The Rattrap of the Future

Rats, cont…

I discovered that rattraps are poorly made. It doesn’t matter if they are wood or plastic. – some part will break right away. Some traps last for “the one big kill” and that’s it. Others decompose if left outdoors for a night or two. Like I said, “in search of a better rattrap.”

Then, as I cruised the web (as I am wont to do), I came across “The Rat Zapper.” What a great idea! The rat walks into the blue container in search of the treats you’ve placed in it, steps on a metal plate, and kaboom. The device is humane and hygienic. I only wish it had worked.



First of all, the Rat Zapper sells for $29 in the US. Australia customs won’t allow you to import one, because it is used to maim or destroy an animal. Well, yuh! So, I bought a Rat Zapper from an Australian distributor. $125 (AUD) later, plus the $20 special AA batteries it requires, I was on my way to rat-free-dom. So I thought.

I’ll skip a bit through the process and jump to the results: two mice and a whole bunch of electrocuted slugs. An electrocuted slug in a Rat Zapper is a little like have your KY Jelly explode in your dresser drawer. ‘Nuff said.

My Rat Zapper is back with the distributor who is testing it. I will try to remain optimistic. My friends now think I'm crazier than I really am!

Next: A trap, a mouse, and a bucket of water.

Cheers, Judi

In Search of a Better Rat Trap....

In search of a better rat trap…

Have we discussed my rat problems? More so, have we discussed my rattrap problems?

Feeding birds on a balcony tends to attract rodents – where there is seed, there are rodents. I’m not exactly a mouse fan, but I have to say the rats are really really getting to me. I’m not talking about the cute little hippety hoppity bush rats – nope, these are your common, not so very cute rat rat.

I started out with such high ideals. My first rat elimination technique was going to be the catch ‘em and let ‘em go kind of trap. I even found a man who makes the devices and only lives a few burbs over. They were cheap. My mind was swayed after talking to various people about rat problems. My neighbor, who is a really, sweet and gentle guy, would just as soon destroy them all and if they suffer, all the better. Ian is not a rat fan. Besides, what do you do with them after you catch them? Take them to the bush down the street so they can journey to and frequent someone else’s house? Is that fair?

Most people I spoke with use rat poison. They say that ended their rat problem. But I just can’t do that! First, it makes them suffer – they dehydrate and die or seeking water, they drown. And then what about the poor schmuck who then eats the poisoned rat? It just goes on. It offends my environmental sensitivities.

So, I go to the store and buy your basic (plastic or wood, wire or coil….) mouse and rattraps. I convince myself this is the most upstanding solution. We had immediate success – two rats in as many days. We were on a roll. Except, rats are not stupid. In fact, I think rats are pretty darn smart. Even when I set the trap directly in front of their little cartoon-like entrance – they must jump over it or something…. To be continued…

Cheers, Judi

Poem Below...

The poem I wrote yesterday is not very good, but it helped me get in touch with what was bothering me. I was anxious and sad and wanted to hide from the world. After writing the poem, I realized it was the Virginia Tech shooting that had jolted me. I found that I was angry that it happened, angry that someone didn't see it coming and sad for the beautiful people who lost their lives. All over the world people are being murdered in war or genocide... a classroom should be a safe place, but then again, that mold was broken long ago.

Mostly, I feel powerless to make the world any better or safer.

Hugs, Judi

The Conversation

Weapons of mass destruction kill thousands or thirty-two.

How can you measure the forces of sadness, loss and grief?

How does it feel standing - facing - a bullet-exploding door

Trying to save your own life?



Sometimes we think that wouldn't be so bad

But scary even with our approval.

I wonder if we would take it personally,

That someone wanted to kill us - whoever we might be?



I like to think that my heroism would bust out saving all

Even if it was time for me to go away.

It's easy to be brave and heroic with words.

How does it feel facing steely dead killing eyes?



I would have, of course, tried to talk to the shooter,

To help him work through his anger issues and anxieties.

We would sit together over a beer and chat.

I would tell him why it wasn't a good idea to kill people.



I would of course request all people go safely elsewhere,

So that the shooter and I could talk without distraction.

I would ask him why he wanted to kill others

When he could just commit suicide and float gently away.



He would tell me they all deserved it, those people,

And why he was angry with them and they had to die.

I would ask him if he wanted company during his death;

I would ask him why he felt that would help, him.



The shooter and I would relax more from the beer

And from our good conversation about anger and hate.

The shooter would lean back and sigh, perhaps he would look confused;

I would ask the shooter how he felt.



