Eight Hours - Twentysix Hours - Four Hours

Asleep. Awake. Asleep.

Let me run you all through the past 48 hours:

5:00pm Monday-
On comes the Channel Ten five o'clock news. Me and my dad are watching.

5:30pm Monday-
On comes Tim Bailey, and he plugs his "Take a Pic" competition, in which you take a photo of the weather, send it in and you go into a weekly draw for a $270 Panasonic Lumix camera.

5:32pm Monday-
Dad suggests I enter it, win, then sell the camera for a free $270 towards my DSLR. I laugh.

4:30pm Tuesday-
Dad points out a large rainbow nearby our house. He suggests I photograph it. I attempt this. I fail.

4:40pm Tuesday-
Dad suggests I send the photo in anyway. I say I'd be better off taking a shot of the sunrise. He says that's a good idea. I say I will. He is doubtful.

11:30pm Tuesday-
Danielle, my sister, gets dressed up in fancy clothing out of boredom. I say, sarcastically, "You should come down to the beach at sunrise tomorrow with me." She likes the idea.

12:01am Wednesday-
I say I'm going to bed. Danielle says it's not worth it, sleeping for only 5 hours. I, with my exquisite late night decision making skills, think it's much more sensible to stay up the entire night.

2:00am Wednesday-
I look up the sunrise time online. Discover it is 6:18am. All is well.

4:00am Wednesday-
Danielle and I realise that staying up all night was a terrible idea. This is just the point were it's not worth going to bed. We persevere.

5:00am Wednesday-
Danielle starts to fix up her fancy clothing in preparation for departure. I worry about clouds ruing the rise.

5:35am Wednesday-
We are ready to go, and are heading to the door, when mum wakes up. She thinks we're crazy. We leave.

6:00am Wednesday-
We take many photos (which totalled 242 shots) of Danielle, me the sunrise and the beach. Clouds are not obscuring the sunrise too much.

6:18am Wednesday-
First sliver of sun peaks above the horizon. We are impressed with the accuracy of the online sunrise predictor.

6:25am Wednesday-
Sun has already disappeared up into the clouds. We continue to take photos of Danielle and things.

6:40am Wednesday-
We head home, battery empty.

7:30am Wednesday-
The effects of staying up all night prior to a thirty minute return walk to the beach start to show. We are both very tired.

8:30am Wednesday-
Danielle collapses on the couch, delirious.

9:30am Wednesday-
I send in one of the best shots of the sunrise I could find.

11:30am Wednesday-
I collapse on the bed, delirious.

3:00pm Wednesday-
Danielle awakes. I awake. The four hours sleep I got didn't help.

5:00pm Wednesday-
Five o'clock news begins. I wonder if they will announce today's weather winner before I finish writing this  blog.

5:26pm Wednesday-
They announce today's winner. It's not me. I, in my arrogant opinion, think my shot is better.

There you have it. The past 48 hours. Happiness, sadness, regret, disappointment, tiredness, awe etc.

Below are some shots of the sunrise. More will come with my next blog post about my photography.

The shot I entered into the weather competition. If only I had a DSLR camera!

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A shot by Danielle, which she uploaded to her blog.

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Danielle's outfit, and one of her many, many sleep-deprived poses. (6:10am)

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Danielle drew those onto her face all by herself.

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Wearing the fancy clothes that had fallen off Danielle on the walk down, I was looking a little retarded awesome.

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I'll leave that there, as I'm slightly incoherent during my sleep-deprivation. More hilarious pictures of Danielle begin a little bit weird to follow, amongst many other, more interesting things. I'll also bring you Part II.5 in the Blood Tests and X-Rays (oh, and a birthday) series, "The Unexpected Appointment", on Saturday.


In memory of the wondrous art of pre-emptive gluing, 
Nick.

Blood Tests and X-Rays (oh, and a birthday) [Part II]

The following is part two of the three part mini-series on the medical ailments of Nick's knee. And a birthday.

I left you all (ie. the massive, captivated audience that doesn't really exist) on the edge of your seats last week waiting to hear the results of the blood test and X-ray on my right knee. Well, I have another enthralling tale to... enthral you all with. It begins at 2:30pm on a Friday.

