Preston Dodds Reid

My paternal grandfather, the wonderful and charismatic Preston Dodds Reid, died today (Australian time), aged 96 years. He will be sorely missed by family and all those that he touched throughout his lifetime. I am very sad at his passing as he was an instrumental part of my life. The family is feeling a certain relief as his last two weeks were not all that comfortable for him. I am once again, feeling rather isolated so far from home. 

Is it OK to have a favourite grandparent? I’m not sure. I was surely blessed with four wonderful grandparents.  I loved Grandma (Reid) for her patience, humour and quiet wisdom. I loved Nanma (Edwards) for her giggling, calming and soothing manner and Scottish lilt that had the effect of calming every person and beast. I loved Kung Kung (Edwards) for his big booming laugh and his twinkly smile under a very stern and proper exterior. I would have loved to meet my maternal grandmother (who died of typhus in rural China when my mother was just seven years old... another story) who, by all accounts, was also a wondrous person. All my grandparents provided the most brilliant role models. All adored their partners and were always calm, kind, open and loving to all family members. Grandpa outlived the rest of my grandparents by at least ten years, so of course, he was there for a greater part of my life. There was something exceptional about Grandpa though. 

My husband Paul asked me some time ago who the heroes in my life were. Grandpa topped the list. It is said that we marry our fathers… in my case, perhaps it was more my grandfather! Generations ensure difference, but each had an interest in similar pursuits. Both gentle souls with a can’t-hurt-a-fly exterior, and with a keen interest and participation in combat sports (Grandpa – boxing, Paul – wrestling). Both with a strong interest in cryptography (Grandpa – with a pen and manual count of letter occurrences, Paul with computer programming). Each with a love to read – voraciously. Each with a phenomenal memory – particularly for detail of long ago occurrences, things read, events, etc. Grandpa loved the horse races. Paul attended these for years (and is still a member of the Queensland Turf Club). Both big fans of drinking coffee (Grandpa developing a taste for the stuff during overseas travel).  Each stubbornly principled, yet willing to hear and contemplate a different perspective. Both honest and open with an ability to express those things that, perhaps, they had not been so proud of during their lives - a rare ability to admit (and learn from) mistakes. Both kind and generous to a fault. Both adoring their soul mate and partner in life. Both with an undying thirst for knowledge. Both an influential part of my life. 

Grandpa had a special place for all his grandchildren and took much more than a passing curiosity in everyone’s likes and interests. He took the time to find out who ABBA was when I was so wrapped in them aged nine. He listened to the music (sitting himself in front of Countdown on a Sunday night) to work out the lyrics. He did the same when my brother Ian had an interest in Billy Bragg. 

Grandpa introduced me to dance and took me to my first ballet performance. Later, when I became a subscriber of the Australian Ballet, Grandpa would brief me on all the performances and give me notable key dance sequences to look out for in the classic ballets. Deciding we needed to witness Gilbert and Sullivan on the stage (even if we didn’t like it), he sent the grandchildren along to see The Gondoliers. Grandpa ensured my interest in art was nurtured, accompanying me to National Gallery of Victoria, passing on some of his notated art catalogues and discussing favourite works and artists. 

I am so glad at Paul’s insistence at using family names for our children. We will remember a little of Grandpa in Luc as he was named Luc Preston after Grandpa - an honour that really pleased Grandpa. Preston was a family name (I believed it was his mother’s maiden name), as was Dodds. Preston has been an uncommon name in Australia, with the only reference I know being the north-eastern Melbourne suburb. However, Preston is a reasonably popular name in the States, with a couple of TV characters having that name (Grey’s Anatomy & Desperate Housewives). Even Britney Spears used the name for her son (much to my chagrin). We have even met a Preston or two in the playgrounds here. Of course there is the character Preston, a robot dog, in Wallace & Gromit’s A Close Shave.

I miss my Grandpa.

