected to be good for around 15 years.
That seemed like so much time when I was 14. Which is when I decided to have this done. But now? 15 years feels like nothing.
Do I really only have 8 more years of good functioning hips?
I feel this hanging over my head. What do I want to get done in this time? What will life be like when they finally give in? Will I be stuck in a wheelchair again?
Despite the draw backs, this by far is the best decision I have ever made in my life. I would never have lasted at UQ, it was hard enough when I could walk. So I would not have spent all that time at UQ with Rhys, we wouldn't have fallen in love and I wouldnt have found speech pathology... My entire life is a result of that one decision.
On the day of the second of Feb 2001 I was the most scared I have ever been in my entire life. I was 16 and a half, sitting in a hospital room, in the surgery get up (gown and cap). When the magnitude of the situation hit me, I only told one of my friends, because I was embarrassed about having a piece of surgery associated with older people (I just loooove the comments like 'oh my grandma had that done'- just kick me in the shins instead, I'd prefer that). Anyway I felt so alone and overwhelmed. They were about to open me up, remove the top of my femur, and HAMMER A MENTAL ROD into it.
I started to cry, tears of fear and tears brought on by the fact that this was my reality. While my friends were sitting in their first classes for grade 11, enjoying their decisions, to talk in class, to ignore the teacher, to ask x to the formal... here I was.... having a hip replacement.
I didnt tell anyone because I knew no one could related to what I was about to go through. I couldnt bear having them even try to relate to it (Grandma comments here I come!).
When I came out of surgery, I felt, I dunno, heavier at my right hip and oh the pain was evil, I had a 30 cm scar held together with 30+ staples. and I had two drains coming out of my thigh. I remember being determined to be back at school asap.
Maybe no one would notice?
Unfortunately my friend told the school's pastor... who prayed for me in front of the entire school... I was in a bit of trouble for not telling my other friends.
I named the soft bear my bought me Physics, a reminder that I had shit to do and couldnt waste time in bed 'recovering.'
So I pushed my self.
Get out of bed.
Walk down the hall.
Walk around the ward.
Do it now, you're 16, not 80.
You're female, we can handle pain.
After 6 days I decided that it was time to go home.
Now people usually spend 30 days in hospital for this surgery. I infact set a record for the shortest stay. A record that was beaten only by my next stay for my left hip.
A week after that I was back at school, sitting in the audience during parade, when the whole school got together on Wednesday mornings, our grade 11 coordinator said a prayer for me to get out of hospital soon... I laughed, it was great. He saw me in maths later that day, he just gave me this amazed look... that was great too.
Other teachers didnt understand the magnitude of the surgery...
One even asked if it was key hole surgery...
The problem there I think is that I made it look easy.
I used to be worried about my scars... I was embarrassed... but now I dont notice them...
If I had the choice, I'd do it again.

Our First "date"