I arrived at the doctor's surgery with my mother at the aforementioned time, and, once again, I found myself sitting in the waiting room for a time, before my doctor asked if I would mind seeing a training intern who was down for a few weeks. My mother said I'd be happy too.

In we went, and the intern ("Jess"), sat me down and took a fairly extensive family history on everything from skin diseases to breathing problems before we starting discussing my knee. She asked me to do a few walks, and the 'duck walk' (an excellent look, for anyone with dignity) was the only one awkward enough to make the ball pop out again. She gave me a knee exam, mainly for her practice, before taking a look at the results of the tests.

The blood test was fine, completely normal (my veins are good, apparently), but the x-ray showed something a little more interesting: Osteochondritis Dissecans (oss-tee-oh-con-dry-tis des-ee-cans). The intern didn't have a clue what this was, which made me very happy, as I hated boring illnesses. Then the doctor entered, and yelled at the intern for looking at the test and x-ray results without making a prognosis. 

We went into a different doctor's office (I'm not sure why) and the two made a list of all the possible problems that my knee may have been experiencing (I'm happy to report that Osteochondritis Dissecans was the most interesting sounding of the lot). My doctor then explained that the problem was a little bit of cartilage had broken of and was floating around my knee. This was a pretty common thing among teenagers, as the growing bones mean the blood flow doesn't quite reach the outermost parts of the bones and cartilage, causing the part to die and fall off. 

The doctor said we should go and see an Orthopaedic Surgeon who would most likely do a CAT scan on my knee before deciding whether or not to cut up my knee and pull out the little bit of cartilage. We are booked in with him on December 3rd. For the time being it's looking like I'll  get out of sport for a while and stick to some exercises my mum instructed me to do to strengthen the muscles surrounding my knee.

Anyway, the next birthday on the agenda is my dad's (October 28th), which I now have to shop for. Kinda sucks (for me) that it's so close to Father's Day. Oh, I've also felt a strange, hard lump about 1cm in diameter on the back left part of my neck, which both my parents think is related to the tick I found in my ear yesterday, which caused my left ear to swell wonderfully (and somewhat painfully). Provided the lump isn't cancer, I'm still hoping it's something more interesting still.

Still more wonderful things to report on, but I'll wait for another post for all of them.

In memory of the wondrous art of pre-emptive gluing,
Nick.

Blood Tests and X-Rays (oh, and a birthday)

Anyone who has spoken to me for a space of time over the last month will have probably heard me complaining about my sore knee, and, if they were lucky enough, would have seen the little round ball of something which rolls up from underneath the kneecap and sits underneath the skin until I roll it back down. Quite an event, I know.

Anyway, I showed my dad the little ball one day and his limited knowledge of the medical profession did not extend far enough to have any idea what the hell was going on. He booked me in for a doctors appointment and off we went. 

After sitting in the waiting room for 25 minutes, the doctor (described by my dad as "one of those old, trustworthy, country GP's") showed us to his office. I described my ailment to him and he, too, was at a loss, even after poking around my knee for a few minutes. I don't think he quite grasped what was going on with the little ball, but he narrowed it down to three possibilities: it's rheumatic (he reminisced about a case from 30 years ago where someone came in with a sore knee and left with rheumatic fever), it's localised arthritis (my Dad quickly dismissed this after we'd left as it didn't fit with his limited knowledge of medicine), or it's something else. That's the second time in six months (after four and half years of never seeing the doctor) that I've gone to the doctor and they've not known what's wrong with me. 

Anyway, he prescribed a blood test and X-rays, so ff we went to the nice lady from Capital Pathology who fell in love with my veins as soon as she saw them. After suggesting I join the 'vampire club' and admiring my hair, she jabbed a needle into right arm and, low and behold, nothing happened. She told me that it wasn't the fault of my wonderful veins but that of the needle she was working on (something which offered surprisingly little comfort). I rolled up my left sleeve (more exclamations about my wonderful veins) and in went another needle, and, low and behold, nothing happened. She laughed that off, and, with the needle still in my arm, she switched cartridges and found success. She taped that up and off we went to Radiology.


