A person develops into who they are meant to be when they stop blaming others and making excuses because of their experiences during their lives and embrace their own responsibility for their words and behavior!
Ryll x
As the journey of life continues to surprise, shock and amaze, one of these elements that comes creeping in often totally unexpected is ‘Pain’ in different formats… Yes little moments of small accidents and recovering all happen at any age. Then along comes the determined ones that attaches itself to your body determined to not leave, learning to get alone with this unwanted companion is such a difficult and unfamiliar lesson needing to be learned due to our natural instincts to rise above and fight away this intrusion of ‘Pain’ as we automatically respond with rejection and determination to overcome, coupled with the feelings of we can control this unwelcome companion… as time presses on, the power of pain grows as it wears its victim down, and the power battle does become a war with ‘Pain’ looking like it could win.
My unwanted companion joined me many years ago and what a journey it has been and like any companion in life we are beginning to get to know each other very well indeed with a huge learning moment after my specialist some years ago suggested a ‘Pain Management Course’ could be an advantage, how wise that suggestion was, learning to listen, compromise and negotiate with this unwanted companion, teaching ‘Pain’ to appreciate I was listening to it, sharing mediating, showing the appreciation of mother nature together, watching moments like the local lake wildlife together enjoying the love radiating from others and the purity of the grandchildren, the roar of ‘Pain’ began to learn to lessen its grip and relax more, so that a certain harmony could begin to exist between us.
Why have I been pondering this ‘Unwanted companion’ of mine and many others?
I was recently with a wonderful group of newly connected long ago friends from the 1960’s and one of them has her own ‘Unwanted companion’ I inquired how she was doing, her response was ‘Living with Pain is a changing experience’ she is right it is.
And now on the 12th of April I am undergoing my third spinal operation…. I do wonder how my ‘Unwanted companion’ is going to behave, maybe it’s time for me to consider drawing up a contract we can both agree upon ???
Learning to recognize the unique greatness within each of those that surround us…
Gives one the gift of appreciation in those individuals no matter how they may appear…
Leaving us with an invaluable gift… of no regrets… and the clarity of each individuals uniqueness…
Ryll x
What to do upon finding my trusted specialist had retired – if only my nasty tummy had retired with him !! But then again maybe his replacement was fresh out of tum-versity with all the latest techniques – albeit he was quick to tell me that although tummy-tucks were now common place tummy transplants were still a way away…
After weeks of tests and investigations the verdict was in – a ‘Laparoscopic Ventral Rectopexy’ was required.
Two days and one night in hospital followed by many weeks of recovery.
Although the 4 small puncture marks where the mechanical arms did their magic create much discussion for the grandchildren – what lies beneath is the work of a marvelous surgeon ‘Dr David Taylor’.
Thanks to my daughter Aimee and husband Wayne for spoiling me.
Fingers crossed that improvement continues and it will soon be ‘behind me’ LOL 🙂
10am – 12pm Monday 14th July at Gladstone Library I am guest speaker, how many dormant writers can I ignite their story that lays within? I can’t wait – more later…..
Geebung State School Grade 1 A 1957
Due the social media we are spoilt with today I follow the site of my first school I attended. Requests are out for photo’s so I decided to share this photo with the added bonus of an extract from my memoir ‘Pebbles in the Road’ to fuel the memories of those that are interested – hoping you enjoy:
1955, Ryll four years old
While we were living in Newman Road, I started kindergarten. It was
only a short walk from our home so my mother walked me there and
back until I was confident to walk alone. Could you imagine a fouryear-
old walking alone to kindy today?
I was a shy child, one of those children who developed the habit of
hiding behind my mother’s skirt. Thank goodness for the fashions of
those times. My face would turn quite red if anyone tried to engage in
conversation with me.
The first day I attended kindergarten was a day I shed lots of tears, as
I pleaded with mum not to make me stay. It was common for children
to begin kindergarten at the age of three or four. They started first grade
at primary school at four or five years of age.
Each day as mum walked me to kindergarten, I held her hand harder
and harder and slowed my steps to a crawl. By the time we arrived,
I had to be peeled off her. Thankfully it wasn’t long before I learned
what warm and lovely ladies ran the establishment. Kindy was soon
a home away from home for me. It was not at all long before mum
was experiencing the opposite reaction to my early days of going off
to kindergarten. I skipped and played on the way each day and was
reluctant to leave in the afternoon.
Part of my eagerness to attend my kindergarten was the delicious
savoury mince made for our lunch on a regular basis by one of the
ladies. I remember eagerly sitting at the kindy lunch table when I
could sniff the aroma of the savoury mince. After our hot lunch, all the
children had a lie down. With full tummies we would soon fall asleep,
cosy and contented. Kindy left me with many warm memories of my
first step into the education system.
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1956, Ryll five years old
My kindergarten experience was good preparation for primary school,
which I began at Geebung State Primary School. I was apprehensive in
the early days, but it was not long before I was walking with my sister
to school with a joyous feeling.
At this time, educational development was graded by placements in
the class—from 1st all the way through to last, which was often referred
to as being ‘at the bottom of the class’. This method was considered
the best way to monitor each child’s learning progress. My sister was
extremely smart and usually came first or second in her class. Being
first was called ‘top of the class’.