Photo: Preston Dodds Reid and Luc Preston Gearon meet for the first time in Melbourne (August 2004)

Visitors - welcome and unwelcome

We have just had the pleasure of being visited by Paul’s sister Lari and her husband Allan. These two took the opportunity of their recent misfortune to see a bit of the world and visit siblings Paul and Rowan (in Houston), while living in the USA. Despite some cooler and rainy weather, we still managed to do a few tourist outings. We visited our favourite tourist sites including Sears Tower (this is Luc’s favourite building), Millennium Park, Michigan Avenue, Lincoln Park Zoo, some very funny improvised theatre, etc. We saw quite a bit of our local Lincoln Park neighbourhood and Lari and Allan were able to do a spot of shopping. Lari and Allan found great delight in some of the things that we now find commonplace but were astounded by when we first arrived: including abundant squirrels, breakfast at a local diner and the large book stores such as Borders and Barnes and Noble. The large bookstores were a very welcome change diversion after limited English book store options in Japan. 

Allan felt completely at home with the American sports (he is a huge basketball, baseball and gridiron / football fan) and the casual dress code. We live near DePaul University and track pants, sports jerseys and trainers are de rigueur. 

Unfortunately, the visit coincided with a visiting flu virus that left us a little lacking in energy and enthusiasm. This last week we ALL have a bout of hand-foot-and-mouth disease – another common virus that has taken the time to visit us (see Paul’s blog entry). Luc had a case of this virus in Brisbane – that generally leaves one immune. A different strain of the virus has seen him contract it again – as well as Paul and myself (adults are usually immune due to contracting this as a child). As a consequence, we have all been laid flat. The boys and myself have been housebound for most of the week – which is just as well as the virus is contagious. I had been speaking to a nurse at the paediatric practice to monitor the situation. Excessive spots on Nic, prompted us to make a visit to the doctors last Friday to have it checked out. After spending some time in the waiting room, playing with toys and doing the rounds, Luc took his time joining us in the examination room. As he was leaving the waiting room, Luc announced to everyone that “I have spots”, repeating this several times in case people weren’t aware of his predicament. I was horrified. Luc’s spots had gone by this stage and I could only imagine that everyone thought he must have some highly contagious disease! 

Photo: Allan and Lari in front of the Crown fountain at Millennium Park

Run, run as fast as you can

While he was at work one day, Paul got in contact with me to say that, oh by–the-way, he had signed me up for an organised 5 mile run. I was a little annoyed at the prospect of this for several reasons: 

 1.   I had no idea how long 5 miles actually was

 2.   When was I going to find the time to train?

 3.   What about some input from myself into these decisions? 

Too bad, he had already paid the money and I was signed up. 

Paul then found out about a nearby running group that I could train with, organised by a sports shop named Fleet Feet. The group was specifically for women and trained on a Tuesday evening. He assured me that it was a very casual group and beginners were welcome. Paul was training with a triathlon group on Tuesday evenings but we were able to get Lisa to babysit one night and I trekked down to participate. I was a little shocked when I found out that there was a choice of a 3 mile 4 mile or 5 mile run. Walking did not seem to be an option. Running with others enabled me to keep a pace and I was surprised to complete a 3 mile run without being overly stretched. This surprised me as the last time I had run was since taking part in the International Womens Day run in Brisbane when newly pregnant with Nicolas. A lack of time, rainy weather and hot weather all provided excuses not to make it back to train. I did however, manage to get out for a few runs by myself. 

August 17th was the night of the run: the Nike Run Hit Remix. Paul hadn’t been feeling too well in the previous week and I would have been happy if he told me he couldn’t do the run (providing me with an excuse to pike). No such luck. We had organised Kate to babysit the boys and caught a taxi downtown.

The run itself didn’t begin until 9pm, so we spent our waiting time checking out the numerous stalls set up to provide runner sustenance (smoothies, after run snacks) and enticement to all athletes and wannabes (sports wear, burgers, ribs and beer!). The event was extremely well organised and had staging locations for people who run a 7 minute mile, 8 minute mile, etc. Not knowing how long it would take to run a mile, we chose the 10 minute mile location to start. We met Chris, one of Paul’s colleagues and some of his friends, who were amongst the 10,000 participants.

