The Sentinels

I don't know about you but when I see something I'm not familiar with, I try and guess from context what it is or what it might be used for.

For instance, there is some construction going on near my office building and just the other day when out on my walk I noticed these strange dealies sitting ready to be included in the process somehow.

The logical part of my brain suggested that they looked like something that might be used in the foundations.
This was a pretty safe bet as they're just finishing up preparing the ground and are getting ready to lay the foundations.

The part of my brain that gets most of the votes on what to think about concurred on the foundations part but decided that they looked like dog kennels and that if someone was going to place dog kennels in the foundations of a building they would probably be placed at four points in the foundations and contain guardians, an act of sympathetic magic to protect the building being constructed.

Now these guardians could be of several natures:

• Artificial. Made out of stone or other such materials and placed symbolically like Terracotta warriors to arise when needed.
• Supernatural. Immortal creatures that can endure without sustenance or sunshine and whose presence provides a real occult protection which moves from passive to active if the property is under attack. Hopefully being confined underground, possibly for decades or centuries, wouldn't drive them insane otherwise demolition work would require superhuman effort and bravery.
• Sacrificial. My least favourite, real dogs are placed within the kennels and entombed when they are inserted into the foundations of the building. The sacrifice of the living creatures  is a compact with the gods and is supposed to ensure that their spirits are bound to the building which they then vigorously defend.

 

 And these are the things I think about when out for a walk.

Makes sense to me.

Unhelpful Uncle

At a family gathering yesterday a few different people seemed to have things to say about our upcoming trip to Nepal.

One aunt was chatting away about a story she'd read in a weekend paper supplement about a guy who had spent a few months trekking around in the mountains of Nepal and who then had to spend 6 weeks in hospital recovering after he got home.

That was OK, we're not planning to be as high for as long or to push it like that fellow.

Then my uncle decided to chime in.
"I have to tell you that a woman I used to work with went and did this trek with a Canadian girl and the Canadian girl never made it back.
She died of Mountain Sickness.
They got her back to the Kathmandu hospital whilst she was still alive but she didn't pull through."

'I didn't need to hear that' I thought.

"Of course, she'd been having breathing difficulties for a while. Sounding all bubbly and wheezy.
But she kept saying 'it was only a little bit further' and refused to turn back.
And she was drinking alcohol the whole time.
And this was 20 years ago."

Thanks, unhelpful uncle.
So not only did she get Mountain Sickness (which I will forever hear in a 'Tales of Interest!' from Futurama voice) because she went against specific medical advice after experiencing symptoms of difficulty, she was drinking and not getting adequate rest or hydration etc.
And as it was 20 years ago they probably knew less about altitude sickness and if she was even part of a guided tour they probably weren't as rigorous about safety and First Aid Training and their guides (assuming they had any) won't have been trained in monitoring and treating the symptoms of altitude sickness and definitely won't have been carrying an inflatable decompression chamber.

So thanks for amping up the idea that I might die of 'Mountain Sickness!' for no reason :-/

Alien Concepts

It feels like we're in a unique point in history and it's both intriguing and a little bit melancholy.

We've watched huge leaps in technological advancement being built on the achievements of the previous generations, each leap a little closer in time to the last and yet taking us further in concept each time.

This means that we're a generation more used to large changes to our lifestyle and our ways of thinking.

We've seen more of the elements of our science fiction favourites being brought into everyday life and have a better ability to predict what may be possible and to strive for what is on the edge of that possibility.

And all this means that we are able to look at our lives and experiences and predict what things are going to fall by the wayside and how quickly.

I might be incorrect but I get the feeling that even though our parents and grandparents knew that change was inevitable they still were taken a bit by surprise when things that they'd grown up with or used their entire adult lives were rendered completely obsolete within a matter of months or a year by a new development.

I know even for people my age it was a bit startling at first watching VHS getting superseded by DVD (with a brief bit of competition from HD DVD format), but as DVD is nudged in the back by Blu-Ray there's more of a 'ho hum, another one bites the dust' feeling.

Even as something new comes out now we know that it has a finite lifespan and that the new thing will be not far behind.
Whether the new thing will last or not is unknown but we know it's coming.

Of course this reflective train of thought all started with the realisation that 'OH MY GOD, SCHOOL KIDS WILL NEVER AGAIN GIVE CLASS PRESENTATIONS USING OVERHEAD PROJECTORS! THEY PROBABLY HAVEN'T DONE THAT SINCE THE EARLY 2000s!'