The shooter would tell me he felt better and he wished he had talked to me before

Before he decided to kill those people who walked by his life

I would feel the shooter's pain deep in my gut and my heart would hurt

And then I would kill him with his own gun.


-judi

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Being Multiple

“Multiple Personality Disorder” (MPD) is the outdated term for the currently accepted term “Dissociative Identity Disorder” (DID). I use these acronyms interchangeably. I usually refer to myself as “multiple”, so I’ll stick with that.

Trying to write about my multiplicity is no easy task. How many people find it interesting? Who finds it interesting? What do they think is interesting about it?

For entertainment value, there are lots of good jokes about multiples. For example:

How many alters does it take to change a light bulb?

As many as will: one to change the bulb, one to change it back, three to argue over whether they want it light or dark, one to throw the light bulb against the wall to hear it crash, one to clean up the mess, four to go shopping for new bulbs and come home with stockings, licorice, Disney movies, popcorn and masking tape, one who insists it "IS" the light bulb and doesn't understand why everyone always wants it to change and can't it just be itself???? etc....

How many alters does it take to screw in a light bulb?

“4” --- 1 to screw in the light bulb, 1 to watch the screwing in of the light bulb, 1 to deny the screwing in of the light bulb ever happened, and 1 to repress the memory.

A difficult thing about living multiple is that many of my friends cannot understand when I am having a hard time. For friends who knew me “before diagnosis,” it is particularly confusing. In fact, it might be as difficult for them to accept my multiplicity as it was for me when first diagnosed. It’s a “concept” that is just difficult to “get your head around.”

It is also hard for friends to understand my need for solitude and quiet. Due to the extra activity in my brain, I become over-stimulated quickly. I can only tolerate being around anyone for more than 2-3 hours at a time… to say nothing of the many times I need to be alone. How can I expect a friend to understand that I have “someone” crying “inside” causing me to be sad or anxious?

It is also difficult for an “SPD” (singular personality disorder – ha ha) to understand my concept of time. I guess that “concept” would best be described as “variable.” For example, a couple of months might feel like a couple of weeks to me. I’ll try to explain more later. I don’t want you getting bored!

Hugs, Judi (et al)

What is going on?

Perhaps you have read the recent story in an Australian newspaper (SMH) about five teenage boys who raped a seventeen year old girl and filmed it on their mobile phone. This isn't the first story like this, and it is unlikely to be the last. What hit me with this story is the incredible lack of respect the boys have for this girl (or any). They get her drunk, they take her to a bedroom, they rape and otherwise molest her, they laugh at her, egg each other on and film the incident, and they toss her onto the front steps of her home without some of her clothing.

What is going on? I'm not sure... is it testosterone run wild? Have people become so used to seeing and hearing about inhumane acts that kids have embraced that immorality? I can't read about the various "wars" in Africa without hearing about the rapes that occur and the incredible brutality (using guns to physically rape) women and the physical and longterm damage that does to a woman.

We find ourselves in a world where lopping off a person's head is commonplace. This doesn't happen just in the war zone, however. Yesterday I read about two men who beheaded a seventeen year old boy and bowled with the boy's head.

Hello?????!!!!!

I can understand the mentality in one sense, because the various "powers that be" use their religious beliefs to justify atrocities. Our overtly "christian" president Bush appears to have no problem killing countless people (for whatever reason he chooses at any given moment). I'm sure he prays for them. Islam does the same in that they justify suicide bombs and beheadings as the will of Allah.

There are many explanations why the teenage boys came to rape and humiliate the girl. We can blame it on the media, on the internet, on the breakdown of the family, on childhood abuse and neglect, and so on. It sickens me, however, to hear a boy's grandfather blame the victim and provide excuses for the boy. Accountability?

How much responsibility belongs to the boy's family (especially good ol' grandad)? How much to the boy(s)? Society? Media? Internet?

It's hard to be optimistic. Are we all "going to the dogs?" I wish we would - they are far more sensible and less brutal than humans.

It's just so sad.

With love, Judi

On the Paws Front - Good News

We have guardedly good news about Sammy. Last Saturday morning, I took him in for his check up with Kay, our wonderful vet. The bad news is that Sammy has Lymphoma. The bumps and lumps I was concerned about turned out to be just fatty cysts (one calcified). The vet, however, found a little nipple like growth on Sammy's tummy. We are fortunate that she found it, because it is the nasty one and as with most cancers, the sooner it's found, the better to be able to treat it early.