Each mile of the run was marked by a performing band. This really added to the atmosphere, and the pace as people altered their stride to the beat of the music. This was particularly noticeable when running under the convention centre with the sounds of a Japanese Taiko drumming band reverberating around the walls at a quickening pace.  A dark underground section was enlivened with lights, flying sparkles and trance tracks. I have never been to a run where everyone was in such great spirits. I have also never been to a run that took place at night and where all participants (over the age of 21) were entitled to a beer at the finish! An office building, in line with the final length of the run, had organised for its windows to spell out a giant ‘RUN!’ providing added incentive to finish.  

I was taken back to my uni days (college) with such performers as Digital Underground and Young MC  and cover bands playing early 90’s tracks. The main attraction was De la Soul playing a concert post-run. It was such an enjoyable experience – we really want to do it again next year. 

Paul completed the Chicago Triathlon on August 27th and is now in training for the Chicago Half Marathon on October 1st.

Photo: Anne and Paul crossing the finishing line. Photo courtesy of Brightroom.com 

September showers

One of Luc’s latest obsessions has been the Wallace and Gromit movies. In particular, The Wrong Trousers. He walks around doing his best goosestep, looking a little like John Cleese’s Minister of Silly Walks, saying he is a ‘pants robot’. We were walking down the street with Luc doing his robot impression one day, when I accidentally bumped into him. I said “I’m sorry darling”. Luc said “No. You say ‘Sorry Robot’”. So I have been referring to him as Robot Pants or Techno Trousers for some time now. Luc became really annoyed when he found that he could not walk up walls like the techno trousers, despite his best efforts (of course, being ex-NASA the trousers have suction cup feet). Paul assists here by holding him and lifting Luc above his head, while Luc walks up the wall. I found a pair of pyjamas in a clearance store with robots on the top. Luc is obsessed with these pyjamas and it takes some effort to get these off him in the morning. He would wear them night and day if he had the choice. 

When I scold Luc or send him to the corner during the week, he whimpers “I want Daaaaadddy!” (because, of course, Paul is not here). One weekend, after we had both scolded him, he surprised us by whimpering “I want David!” I was dumbfounded by this one and couldn’t quite work it out until I realised that he meant David Wood - whom we had recently spent time with in Ohio. 

Nic is now ten months old. He has started to play games now. He is a little obsessed with cars and any toy with wheels and pushes these along making his best impressions of car noises. He loves standing at the window and pushing cars along the window sill (which is very low in our living room and the perfect height for a little guy). Nic is also doing impressions of Luc. It is very funny seeing them in the bath together, with Nic trying to imitate everything that Luc does including: splashing, crawling along the bottom of the bath, clapping, yelling at the top of his lungs… (not so cute). Nic is still a very happy little guy and smiles for the majority of the time. Conversely, he has started noticeably expressing his frustration: - knocking unwanted food items to the ground, yelling for attention, kicking his legs when put down for a sleep or being picked up when he doesn’t want to be. 

We took Luc to a sushi restaurant on Saturday as a reward for his recent exemplary behaviour. I offered him some pickled ginger (which he adores). He pointed to a pile of pickled ginger on a plate and referred to it, with a great big smile, as ‘dog’. I was a little taken aback and really couldn’t work out what this reference was to until I remembered that the dog living across the road from us is named Ginger! 

We attended a street party on Sunday afternoon. This was a great opportunity to meet some of our neighbours, despite being outdoors on a very rainy afternoon. The rain didn’t seem to bother anyone. Following the request to take along food, we decided we would make a Pavlova. Some consternation as to how to ‘dress’ the pav took place but we managed to have a pretty good looking sample to bring. I was about to set it down on the food table when a lady exclaimed “That looks like a Pavlova!” I couldn’t believe anyone would have known what it was. The lady, Donny, had spent some time living in Australia so was well versed in Pavlova. Much to Donny’s insistence that people sample the pav, it went very quickly – and was much appreciated. One lady mentioned that perhaps we should all bring dishes from our homelands next year (planning to bring soda bread from her native Ireland).  We will probably take… a pav!