So in honour of that, here is a brief list of little memories that the next generation won't get to experience.

THINGS THE NEXT GENERATION IS GOING TO MISS OUT ON

• Doing Presentations Using Overhead Projectors. I don't know about you but I used to love doing these. When you were younger you were set loose with some special textas that wrong on the plastic projector sheets and had to very carefully try to write or draw as much of your presentation as possible onto your sheet so that you didn't look like that one weenie whose last sentence had to turn sideways down the side of the page.
  In university I got to have one last play with an overhead projector and printed a colour photocopy of an Italian Renaissance painting onto a sheet of clear plastic for an Italian Art and History class presentation. I spent an embarrassing amount of time holding it up to the light and just gazing through it from either side. It was like having my own very detailed stained glass window.

Overhead Projectors: They Are Cool

• Get To Play With Cassette Tapes And All The Fiddling That Entailed. I mean really, think about all the experiences associated with cassettes.
  -Rewinding them and listening to that clunky 'click!' as they got to the end of the tape.
  -Winding them up with a pencil when they unspooled or if you were fiddling around.
  -Learning to listen to that moment of emptiness that signalled that it had got past the blank bit of tape at the start and you should start recording from this point onwards so that you didn't cut the start off your favourite songs.
  -Physically turning a cassette over unless you had a 'fancy' deck/walkman that did it for you.
  
  (I know these all sound like the things that old people go on about much to their grandchildren's chagrin but this is the point! We're getting to the nostalgia part of life about 30 or 40 years ahead of schedule!)
• Going To The Video Store To Rent Movies. If video stores last another 5 to 10 years I will actually be a bit surprised. What with downloadable movie/TV series rental services already up and running, purchasing your own movies and so forth cheaper than it used to be and the high incidence of movie piracy that goes on amongst the social bracket that used to do all the renting because they couldn't afford to buy*, the profit margins must be getting pretty slim these days.
  But not having that experience of being given a time limit for picking movies, a SET number of movies that was NOT up for negotiation due to the deals the store was offering, and all the bargaining and arguing that went on with your siblings... Well where is the drama and the excitement with doing that from home?
  If you're sitting in front of the family computer with your Mum saying 'I'm only clicking one more item, which one is it going to be?', where's the fun in that?
• Being Excited About Songs On The Radio. You can still get excited about your favourite songs coming on the radio but now that you can just go straight to Youtube or another online service and listen to any song you like on demand at any time, it just isn't the same thing.
  Waiting by your radio with your finger hovering over the record button to catch a song on cassette helped you develop lightning fast reflexes.

There are tonnes of other examples but these are the ones that have popped into my head which I felt met the criteria without straying too far into 'They won't remember telephones with cords' which is a different kind of deal.

It makes you wonder whether as we become more used to change going into the future whether our growing adaptability will be our biggest asset or whether it will lead us to be so flighty in our attentions and loyalties that we're going to shoot ourselves in the foot as a species.

I guess we'll see.



*This is definitely a big generalisation but the more bogan-y a person is the more likely it is that they're pirating movies.

I Am An Idiot

Remember when my friend had her baby and I said I was going to do some stealth tidying for her?
Yeah, well it had some unintended consequences.

I ran around, did some dusting, tidied a few things up, ran the vacuum around... and pulled a muscle in my back.

Yep.

Apparently due to the bending, twisting and pushing involved in vacuuming, vaccuming is a big ole back-muscle-pulling-danger-zone that is putting the children of healthcare professionals through school.

Especially if their patients are idiots.

OK, here's the timeline:

Saturday 14 July: Do speed vacuuming, pull a muscle without noticing - no really, I didn't feel a thing which I'm told is not uncommon - and don't start feeling achey for a few hours and assume I'm just tired.

Sunday 15 July: Wake up and 'achey' has progressed to 'my back muscles are wings of a prison and they are all in lockdown' also known as super-stiff.

Monday 16 July: Ring up and make an appointment to see the myotherapist on Tuesday (thankfully she had an appointment available that soon) and get through a day of work.

Tuesday 17 July: Work a half day, drive to my appointment, make sad face at the myotherapist who tortures me for money. Feel a LOT better.

Wednesday 18 July - Monday 23 July: Do the walking, stretching exercises and heatpack stuff I have been ordered to, take it easy and feel SO much better.