Kay took more blood and sent it to pathology. The pathologist, who did the original test, said that with some slight abnormalities, everything important was within the norm. I say she's wonderful, because she called me at 8:00 PM on a Saturday night to let me know the test results - less than seven hours after the blood was taken.

So if Kay got the whole cancer with the little nipple-like thing she cut out, we might be in good shape. But nothing is for sure (except death and taxes as they say), so I will need to check Sammy for enlarged lymph nodes in certain areas of his body on a monthly basis. We will also have regular checkups at the vet's, because some of the changes can be extremely subtle and easily overlooked by inexperienced hands - mine!

So after a good flow of tears, I am somewhat stable again (everything is relative you know!) and my main worry has been keeping Sammy from licking his wounds. I got chastised for not making him wear the funny lampshade thing, but he looked so uncomfortable in it and kept bumping into everything!! Anyway, our next appointment is Thursday, and the stitches will come out. Things look like they are healing well.

Unfortunately, I came across a couple of lumps on Karma. One lump is small and I first noticed it about 6 months ago (I'm not very good about time, so I'm guessing here.) The other lump looks to be a small wound caused by a nasty twig jab. The small sores on this lump were slightly infected, so both dogs are on antibiotics.

Taking Karma to the vet is not fun. As soon as anyone tries to touch him, he goes ballistic. He tries to bite the vet when she is simply listening to his heart. For this reason, I have become expert in applying a muzzle. He doesn't like it, but it sure cuts down on some of the stress - and doggie bites.... and he is not kidding. I think he has some abuse issues as a puppy, so touching him in certain ways will incur doggie wrath and teeth. Thursday, the vet will try again to biopsy the one bump, and hopefully, it will be a fatty cyst.



I wonder at times, why people bother with health insurance without insuring their pets. In the last couple of weeks we have spent an easy $1k (AUD) on doggie health. Even my health expenses haven't been quite so dear! Oh well. What else to do? Sammy and Karma are my best buddies!

Luv and Hugs, Judi

Red-bellied black snake

Almost stepped on a Red Bellied Black Snake today out walking by the Fishponds west of Hornsby. What a great name - it really rolls off the tongue - Red -- Bellied -- Black -- Snake. Wow. He looked pretty cool as well.

Tim

No Body No Pain

My body would hurt so if I had one

Instead of my head bobbing and bobbing
In the air like a helium filled balloon
Because the pain sometimes feels

Would feel, unbearable.

But, since I am just a head
When I feel this bad
My body feels no pain
No body, No pain.

Sometimes I feel that a body
Might be better than a head
Because the body hurt can go away
Pain in ones head is eternal.

Or so it seems

Why is it that head pain
Is called pain as in the body?
Or is it pain in the heart?
Of course, the heart is in the body.

Should it not be called something else?
Like poison of the soul?
And body pain is a symptom of illness
From which one can die.

So, can one die from soul pain?
Heart or head or soul – pain.
I guess that might be suicide
Or the body just finally giving in.

Are they tied together
This soul and this heart, head and body?
Such that for one to live
They all must thrive or at least try.

When my body disappears,
It gives my soul a time to howl
Without worry of death
Or of not trying hard enough.

Saturday, June 10, 2006
Judi and internal artists

"THE SCREAM"

Oil Painting 1980, Judy Castelli

"The Scream" was painted well before my diagnosis of multiple personality disorder (DID), and before my understanding of what exactly was going on inside. It was painted without the knowlege of alter personalities, and before any memories fo child abuse. It is an accurate view of what I felt like inside, almost all the time.
MPD DID, survivor art.

http://www.multiple-personality.com/gallery11.html

Sammy's Day at the Vet

I thought you might be interested in Sammy's condition, so here's an update. We picked him up from the Hornsby Vet at 5:00 PM (we had dropped him off at 8:30 AM). I was surprised how much energy he had as he came into the room where we were waiting. You would have thought he just came in from a walk in the park. This is good. Our Vet, Kay, is great. She actually talks to the dogs, like I do. This is a positive sign and something to look for in a good vet.

It sounds like Sammy is covered with all kinds of bumps - good, bad and who knows? Several of them are the fatty cyst type lumps that you don't need to worry about. But he had some of the not so easily brushed aside kind of lumps too. She showed us two vials with biopsies destined for the pathologist. One was the hard lump she removed from his "rump" and the other had appeared like a nipple on his belly - I never even noticed it. We don't know what's going to happen. He seems healthy and with luck, Kay got all the little (if there were any) nasties that need to be removed. Judging by the five inch incision with stitches on his rear leg, I hope she got at least most of it. He also has incisions on his tummy and his foreleg. Our test will be how to keep Sammy from wanting to go "walkies," which means "runnies" in doggie language. I told Tim I should just take him to the dog park - he never does anything there - just hangs out! Take away the fence though, and he's outta here!