October 10th, five years ago (almost six years ago), I was getting ready for my very first date with Rhys Jones.
Our highschool formal.
We were friends, who had known each other for about a year and to this day I still only have theories as to why he decided to take me. I have never been silly, I knew there were a couple of other girls wishing to accompany Mr Jones to the biggest event of our final year at school.
From what I recall two asked through friends, and he said no because he didnt know them. One asked him, while telling me that I should ask him, so we ended up suggesting it to him on the same day. I think she was thinking if she had two people ask him, he would be in a situation where he needed to make a decision and she could easily take me. I will always remember the way one girl spoke as though she was already going with him, and her friend was going with someone too... they both looked at me and one said 'who could Vicky go with?' (said in all seriousness) and they proceded to list out some names and laughed... haha very funny... no one wants to go with the girl in the wheelchair. (I know it is a tragic cliche to harbour sore feelings from highschool... and I don't... I just enjoy writing what happened next. Its like a real life fairytale).
This drama with the other girls was mostly forgotten on the night, except when the girl who spoke as though she was already going with him asked to borrow him for some photos. I smiled and said yes and thought 'delicious.'
Anyway back to this time tomorrow five years ago, I had just arrived home from having my hair and makeup done, and had put on my dress that made me feel like a princess, with a tiara and all. I put on the perfume that mum and I had bought in Paris. I loved my nails, I loved my makeup and hovered in and out of the bathroom checking my makeup. I almost freaked when some mascarra brushed from my lashes to my cheek. I was waiting for Stef to show up with her camara (I really only wanted her there because she was repeating grade 11, but I could never go to my formal without seeing her) absolutely praying she would show up before Rhys so I'd have someone to talk to. Someone normal. Someone who's persence on this day was expected and I knew exactly why they were showing up... Why did he pick me? Stef did show up first, which calmed me right down. I didnt think then, but I know it was hard for her to show up that day...
He showed up with his mum and sister Clare, lucky Clare was organised or else he wouldnt have had one of those flowers that men put in there pockets. I remember him bending down on his knees and putting on the Wrist Corsage, it felt like it took forever... with everyone watching... it was like we were a display at the zoo or something...I was so embarrassed! We had photos done and left in mums van to Sarah's place where we would catch a limo.
Mum has a big old white van, that she leant us for the night. So with Rhys driving, in his top hat, and me in the front passenger seat wearing my princess dress and tiara, feeling really out of place... off we went. I would have liked to have passed us on the road... it would have looked rediculous.
We headed towards Sarah's place. Being a lady I waited until we had definately passed a certain point at least twice, before accusing my date of being an idiot, lost and asking him where were the directions he said he had... in his school bag... ok.
So I had to call a hysterical Sarah and ask for directions to Skips and tried to keep her calm, all the while cursing Rhys for not admitting he was lost and for driving so he didnt have to call Sarah ("you cant drive and talk on the phone").
We showed up late, there was
Skip and Carl,
Sarah and Mardy
and Rhys and I.
And Rhys, myself and Skip were late to Sarah's place. Now Sarah, being crazy, had booked the limo to come so early that, even though three of us were over a half hour late, we were still way early to the formal itself.
The limo driver was a bit cranky, despite Mardy's pragmatic efforts to keep him in a conversation. So the six of us stood infront of the limo, skulled some pink wine, had some photos taken and hopped in.
17/18 year olds in a limo is a great thing. Mission: where is the TV? was a failure, but all in all it was a fun trip.
When we arrived, we walked around the area where the drinks and snacks with the families would take place, while Rhys was trying to master linking arms with me with one arm and swirling his cane with the other, as we walked an old friend of mine (male) came up and said to me: "you look so much better than I ever thought you could". Ouch. A teacher who'd known me well since grade 8 came up and said "I barely recognised you, you look amazing." That's better.
I remember sitting at the side of the room and, as I was getting up, a man whom I had never seen before offered me a hand up, I was so scared, he looked like the monopoly man... I got away from him as fast as possible and hid near my daddy. The top hat that monopoly man was wearing really should have been the clue to what I later found out... he was Rhys' father.
His family didn't even know me but they still insisted that I be in the family photo... years later it was weird to see, when I went to his nan's house to have dinner, there I was on display... she's had a photo of me since 2002, next to all the other photos of her grandchildren.
When it came to seating at dinner: We still blame a certain couple (who will remain nameless) for taking our spot at a table with all the couples we would hang out with at lunch. I was asked if I wanted to sit with some girlfriends I knew who were dateless or leaving their dates for dinner to sit at all girl table, but I decided to sit with Rhys, resulting in me being the only girl at a table of 10. It was fun, I've always enjoyed the company of boys, I think they're funny and less work than girls.
Rhys and I picked on each others edicate, 'no conducting at a dinner table' and he did all the gentlemanly things, like pulling out my chair and making sure I had water (or did I have to kick him under the table to get him to fill my glass?...I cant recall).
My eyes weren't really on Rhys all that much, but I can tell you Matt ate Shanes entree.
We only danced together for one song, Vitamin C's graduation song. I remember he whispered to me something like 'So this is it?' I ignored him, because I couldnt think of anything to say back.
I remember hoping that we would be friends after highschool, I knew we were applying for the same university, I hoped we'd still be friends because I had had a great time with him, I felt comfortable around him and he made me feel safe. But most of all, he made me feel normal. We would be friends after this, we'd have to be...
after all he chose me