Tuesday 24 July: Get tortured again by the myotherapist who tells me that if the last bit of residual tightness across my lower back isn't gone in a week I'll probably need an adjustment from a physiotherapist because it'll mean that a join is out of alignment.

Wednesday 25 July - Friday 27 July: Continue being good and feeling better.

Saturday 28 July: Feeling so good apart from that last little bit of tightness that after my walk and heatpack stuff I decide to see if I can just stretch it out a little in case it's just being stubborn.

BAD IDEA!

WORST IDEA!

YOU FREAKING MORON!

Sunday 29 July: Well done jackass, it's prison lockdown time again.

Monday 30 July: Appointment with physiotherapist (thank goodness she had one available so soon!) who tells me my sacroiliac joint was slightly misaligned which was why the muscles wouldn't settle and the tightness etc had persisted, then folds me up like a camp bed, puts her hand under my bum, pushes on my knee and realigns my misaligned bits. Everything feels looser.

Tuesday 31 July - Wednesday 1 August: Yay!

Thursday 2 August: Nope, the muscles that tightened up when I tried my stupid stretching trick are still tight enough that they aren't letting my back settle all the way down.

Friday 3 August - Sunday 5 August: Walking, heat pack, gradual improvement, tightness, blah.

Monday 6 August: Another appointment with the myotherapist who works me so hard that I'm sure I will get bruises on my bum but who leaves the muscles all loosened up and hopefully allows the joint alignment to settle the rest of the way.

In short, I am an idiot and have finally learned the 'do what you're told' lesson when it comes to injuries, especially when they involve your back.



Post Script [Wednesday 8 August]: Yep, little bruises all over my tushie, like a constellation in black and blue.

Post Post Script [Monday 13 August]: I just had another session with the physiotherapist who had another go at the joint and thinks it should be good now. Now just to stick to what I'm told and not think 'herp-a-derp I bet I can fix it if I just do this!'
If I had left well enough alone and just made the physiotherapist appointment for Monday 30 July it would have been done and dusted in two weeks instead of a month plus however long I need to be careful with myself to avoid re-injury.
LESSON LEARNED!

Ricochet's Zombie-Proof Roman Villa-Inspired House Plan

The law of averages dictates that out there are people who are - to a greater or lesser degree - planning their dream house designs based on how zombie-proof said houses may be.

I personally have been considering this sort of thing ever since, I saw the movie Jurassic Park and realised how easy it would be for velociraptors to smash their way into the family house through the huge windows which grace every room, and eat my entire family*.

There are some existing house designs that you could opt for without drawing the suspicions of the council or the concern of your neighbours, such as the classic 'Queenslander'.

The Queenslander could definitely be a strong contender as long as you had a way to destroy the staircase safely, made sure that you had access to water and enough food stockpiled or a safe way to exit and enter the house without making yourself a snack or inviting observant zombies or human raiders back into your home.
The height would give some peace of mind as long as the stability of the foundations was assured and fire wasn't too much of a risk**.

But personally I like the idea of thick strong walls on the ground***, surrounding you and protecting fertile soil where you can grow vegetables and keep animals to help sustain you.
For that reason my preference would be for a modified enclosed Roman villa-style building.

To make this design more zombie-proof you would of course minimise the windows on the outer wall of the structure, and make sure that those that remained were small-framed and high-set to allow light and air where appropriate but no physical ingress.

The main door would be heavy, outward opening (so that pressure applied from the outside wouldn't open it) and easy to bolt and bar with both a thick wooden outer door and a heavy metal lattice portcullis as an inner door. If the outer door is breached the portcullis should hold back intruders whilst allowing you to kill and reduce them, hopefully driving them back long enough to secure the outer perimeter if safe.

The walls would be thick, both for protection and to muffle the moans of the undead which would cause psychological distress over time.

The roofs would be broad and set up with water collection/storage and solar panels.

The central space would be set up to allow the growing of fruit and vegetables and the keeping of chickens for eggs and meat, and goats for milk if space and arrangements allow.

A well to complement the collected water would be a wonderful addition for peace of mind.

The four corners could be adapted to each host a high observation tower to let sentries keep an eye on how things were going, man radios if available and possibly communicate with other survivors by means of shining lights or using mirrors to flash Morse code messages, use weapons if needs be.

The plentiful rooms would allow multipurpose areas: sleeping areas that could be transformed to living areas during the day, food storage and preparation, laundry areas, work and manufacturing areas.