For the next week, he is supposed to walk slowly. He is also supposed to wear one of the collars that juts out about a foot from his neck. Experience tells me that Sammy is not going to like that, but we need something to keep him from licking his stitches - and I can understand how stitches can get to the point of needing to be licked! Kay found more bumps on my little guy, but she's sure those are fatty cyst type lumps - no worries. Bottom line is that it's pretty much "wait and see." Ugh. Well, right now he's sleeping soundly on the floor in front of me. I think he's a little confused about what happened, but who isn't after surgery? I found some lumps on Karma too - of course, after their annual exam. I might bring him in during Sammy's follow up and have the doc check them out.

Well, that's all I know. We should get the biopsy results by next Saturday, and hopefully, earlier. Think good thoughts for my little bud.



Hugs, Judi

My Lumpy Dog

Sammy went to the vet this morning for surgery. They are going to remove two lumps from his hind leg and send them to be biopsied. One of the lumps has been there for quite a while, but the other is fairly new and harder. Lumps are fairly common on dogs (as people), but there are evil ones that must be watched. I'm a wreck and I cried when I left the vet's office. Sammy was a trouper until I started to leave, then he got a bit anxious. A friend of mine from the dog park works at this vet and will be working today. I'm glad that Sammy will have Nicky around - someone he knows. Nicky volunteers doing pet therapy by going to rest homes and visiting the elderly with her dog, BJ. I am convinced that BJ is a horse wearing a dog costume - he's huge. But the old folks love him. There is a funny photo I have showing Sammy and BJ together at the park. It might not be in the best taste, but it shows Sammy's optimistic spirit and BJ's calm nature.


On other matters....
The poem that I posted yesterday might be a bit too obtuse for general understanding. It's actually obtuse for me too. Instead of another poem right away, I'm going to post one of the many collages I've done (with inside help). Unless you zoom in, it will be difficult to capture some of the finer features of the art, but I hope you can appreciate them regardless of the limitations of the image. I believe this would be referred to as black art, so please don't expect a lovely, calming landscape.





I have many more collages, but these are two of my most recent works. I'll post some of the others later. My earlier collages are quite different to these.

Apologies for the somber tone of today's post - but I'm a bit down. Feel free to comment on anything you see or read on our blog. We only have two regular commenters, and we love to hear from them.







Oh, I forgot to mention. We had a black turkey right outside our bedroom door this morning. Tim heard flapping noises during the night, but had no idea what was causing the commotion. I'm not sure why he chose to visit us - perhaps he heard we don't eat meat or poultry!

Peace and hugs,
Judi

PS: We'll find out in a few hours how Sammy is doing. Send him healing thoughts please. :)

Poetry and Inside Cheerleaders

Tim asked me why I haven’t blogged yet, and I think it’s because I have so much to say, I don’t know where to start. I want to talk about mental health issues so we can all get them out of the closet (rather than hiding them as the dirty secret). I hardly know anyone who is not taking antidepressant medication. So, it stands to reason that at least a few people have mental health “issues.” This is one reason why I want to write about my DID/MPD. People need encouragement to talk about their personal problems and challenges. If more of us open up, perhaps that can happen.

Isn’t it fascinating? The human mind is amazing. At one point in my therapy, we identified 60 +/- “alters” – my inside people. I have male alters, women alters, child alters, partial alters, a cussing teenage girl alter, I’m sure I have a dog alter... I have one alter who has poor hearing and my eyesight varies as to “who” is seeing at the time. It is now possible for scientists to watch a person’s “switching” happening on a brain-scanning machine. Incredible!


Not long after my diagnosis in the 1990’s, I would have alters write poetry for (and to) me. I would do the physical act of writing, but it was as though I was channeling someone else’s words. I could write a five-page poem with complex metaphors, etc. in under 20 minutes. During the writing process, I would think, “this doesn’t make sense.” But at the final reading, I was always amazed how everything came together. I would like to show you some of my/our poetry. Some of it is simple, some of it is complex, sometimes it’s a little too sing-songy, but it’s always interesting. I will cut some parts out due to triggering images or if the content is too “sensitive,” but here’s a sample:

March 8, 2000 - Untitled

Pushing petals in the snow
Flowing waters whilst I go
In whose heart I barely tread
This I know I must be led.