Photo taken in the ‘Circus’ exhibit of the Museum of Science and Industry 

Half birthday...

Yesterday, the boys reached a significant milestone. Luc is now two and a half and Nicolas is nine months old. Here is a little update of what the boys have been up to. 

The two boys are growing and interacting more and more. Now that our furniture has (finally) arrived and we have a cot (crib) for Nic, the boys are sharing a room. Of course, this can have its drawbacks. Just ask me after I have found every toy, a weeks worth of nappies of all sizes and a full tub of loose nappy wipes accompanying Nic. Of course, Nic does not complain, he sees it all as an adventure (what a great attitude). I wish I shared his enthusiasm while I am changing wet bedding and drying his mattress with a hair dryer because Luc thought he needed a drink from a squirt sports bottle. 

The boys really light up when they see each other. Nic giggles at Luc. When Luc looks at him, Nic burst into gales of laughter. This sets Luc off, making Nic laugh all the more. Much to my annoyance, this generally happens during the middle of a feed (I am still breastfeeding Nic), but who can get angry -  after all, there is no better sound than that of children laughing.

Nic is getting around very quickly – crawling or reverting to a combat crawl when speed is really important. When Luc hears Nic he yells “Nic’s coming! Nic’s coming” and tries to hide from him (with much revealing commotion of course). Luc yells these warnings with the same urgency as one might yell “A tsunami is coming!” 

Luc found that he could hide in a cupboard the other day and was having fun hiding and ‘unhiding’. Nic wanted in on the action and ended up climbing in the cupboard with him. Being in a confined, dark cupboard with a flailing brother did not seem to distress either boy. 

Nic is doing his best impression of Foo or Kilroy – we often see the top of his head and two hands peering over the top of his cot (crib), the couch or any furniture item he can pull himself up against (which is just about EVERYTHING). He has a real determination and is starting to show definite signs of frustration when he can’t climb up. Two days ago we had to rescue Nicolas from the bottom rung of a stool – he had managed to climb onto it and we stopped him before he could pull himself any higher (we were scared). We are dreading the concept of having a ‘climber’ in the family. 

With our stuff arriving, there is a constant case of discovery and rediscovery. Luc found a new item and asked “What’s this Mummy?” I turned to see what he had found and said “That’s daddy’s squash racquet”. “Oh” said Luc, placing it on the floor and pushing the strings into the carpet “Squash, squash, squash”. I explained that squash was a game that Daddy used to play. Luc then picked up the racquet, and like countless children before, started ‘playing’ it like a guitar, singing his version of a song (a lot of garble peppered with words, such as Buzz, Nic, Luc, Bus, Plane… whatever happened to be the focus of attention at the moment).

Luc had a full on tantrum one day when we returned home, despite saying he wanted to go home ALL morning. I said “We are home”. Luc said “I don’t want to go home” “Where DO you want to go then?” through tears of rage “I want to fly to Pittsburgh!”

Photo is our reflection in Cloud Gate in Millennium Park taken when we visited on Wednesday

Urgent Care

It was early April and Luc had a cough that was lingering. He had had a bad case of croup. We had an appointment with a paediatrician, and were not too worried, but wanted him checked out a little sooner as his cough appeared to be getting worse. A visit to see a GP was what I had in mind. I rang the paediatrician's office to find out if we could get an appointment any sooner. They nonchalantly told me to “just go to the emergency department” of the Children’s Memorial Hospital. Our health insurance had just commenced, the hospital is a couple of blocks from where we live, so we made the trek to the emergency department. 

When in Brisbane, we had taken Luc to the emergency department of the Wesley Hospital (a private hospital) on a Sunday afternoon with a suspected case of conjunctivitis. They were very careful to let us know how much it would cost to see a doctor - $130, upon which we could seek a refund from our insurer. This seemed expensive at the time, but were prepared to spend the money (particularly as it was approaching dinner-time and we couldn’t bear the thought of trying to find a medical clinic and wait around with a tired boy). 