If practical underground rooms could be included and used for storage and would be more appropriate for peaceful and safe sleeping areas.

And I guess I would explain all of this to the council and my architect as an attempt to get on Grand Designs Australia and hope that they buy it and don't have me put away in a mental asylum.
I expect it'll help if I don't actually indicate where gun turrets should be mounted on the towers.

And all I need to do to make this a reality is get rich enough to build this place whilst also making time to learn how to manage a garden, keep livestock, preserve foods, shoot and maintain firearms and make sure that none of the people who I plan to invite to join me in my lovely villa are the type to crack, throw the gates open and go running screaming into a horde because they can't take it any more****.



*I was a pretty mercenary child. I had calculated my chances of being able to save anyone seeing as the velociraptors would have access to every part of the house simultaneously thanks to all the windows, realised they were so low as to be negligible and had decided that my best bet would be to scramble into the top of my built-in-robe shelves, try and kick my way into the roof-space and then lie their with my fingers crammed into my ears trying not to listen to the sounds of my family being rent asunder.
Velociraptors are a lot faster and smarter than zombies, what other options did I have?

**Honestly if zombies overrun Australia, a pressing concern along with being eaten alive would be the bushfires that would likely break out and sweep across the country unchecked, burning out survivors and foodstuffs but hopefully crisping the hell out of a large percentage of the undead at the same time.

***And not having to worry about a sea of the undead swaying and moaning below you as you slept, constantly dreaming of the floor giving way and dropping you into their waiting arms...

****Or the type who will decide the zombies are a judgement from God and that we either deserve this because we've brought it upon ourselves OR that the zombies will only eat the unrighteous and that this is a test.

Truth Written In Sinew and Bone

I'm not one of the first people you would have expected to have survived the outbreak.

I'm not an athlete or a doctor or a soldier or a survivalist or even a gamer who has spent enough time joking about these things to have some practical plans or skills laid by.

I'm a physiotherapist.

I have a BAppSci (Physio), a PGDipRehabStudies and an MSport Physio.

Try telling anyone that these days and having them care.

Before all this happened I spent my life dealing with sports injuries, lifestyle injuries and people with physical disabilities or congenital conditions that meant that moving normally had never been an option, at least not without help and coaching.

So when things went crazy it was just a combination of luck and being a running enthusiast that kept me alive long enough to work out what was going on and then long enough after that to really believe it.

After that... Well, my skills have come in surprisingly handy in trading with other survivors. You wouldn't believe the amount of people who are willing to feed you if you can help fix their bung knee or ease their wrenched back and increase their chances of living past the next dicey situation.

It's not easy though, treating people in this new landscape.

Things I would usually have been able to spend months correcting slowly and advocating rest periods and gentle exercise for, I either have to push through in a matter of days or leave as they are, instead giving the patients a few tricks to help alleviate the symptoms and some exercises that will hopefully strengthen and correct muscle movement or skeletal alignment over time. If they live long enough and have the luxury to perform them.

Unless they're part of a collective which is willing and strong enough to feed and fend for the person recovering for long enough to get things right, the quick fix is the only fix that wouldn't actually be a death sentence.

By doing this I know I'm ensuring that they're going to have problems in the long run, but if I treat them properly then they'll be too sore or weakened to survive the short term.

It hurts my professional pride to send them out into the world knowing that they're going to carry these burdens for the rest of their lives but there isn't much room for pride these days, at least not as a practitioner.

The other way my training has come in handy is almost too bizarre but thinking back, I think it's the only reason I've made it this far.

I know the undead don't feel pain. They can keep coming at you with broken bones, trailing organs, gaping head wounds and all the rest but you'd be surprised by how much who they were in life still shows in how they move now. And how helpful that can be.

You're hiding in an alley, peeking out to see if it's safe to dash across the road to your next patch of shelter or to wherever you're going foraging for supplies, and you see what's left of a woman lurching and swaying down the street.
She's barely clothed, certainly not wearing shoes and from what's left of her muscle tone you'd be justified in guessing she's in good physical shape and could probably move fast enough to be a serious danger to you.
If you didn't know what to look for.
Despite her immunity to pain and fatigue... Well, in layman's terms, 20 odd years of wearing high heels have shortened her calf muscles and tendons to a point where it's amazing that she's able to walk in this state. Without the agility and compensatory balance she could have mustered in life, this one can only move so fast without face-planting, giving you plenty of time to cross the distance.