To the point of my dismay
After which down I lay
On to heaven I will soar
Seeking justice ever more.

For the truth is hard to see
But it’s she that beckons me
Only I will rejoice for it
After which I’ll wearily sit.

Kindness grabs at my right hand
Scratching figures in the sand
Dismay will catch me this I know
But truth from heart will surely flow.

Kindness dupes the ones who hide
Pushing forth those who lied
Send me on to those poor souls
Drop me down through heaven’s holes.

Catch me now for I do sink
Buffeting winds force me to think
Cautious watchdogs we sit back
Waiting waiting for the attack

All I know and this I pray
Wonder will come to me this day
Hoping hoping for all to rise
Struggling not from those despised.

So, this I tell you as we sit
Truth unravels bit by bit
Push ahead and trounce the wall
Waiting waiting we heed the call.

I am Christopher hear me out
I’m a gentle soul and not a lout
Embrace me with your arm so tight
And hold me close with all your might.

And when I hide, you beckon me
You cannot wait and let me be.
You call me forth and make me talk
From your request I cannot walk.

But treat me kindly this you shall
And I’ll remain your sainted pal.
Kindness works of this I know
So step along and forward we go.

I bid adieu to you and yours
And go ahead and do your chores
I will work on what you ask
Preparing for the tedious task.

I won’t leave you don’t worry now
In your honor, this I vow
We’ll step ahead and get to know
From our hearts, knowledge will flow.

The rest of the poem I will omit due to the sensitive content and triggering images. Christopher, who is an older and wise “part” of me, writes the poem. I’m sure it’s not written by the “traditional me,” because I don’t use words like “whilst.” He understands that I want to know what happened to me (the trauma to make me DID). It seems he has help writing the poem. In the section I cut out, he gives me some of the information.

The final two stanzas are:

She is strong she knows such sorrow
From other moons some souls she’ll borrow
We came forth to walk the road
The seeds we planted, never sowed.

I will end this sad sad tale
Sometime soon, we’ll need to wail
But til then we’ll suffer strong
And peace I know will come along.

Blog written by Judi

Does DID exist?

Having said that Judi has DID, we'd better dispose of the idea that DID doesn't exist. If you read enough on the topic, you'll find that some people believe that DID is either a fantasy indulged in by self-absorbed people or something unwittingly taught to patients by doctors. I know a few DID people and have read a fair bit about it and I have no doubt at all that it exists. I've lived with a DID sufferer for about ten years now and have seen the effects over and over again. Either Judi is the best actor the world has ever seen or she has multiple personalities.

Unlike the Monkees, I'm not a believer. I find it hard to believe in anything - I have to see it to believe it and even then I wouldn't call it belief to accept what your eyes tell you, I'd call it knowledge. Given something strange, I'd far rather find a simple explanation than a complicated one. In the case of DID, the simplest explanation is that people can have multiple identities. To understand this, we have to reflect on what a personality is. To me, it's a pattern of behavior exhibited by a person that is repeatable and predictable. As a physicist, I like to think of a personality as being indicative of non-linear dynamics but if that means nothing to you, don't worry. Here's an analogy - in the days of long playing records played by a needle running around in a spiral groove, they used to make trick LPs with multiple but separate grooves. By choosing the starting point at random, you could select an entirely different song, or by nudging the record player, you could skip from one song to another. When DID people get nudged, they can switch personalities. This analogy isn't quite right but it's suggestive.

So why do people not accept the idea of DID? I can think of a number of reasons:

• It's pretty strange - if I haven't lived with Judi, I probably wouldn't have believed it.
  
• Some people have a very straightforward view of how the mind works that doesn't accommodate something as strange as DID. As a long time meditator, I know that my mind is really strange anyway so it doesn't bother me.
• DID is supposed to be caused by the severe and persistent abuse of young children. This is horrible to even contemplate so for some people it's preferable to deny DID.
• For the same reason, some parents or family members implicated even indirectly may wish to deny DID.

So, yes, it exists. As I said, it's the simplest explanation of what Judi and I have experienced.

Tim

Being dissociative or "MY DID"

Sheesh, what to say now? Ever since we started this blog, I have wanted to talk about my DID…. Now that I can… I’ve got BLOGFRIGHT!!!!!

