When we were planning to move here various friends wondered whether the climate here would be kinder to my daughter's painful arthritic condition. For me it was a case of "dare to hope, but prepare to be disappointed". Long story, details of which are not very interesting (are other people's medical dramas ever?), but the conclusion is a rather disappointing big, fat, stiff, sore, swollen, debilitating, screaming heap of no.
This week my very brave daughter spent three days and one night at the children's hospital in Perth. My son of course needed to keep attending school and normal life in Mandurah. I've been doing so much driving between Mandurah and Perth that I'm in danger of getting pressure sores. Oh and as is often the way, my partner was away for part of that time; he considered cancelling the trip, but didn't need to as I have finally learned from many years experience that if I actually take up people's kind offers of help then I can do quite tricky things.
Luckily my son has befriended a great boy. Before I met him I asked my son what his friend was like and he replied "As nice as my NZ friends!" - high praise indeed. The boy has an equally great mother and she has been a star this week.
Now my daughter is home and drugs are our friends again. Things are looking up as she a) scoffed her favourite weekend breakfast with gusto this morning and b) can finally make a fist - useful! Hopefully she'll soon be back throwing herself into things without a nasty accompanying sting.
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