We sat in the Radiology waiting room for another ten minutes before I was taken into the radiation room and told to remove my shoes by a lady who had the air of someone who likes their job but knows it isn't going to take them any further in life. We tried out a few different positions under the big, awesome x-ray machine which I was rather impressed by and she took a few shots and sent them off to the doctor. I should hear the results of both tomorrow, and I have a horrible feeling that the doctor's going to say "we're not sure what's happening there, but it should fix itself up if you take it easy for a few weeks". I had disappointing results (localised arthritis sounds much more dramatic than "I don't know.").

In other news, I celebrated my fifteenth birthday on Monday, after waking up to an empty house (my mum at a conference, my dad doing maintenance work up the mountains and my sister working at McDonald's). Once my dad and my sister got back we went out to lunch and I received $300 towards my DSLR camera (amongst other things). I now have a grand total of $407.15, and I'm aiming for $800 by the end of the year. Wish me luck.

My birthday party with those pretend friends of mine will be happening when things warm up a little later in the year.

I think 636 words will do for now.

In memory of the wondrous art of pre-emptive gluing,
Nick. (654 now)

You know what I hate?

Teachers who care too much.

I mean, seriously. Get over it. I get that you are paid to teach us and all, but it's about time you realised that no one cares.

I don't have a problem with the ones that tell us what's going on and half-wish some of us were listening, it's those teachers that sit you down and don't give half a rat's arse about anything other than making sure everybody in the room is giving them their undivided attention, especially the ones that think they have some control over the room but don't.

Take, for example, the substitute teacher we had for computers recently. He was attempting to extend a little authority over the room, and had the following conversation with me (now, this is paraphrasing, because it was a long time ago and I wasn't paying much attention):

Teacher:

Nick, sit down.

(I suppose I should set the scene a little. This was in a computer room, and I had wheeled myself [as I was on a wheelie chair] over to some other people's computers. The aforementioned teacher was determined to put a stop to this)

Me:

I am, sir.

Teacher:

[fuck me.] In front of your computer.

(I should point out, anything in [square brackets] was only thought, not actually said)

Me:

[fuck me.] Okay, sir.

(I wheeled myself back over to my computer)

Teacher:

Now, Nick, I don't want you leaving this spot again, okay?

Me:

I was only trying to help Anna, sir.

Teacher:

[like fuck you were.] If she needs help with anything, she can ask me.

(I didn't realise everyone swears so much in their mind until right now, either)

Me:

But you're not the IST teacher, sir. She asked me because she knows I know the way to do it, sir.

(I didn't have to call him 'sir', I was hoping it'd annoy him more)

Teacher:

No. Nick. This here (He gestured to the computer I was working on) is your space. I want to stay in your space, and use your computer. Okay?

Me:

[fuck off.] It's not really my computer, sir. It's the school's. Technically, this space is theirs, too.

(the teacher gave up on me at this point. I spent the rest of the lesson playing games, because I'm such a vindictive rebel)

I'll end this here, because I've forgotten the point of the story.

In memory of the wondrous art of pre-emptive gluing,
Nick.

And so it begins...

Hello, agitated readers. Consider this a post of sundry greetings and meagre welcomes. Come; take a seat under the metaphorical tree of Eternal Wisdom, a tree of wonder and glory, full of happy fruits and mystical leaves. At the moment, the tree is in spring, full of buds and berries. This tree, if it were to exist, would grow indefinitely in the thick forests of a magical reverse-Siberia, a place with endless horizons of forests which also happens to follow the seasons of the Southern Hemisphere.

This is my small corner of the internet, where I shall spend a little time each week to speak with my very own captivated audience (that one that doesn’t actually exist), if I can be bothered. It is a place where I will share my thoughts, my photography and my wondrous tastes in music and television. I’m sure you’ll have the time of your life. Do read on.

So, what can you expect from this wondrous little blog? Pretty much what you’d expect from an hour with any near-fifteen year old introvert (albeit one that likes being the centre of attention) with a wonderful sense of pseudo-intelligence. Not all that much, really.

In memory of the wondrous art of pre-emptive gluing,

Nick.