The real problem is that I have too much I want to say. I want to tell you about my DID, but I also want you to know more about DID in general (i.e., How does it start, how long does it last, is it curable, how many people have DID, etc.) I remember when I was diagnosed in 1997, well, some things I remember. For example, I remember not being able to comprehend that I had +/- 60 different parts/alters in my head. I remember going to work and wondering if anyone could see how fragmented I was. I used to be so secretive about the DID – (in little, backward Socorro, NM) that I was convinced if people found out, they would burn me at the stake as if I was a witch.

Most people would not ever know when I was “switched” (i.e., someone else). A lot of my “alters” were regular people who did specialized jobs for when I could not. Stephanie was the professional worker (mostly the Human Resource Manager). I also have various “professional” drivers, so that I am probably a better and more consistent driver than most people on the road (I think I had one parking ticket, but I’m not sure). There are others. You probably recognize some of these “people-types” – you probably have your own set. The difference is one of degree and level of dissociation. Common dissociation is spacing out as you drive down the freeway. Not so common dissociation is spacing out so much that someone else comes out to deal with life, while you’re perhaps hiding in a corner of your own mind.

I hope you are as impressed with my husband as I am. How many men could sit and talk to their 40-something wife (after recent marriage), and still sit and talk to that woman when her seven year old alter comes out. Think about it. Actually, I was probably more freaked out than he was. Tim has been incredible during this entire ordeal. Since he met Patricia, he has chatted with numerous alters of different ages and temperaments. Surely, I would never have made it without his support over the last ten years. As difficult and challenging as it has been, he still has fun watching me (and my little folk) watch “kid” movies. When I was watching the movie, Alaska, about two kids looking for their father in cold country (the father had crashed his plane on a mountain). The kids were adopted by (and adopted) “Cubby” the polar bear cub. Of course, these children got into all sorts of frightening and dangerous situations, during which my little one, “Tanya,” would holler out, “Cubby, save boy!!!” or “Cubby, where girl, go find girl!!” I have to say I’m incredibly cute as a kid.

There’s so much more to say, but I have time.
Judi, et al

Judi's DID

Some of our friends will know that this blog has omitted to say much about one very big thing in our lives - Judi's struggle with Dissociative Identity Disorder. We've kept this private until now but both of us think it's time to be more open.

Judi and I are approaching the tenth anniversary of our first date - April 27, 1997. That night was wonderful and something that we both remember. I also remember well the next date - we drove out into the desert east of Socorro to a waterhole that I knew about. We walked around chatting happily but then it started to get dark and the stars came out. We decided to leave but as we got up to go, Judi told me that she'd had many difficult times in her life. The increasing darkness of the night matched her mood shift. It was a striking moment - too dark to see much of her face but I could hear something unexpected in the tone of her voice.

Shift forward 6 months, and we're married, sitting on the bed in the evening. It's been a wonderful 6 months and we're really happy. There have been some tough times - she occasionally goes into a strange state that I don't recognize - sometimes crying inconsolably. An ice pack on the neck will bring her back. So there we are, talking on the bed about something - but I can't remember what. All of a sudden I realize that Judi's voice has changed, and that she sounds like a young girl. I don't mean that metaphorically - I mean that she really sounds like a young girl. I realized almost immediately that I was talking to another person so I asked her name - she said "Patricia". We had a reasonably long conversation. The key to talking to alters, which is what Patricia is, is to respect them and treat them just like a real person. I did that and she talked. I can't remember much of what we talked about.

Shift forward a few more months, and I'm in a taxi looking out the back window at Judi. She's standing at the window of the in-take office of a hospital in Dallas, watching my taxi drive away. It's a terrible moment. I have to be back in Socorro but she needs to stay there for intense therapy. She's really broken down into fragments - bit and pieces of a person. There are many, many alters, most of whom I have met over the last few months. Meeting an alter is not always as easy as meeting Patricia since some carry huge amounts of rage and anger.

Finally here we are now in Australia. Judi is much, much better. She and I have been through some really tough times together and honestly still expect to have more in the future. I've had one episode of really bad depression since we met but I feel good now. We have a wonderful relationship as we always have had despite our problems.

Judi is still in therapy. She still cannot work and I don't know if she ever will be able to. I hope so since I know that work means a lot to her. It's important to her to feel that she's making a contribution. And she has a lot to contribute.

So that's the story from my perspective but it's mostly up to Judi to tell about it. I'll chime in with my own recollections and thoughts but it's over to her.....

Why Does Everything Want to Kill Me Here??????