More than once when being pursued I've heard tendons or ligaments pop when put under strain they don't have the integrity or strength to endure, leaving their former owners partially immobilised but no less hungry.

I never thought the day would come that I would be grateful for the prevalence of poor posture and sedentary lifestyles that affected our country.

Being able to spot long-time back injury sufferers, those who have scoliosis, those with recurring sports injuries, those with slipped or compressed discs means survival.
It means knowing which parts of a group to dodge around, which ones could be used as shields from the others who were faster and stronger, giving you long enough to get away after they've collided with each other.
It also means being able to see that one good blow to a knee or a hip could leave one of them broken enough to let you get away or time enough to end them for good.
You have no idea how hard it is as a health professional to swing that bat the first time, aiming for a weakness that all your instincts have been trained to protect but what choice do I have?

And seeing someone walk, someone who in life would never have been able to take a single step due to the pain that would cause them...
It's a miracle so terrible that the first time I saw it I threw up until I burst a blood vessel in my eye.

I think my lowest point came when I'd been alone for a few weeks and I came across what used to be a young girl, maybe 15.
She'd obviously liked sports in life but I could see that her core muscles weren't engaging which was making her slower and weaker than you'd expect someone of her age to be.
I'd been scavenging some firewood when she found me and of course I started to run away.
She followed me, naturally.
And I started - God I feel so stupid - I started running in a zig zag pattern, just slow enough to get her to change direction with me.
I did this every day for two weeks, telling myself I was just going back for more firewood and tinned goods.
Then I started leading her underneath fallen branches or the hoods of flipped cars that had come to rest on other crashed cars, getting her to crouch and bend.
Over and over again.
And it worked, it had an effect, every day she got a little stronger, her movements a little smoother, and I was so proud of myself!
Until she almost caught me.
I still have the shirt with the hole in the sleeve. Thank Christ for quick reflexes.

A lot of survivors talk about the 'make or break point'.
The point where you finally realise what is going on, all the veils fall away and you look it straight in the face.
You could have kept yourself alive and healthy for MONTHS, have your 'make or break point' sprung on you, and it's anyone's guess as to whether you'll pull yourself together and move on or just fall apart.
That was mine.

I am not a healer any more. I can't be.
My skills are now a commodity, not a calling.
And unless the cavalry comes roaring over the hill one day, that's the way things are going to stay.

I'm not sure how much longer my luck is going to hold out, how long I'll be able to find food and dodge swarms, but whilst I can I'm going to make the most of it.

Enjoy what joys life still has to offer while I can bring myself to see them, do the good I still can, and just keep breathing.

I hope you do too, whoever you are.

And for the love of all that is holy, take care of your knees.

Baby!

Phew!

Alrighty then.

My friend has had her baby!

I didn't get to witness the (terrifying) miracle of birth as, despite being two weeks overdue and the doctors giving some medical encouragement, baby had not descended (ie, headed towards the main gates) and due to his apparent size the doctors recommended a Caesarean.

I did however get to witness part of the miracle of labour and yeah, it looks kind of uncomfortable.

Back to the baby!

As predicted by every single ultrasound they've had, it's a boy!

He weighed in at 10 lb 4 oz*!

Don't ask me why but babies is one thing where our metric measuring country uses pounds and ounces to give weights. Maybe because it makes it easier for people of earlier generations** to go 'woooh, that's a big lad!' without having to reach for the calculator.

Mum and bub are both doing well, even if Mum is a bit sore in the midsection from being opened up .

Given he's so brawny you're not as worried about accidentally breaking him as you*** are with the really itty bitty bubs and I've got to have a few holds.

It is still really REALLY weird to think of my friend as being a mother, a sentiment she whole-heartedly shares, but she and her fella are doing so well with him already. It's all adoring stares and goo-goo eyes and kisses over there.

She'll be in the hospital a few days more whilst they make sure she's recovering from surgery OK and that she is managing to insert Tab A into Slot B successfully****.

We're off to buy the happy family some little gifts and do some sneaky housework for them whilst we're at their house under the camouflage of the legitimate purpose of feeding their pets.

It's weird to think that everything is going to change now, exciting too.



*4.66 kg!

**Yes, Australia used to use the Imperial system. We swapped over somewhere between the start of the 1970s and the end of the 1980s.

***Well, me...

****Tab A is her nipple! Slot B is the baby's mouth!