I was not that far behind when I began school, usually getting 2nd or
3rd place. This continued throughout my time at Geebung State Primary
School and it was a happy period for me. The grounds of the school
were of great excitement to me with lots of adventures awaiting. There
was a section of land at the back of the school grounds that was a mass
of boulders. To a five-year-old, they were massive and easily hid me
when playing hide and seek. I loved to explore those rocks even though
the area was mainly used by the boys, my presence was tolerated.
There were other boys’ activities I took an interest in, much to Genia’s
disgust. Often when it rained heavily, as we walked down the steep hill
from our school, Genia and I could see many of the boys playing in the
gutters. They would eagerly sit themselves in the newly-laid concrete
gutters that ran beside the road and slide down with the water rushing
around them. Though the gutters were new, they were lined with green
slime from the water waste that ran from each household.
This green slime was very slippery, making it very easy for the boys
to slide down the sloping gutter at a high speed. When the heavy rains
arrived, there was a torrent of water over the green slime. This gave
the boys great excitement as they slid quickly down the gutters. Their
squeals of delight drew a lot of attention, especially mine.
The first few times Genia and I saw the boys behaving in this manner,
we stood and watched. At first I copied her mutterings of disgust, but
on one occasion the boys’ delight became too much for me. Having
been invited to join in, I threw caution to the wind and joined the queue
of boys waiting to launch themselves down the flowing gutter. It was
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pure joy, a wild rush of feelings, as I slid down that disgusting green
gutter, with the fresh rain waters gushing around me. It was beyond
wonderful until I arrived home.
‘Why do you have green covering your panties, Ryll?’ my mother
demanded.
I stumbled over my words, but Genia was quick to give her view of
events.
‘I was so embarrassed by her,’ she added. ‘My very own sister doing
such a disgusting boy thing. My friends even saw her doing it.’
My days were full of bliss in this period in my life as I just loved going
to school. My grades were good, which made me so proud. After a
further 12 months at Newman Road, we had to find somewhere else to
live because our new house at Salisbury was not ready for us to move
into.
My parents were extremely disappointed, but they found a rental
house a few streets away, in Robinson Road. It was nearer to our
school, very close to the church we were attending and to the corner
shops Mum used. The house was quite different to what I was used
to—it was highset and I lacked confidence in using the wooden steps.
Heights were a bit of a challenge for me, so I was very pleased with
myself when I mastered those stairs.
We were much busier now that both of us girls were going to Primary School
and we went to church every Sunday. An outing our family eagerly looked forward to was our fortnightly trip to the picture theatre. How exciting that was—we were
allowed to pick out one cardboard box of lollies each.
I always picked Jaffas and my sister always picked Minties. I was
shocked when I discovered that some people took delight in rolling
Jaffas down the aisles of the theatre. Sometimes the patrons would
throw lollies around in an effort to disturb the others in the theatre. Oh
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dear, what a waste, I thought.
The seats in our theatre were made with wooden rails on the top,
bottom and sides with canvas hanging like a hammock between them.
They were so comfortable I would often fall asleep in them. Even
though I really liked the canvas seats, getting in and out of them was
quite difficult for small people. I often wondered if there would ever
come a day that my feet would or even could touch the floor.
After we moved to Robinson Road, we had a harrowing experience with
the local wildlife. The newsagent’s teenage daughter, Robin Jamieson,
called monthly to collect our account payment. It was common practice
in those days to have a casual accounting system at the local shops that
one could pay weekly or monthly.
Robin would leave her bicycle leaning against our front fence and
stay a while to have a chat. Genia and I would accompany mum out to
the front gate to wave goodbye after each visit.
On one of these occasions, just as Robin was about to take hold of
her bike, Mum saw a large, brown snake lying the length of the bike.
‘Everybody stand clear!’ Mum shouted, pointing to the snake. ‘Be
careful and get away from the bike.’
We all screamed in fear. After we were well away from the menacing
snake, Mum went to the shed for one of Dad’s tools. With a large
gardening spade in hand, she struck at the snake. It wriggled out from
behind the bike and we shrieked in terror. Mum’s next blow chopped
the top part of the snake’s body off near the head. The severed head and
body thrashed about wildly, coming closer to us as we shrunk away in
fear. It seemed to be trying to get to us! Mum delivered many more
blows to the rest of the snake until there were small bits laying all over
the place. By the time she was done, it was difficult to remember it had
been a big brown snake.
When the chopping of the snake was complete, Robin went shakily
to her bicycle and walked away with it. Mum left the snake pieces for
Dad to get rid of when he got home. Dad was real proud of Mum’s job
of killing of the snake, but he did have a bit of a tease about how many
pieces she had made of it.
‘I don’t think any snakes’ll be game enough to come near our house
ever again,’ he jibed.
As some of you are aware I do PowerPoint presentations around Brisbane libraries, Schools and Seniors Clubs encouraging others to record their life story and understand the importance of their own lived history.
Yesterday’s venue was at the Sunnybank United Church, with The National Seniors Friendship Club, what a wonderful group of people.
When the presentation was over and I was surrounded by grateful guests, voicing their thanks as they purchased my books.
Suddenly the moment was drawn to an abrupt end when a rather well dressed gentleman approached me and politely told me he required me to swiftly vacate my position.
As I puzzled for why the reason for such urgency – I turned to give a lady her change and there was a coffin approaching to take up my said position!
Be a mirror to the world – reflect out what you need and want back to you and the world will be a better place.
ryllpaul 