Some friends told me about the Blue Ringed Octopus. They said that it can be found in the waters off New South Wales, which made me very nervous since I was frolicking around NSW tidal pools last week, and picked up lots of beautiful shells. I didn't think that reaching down into the water to get shells from the various tidal pools would present a problem - I thought that the terrible "Cone Shell" and "Blue Ringed Octopus" were only found on the northern coasts of Australia. Hopefully, this article I've read is correct and that they really are only found in the northern parts. Ugh! Here's the lowdown of the octopus poison:

Blue Ringed Octopus Poison

DANGER! The blue rings on a blue ringed octopus are only visible when it is about to attack. The blue ringed octopus can cause death to an adult human in minutes. There is no known antidote.

The blue ringed octopus has two poison glands that secrete different types of poison through the saliva. One type is quite mild and is used to paralyze crabs and other prey when hunting for food. The other type is very toxic and is used as a defence against predators, including people.

The blue ringed octopus has a painless bite that is not much more than a scratch. The poison in the blue ringed octopus saliva, however is very strong and can kill an adult human in minutes.

Bites generally occur when a blue ringed octopus has been picked up out of its pool or stepped on so most bites are inflicted on the hands, arms, shoulders and feet.

At first the victim feels nauseous, then there is a loss of sight, touch speech and the ability to swallow. In 3 minutes, the nervous system stops working, paralysis sets in and respiratory failure commences. Without immediate help the victim will die.

Mouth to mouth resusitation and heart massage must be started straight away and continued until professional medical help is reached. There artificial respiration and heart massage will continue unitl the poison can work its way out of the victims system. This usually takes about 24 hours and leaves the victim with no obvious side effects.

Victims are aware of their surroundings throughout their ordeal but are unable to respond in any way. They may appear dead but if aid comes quickly enough, they will survive.

Because the poison is in the saliva, it can be injested through the skin. Some people have reported a tingling in their hands after touching rocks or water recently occupied by the blue ringed octopus.

A friend of mine at the "doggie park" said he loves Australia because it is so DANGEROUS!!! Excuse me? What is he thinking? I suspect he wouldn't be quite so cavalier if it were his kids that found one of these unfriendly creatures.

Hmmmm. I guess I need to find out the typical bite/mortality rate of these charming little critters. :)

Luv Ya, Judi

Random observations from our trip

• It is possible to buy a good bottle of Shiraz for $1.99. I did so in Coff's Harbor. Actually I bought 6 for $11.99. I wish I'd bought more. We're big fans of clean skin wines. Our current favorite is a Shiraz-Viognier that Dan Murphys sell for $6.50 a bottle in a case.
  
• Nimbin is one of the armpits of the world. I'm not particularly opposed to inhaling but this place made me think again - there are a lot of seriously wasted people here.
  
• North NSW is spectacular - well worth visiting. We'll definitely go back.
  
• Southern QLD on the beach has been Californicated. We'll have to route around it next time if we want to go further north.
• You just can't eat too many fish tacos when close to the ocean. Reading this it's ambiguous so let me say it plainly - eat all the tacos you can when close to the sea!
  
• It is possible to survive 12 days without checking your email.

Judi and I had an excellent time on our vacation. Caravaning is ideal for those who like a comfortable bed but also eating outside and seeing the sun rise. It's also cheap - only $20 per night typically for a powered camp site. Also you get to meet interesting people and critters. Our caravan needs a few more comforts - maybe we'll take the coffee machine next time. But we didn't miss the TV although I was shocked to hear that England had finally won something in cricket - the one day international series.

The dogs had fun, I think, though I believe that I managed to exhaust Sammy by all the walking I did. In the end he sort of refused to go with me on a walk, which was a first.

I hope we can go again soon.

Tim

Our Maiden Voyage

This is going to be hard, because I have already forgotten a lot of what we've done. Hmmmm. We were going to try to leave on Saturday, but it became clearer that we wouldn't get organized in time. Even on Sunday, it took a while to get it together - but we finally did and set off around mid-day. It takes some time to set up a camper caravan for a maiden voyage. I had downloaded checklists from the net, so I had some pretty good lists to go by - but even with all my preparation, I still forgot some important items. I also thought that I had forgotten a few items only to find them later tucked efficiently into some nook and cranny in the caravan.