Older blog from MySpace

04 Dec 2007
Aunty Joan
Current mood: miserable

On the 11th of August I put up a blog about my Aunty. She's been sick for a while. On Sunday the 25th of November, I was playing guitar hero III (I had just beaten the devil on Easy) and I got a phone call from mum, the content went something like "Aunty Joan is back in hospital she is on ventilation, she overdosed." All I could think was this was different from the previous times.
On the Tuesday I cried in the library while researching the PLS4.
On the Wednesday mum called to say she was flying down to Melbourne the next morning.
On the Friday mum called to say she was getting better on her own after minimal medication.
On the Sunday mum called in the morning and told Rhys that my Aunty had died in the night on Saturday. I heard the phone ring, I knew who it was, I knew what had happened, I pretended to be asleep when Rhys stuck his head in the door. I got up 20 minutes later and silently had breakfast while trying to brace for the news Rhys had to give. He told me so gently that I would have laughed at his use of language if I hadn't been crying. We went to lunch at his mum's place, when I told his mum and Clare, they were so lovely. Rhys's mum was great, she's like a second mum to me. She gives great hugs. She told Rhys to take good care of me and give me extra cuddles.
Mum called again Sunday night. She didnt think Rhys could ever tell me such bad news. She told me that since arriving in Melbourne she had done for Aunty Joan what she has done for me so many time before during my hospital stays. She grabs a chair and sits by the bed. Only leaving to get food or go to the bathroom. She'll eat in the chair, sleep and read books. Its good to know that mum was with my Aunty when she died, apparently mum was reading, looked up and the machines showed that Aunty Joan had died.
Mum explained that during her stay Aunty Joan was awake at some stage, but had had a stroke, so she couldn't speak. Mum had taken a photo of me and Addie on Aunty Joans porch from when we were younger, mum says showing this to her had made her laugh.
Mum promised to find me something of Aunty Joans that I can keep. If its a ring or necklace, I'll keep in with my Grandma's white gold ring (mum's mum, she died when I was 7).
Mum said to be strong and not send flowers or anything like that, flowers just die too. Pledger-Dennys are strong.
I'm trying to be strong, I feel worse for my mum, she's lost both parents and both sisters.
My Aunty was so different to my mum, mad as a cut snake, a trouble maker if you will. Married 3 times and finally deciding to stay not married to her defacto that I know as Uncle Gavin. On my last visit she adviced Rhys and I to stay not married too. She grew pot in the backyard. She spoilt us. She had a fashionable womanly way about her that mum will never have, she knew makeup and clothes and hair. She was asked to give me direction when I wouldn't listen to mum. Her home was decorated in mostly black and white with some red. She had a dog named Ninja. She had two daughter and a grandchild.
I think she was proud of me.
I think she liked Rhys, who she got to meet in August. I'm so glad she got to meet him. If it was not for my cousins 21st, they never would have met. Its hard enough to think that she wont ever be at my wedding, shaking her head and calling me an idiot.
My Aunty has been pretty unwell for years, about 5 years ago she spoke to me about her and Uncle Gavin driving to QLD in their yellow Ferrari. She said she'd bring just one summer dress and drive up with the hood of the car down. She got pretty sick not long after saying that. She never did get to QLD.

Time to sound like a prat...

Hi! I havent blogged in ages. I've just been so busy with uni and procrastinating on facebook that I havent really done anything worth blogging about.

Until yesterday, when Rhys and I went shopping for the engagement ring. Which is currently in a vault in Tiffany's in the city. I know its such a wankerish place to get an engagement ring, but it is seriously the most beautiful thing I have ever put on. Ever.

I tried on some different styles, had a mini stroke when they said the three stone ring cost about the same as what I paid for my brand new Suzuki in 2002, so we stuck on a single stone ring.

I tried on round diamonds and princess cut and even though I thought I would hate the square diamond, I fell head over heels for the princess cut.

And then Rhys bought it, in the most wreckless act I have ever seen him do. (I thought he was leaning towards getting one made with a slightly smaller diamond).

At least I know when we are married he will never ever say, "man I wish I had bought you the bigger one."

God even this blog is a bit wankerish, isn't it?

At least I know when I'm being a wanker.

I just don't think I could be any happier. It's like physically impossible or something.

Missing Clinic

I went and saw the dr yesterday, who was nice enough to give me one of those certificate things. and I am so glad he did.

Last night, after the usual slave-away-til-10pm-on-resources-for-the-next-day, I took the resources to my clinic partner, so she could do my session, and I was feeling ok. Thinking to myself, maybe I could go to clinic. Oh so very wrong. When we got home I felt really tired, but I was so uncomfortable and cough-y that I could not fall asleep. The last time I looked at the clock it was 4am, and I woke up at midday with a spliting headache and a killer cough.

So here I am, at home, like I have been all week. I have a bad feeling Rhys is going to come home tired and I think he may have finally caught this bug. But we both need a social life so we are going to this house warming party tonight - dammit!

I might go check out some wedding websites.