This actually had its advantages, because one thing I forgot (i.e., "thought" I forgot) was my pair of Tevas. I nearly drove Tim crazy searching stores for a replacement pair - they had to be water durable, comfortable, and when I thought Ialso had forgotten my hiking boots, sturdy. The advantage came about when we stopped for lunch in the town of Kempsey. Kempsey does not look particularly prosperous. The first building we walked past after parking the car was the AA meeting place and then there were the Salvos (Salvation Army) type stores and more than its share of cheap variety stores. No one in Kempsey looked healthy and not surprisingly, I think everyone smoked - even the five year olds (kidding). I digress. After a nice lunch of a prawn sandwich on Foccacia bread, we walked back to the car via the main street. Always on the lookout for shoe stores to replace my sandals, I dashed into a small shop. Guess what? I found my shoes! They are fashioned after Keen brand water shoes and marked down to $19.95 from $59.95!! There was one pair left and it was a male shoe (I'm not fussy), but in my size. Wow, what luck. Even Tim was impressed with my find, but I think the shop lady thought I was nuts.

Let me back up. After leaving home on Sunday, we headed up the coast not knowing exactly where were going - we knew we were going north and we knew we wanted to start out by the beach. I had done lots of research on the net for dog friendly caravan parks that offered powered sites (Tim needs electricity to run his cpap machine - it forces air into the mouth for sleep apnea). We REALLY wanted to bring the coffee machine and bread machine... but that would be overdoing it I guess. One park was a comfortable distance for our first day of driving and was rated five paws for dog friendliness. The park's name is Weeroona, and it is located at Manning Point, NSW, which isn't far from Taree. Weeroona Holiday Park turned out to be an excellent choice for our first park stay. We wound our way through rows of aging permanent caravans (and their aging residents) to the back of the park and chose a site near the entrance to the beach.



Twenty five meters on the other side of our site was a small tract of rainforest.... and it turned out to be aptly named.

Our first night at the park was lovely and we had a long walk on the absolutely gorgeous beach. Karma and Sammy had a great time. Sammy would wait for a wave to come in and then before it got to him.... run up the beach to get away - just like a little kid. The next morning we woke up to some nice weather but the skies looked slightly forbidding. Tim is walking a lot to get extra points on his weight watchers diet. He's being incredibly good on this diet -- good food and exercise - go figure. So Tim, the dogs and I went for a long walk on the beach. A looooooonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnggggg way down the beach the skies opened up -- it poured and we had nothing with us - no coats, no hat, no umbrella, no nada. Not too smart. The dogs didn't like it any more that we did so they were using us for shelter. Tim took the hero role and wrapped his body around me to protect me a bit from the wind and rain and to warm me up --- I was sooooo cold. I don't know how long we stayed like that, but I know that I didn't take my eye off the snake that was sharing the beach with us - only meters away. In all my summers as a kid loving vacations on Cape Cod - not once - not once!! - did I ever see a snake on the beach.

Ok OK. Let me start from now and then go back and then forth again. Our current locale is at Corindi Beach Caravan Park. Our site is grassy and overlooks the beach which is about 50 meters down the hill.



The beach goes for miles and miles and miles - beautiful sand, interesting shells, and fun tidal pools.



The surf in front of us is a little too dangerous for swimming, but down the way a bit is a nice beach for swimming and surfing. This is not a patrolled beach since it is far from any major town. The caravan park is dog friendly which is how we happened upon it. Dogs are supposed to be leashed while in the park, but the beach is leash free and the dogs love it. One of the funniest things we saw this trip is Sammy and Karma discovering a crab. You don't see the crabs too often since they usually stay hidden down their holes, but unwary crabs - look out - dogs! It actually wasn't clear who was winning for most of the "contest," but I'll tell you the dogs finally won out. Until that time, Sammy spent his energy barking at the crab and whenever the crab went toward him, he would madly back up - still barking. Karma, a herding dog, decided the way to deal with an ornery crab was to keep running around it - round and round and round. If the crab ran towards him, he would trip over Sammy trying to get out of the way. Unfortunately for our crabby friend, Karma got braver and braver and tried to bite the crab a few times, eventually giving it a good chomp - goodbye crab. Neither dog showed any interest in eating the crab, but I don't think the smell clicked any innate canine yearnings. This whole little dance would have made a great video complete with music... perhaps an opera depicting dueling gentlemen.

Doggie Dootie - so to speak.



Kisses, Judi

Japanese poetry

Long time readers will know that I love Japanese poetry. I just discovered the following....

Tim

To Galston Gorge

I walked to Galston Gorge this morning. It's about 10km of fairly tough walking and took about 3 hours. The paths in this part of Sydney typically go up and down a lot. It's excellent exercise which helps with my new endeavor - to lose weight via Weight Watchers For Men.

Here's the track I made with my new GPS. I finally got one (a Garmin Legend C) that knows about Australia AND can talk to a computer.

Tim