After a wait of about 45 minutes or so in the Emergency department of the Children’s Memorial, the triage nurse looked at Luc. She took his oxygen levels and other vital measurements. She then sent us along to ‘Urgent Care’. This was when I really started to worry. I thought perhaps that we had been a little too blasé about Luc’s condition. Urgent Care! Was he to be admitted? Did he have pneumonia? It wasn’t until we arrived in Urgent Care, that I realised that this was actually a ‘step down’ from Emergency, rather than a case being considered even more urgent than an emergency! Urgent Care is for cases requiring minimal intervention. 

While we were waiting to see an attending doctor in Urgent Care, I gave our insurance details and signed some paperwork. No mention of a fee was for service was made. Luc was checked out by both a nurse and then a doctor. The staff were really lovely and thorough… Luc was given a clean bill of health and we were on our way.    

Several weeks later we received a bill for service. A cool $328, of which $146.17 was covered by medical insurance, leaving us to pay the remaining $181.83. I couldn’t believe it. Then a week later, we received a bill for $85.45 being for the doctor’s time. I was really annoyed as there was no mention at all of any gap payments to be made. 

I was really homesick for our lovely Dr Tim (Davidson) at Red Hill Medical Centre, whom we would have been able to see with perhaps a day’s notice (or another doctor probably that day), and it would have cost us $45 at the most (the majority of which would have been refunded by Medicare).

Recently, Paul went to see a doctor about a stomach complaint. It took him some time to find a doctor (as the doctor has to be recognised by the health insurance provider). He rang several practices before he was able to get an appointment. The appointment itself was affordable (a $20 gap payment). But then he was out-of-pocket $110 for prescribed medication (insurance covered the remaining $93.78). We have started to realise what a significant financial investment it is to stay healthy in this country!

Did I mention that our contribution to private health care is some $300 per month (while Paul’s employer pays 80% of the cost of cover). It would appear that quality health care is totally out of reach for those on a modest income without employer support. 

Gabrielle, an Australian friend, told me it cost them $15,000 a piece to have each of their children here! Of this, up to 80% may be reimbursed, but one needs the money to pay up front. 

Paul had another horror story to tell me. A colleague of his took his child to a emergency department of a hospital. The hospital and doctor were both recognised by the health care provider. Tests were done and samples sent to a pathologist for testing. The pathologist was not covered. Paul’s colleague was faced with a $1500 bill for testing a simple virus (one would think it had been Ebola at that price!) 

I cannot comprehend why the Australian government seems hell-bent on emulating the health system here.

How did I become a mum?

How did I end up becoming a mother? It was a question that I pondered until my reverie was broken whilst having a little quiet time, competing for the toilet paper with an eight month old and trying my best to avoid repeated requests to provide voices for each member of a family of four play dough balls. 

This introspection was brought about by some extremely upsetting news delivered to us on Sunday evening. My sister-in-law Lari and her husband Allan were due to welcome their first child into the world next week. A freak of nature (that only ever happens to other families) occurred, namely the rupturing of the placenta. Baby Payton died and Lari became very sick. Lari is in hospital now, several blood transfusions and operations later. The whole family is in shock and disbelief. Everyone has asked “Why?” Surely this sort of thing just doesn’t happen anymore in a modern world of medicine and health care. Apparently stillbirths now occur in about one in 200 of all pregnancies – this rate has declined by 50% in the last 20 years. In Australia, the rate of stillborn babies is approximately 1750 per year - or in one in one hundred babies. These rates are far higher than I ever thought they would be – but help put a bit of perspective on the situation… if not answering ‘why this baby?’ 

When I think of all friends and family members that have spent months and even years trying to fall pregnant, those that have had one or multiple miscarriages, a couple of people who have lost one or more very young babies and even a friend with a three-year-old currently going through chemotherapy for leukaemia… it makes life appear all the more tenuous and fragile. I have been giving the boys extra hugs the last few days. 

Poor Lari and Allan had to deal with all the initial shock and trauma themselves as they live in Japan, away from family. Paul’s mother Naureen arrived to help on Tuesday and she will be followed by Allan’s mother. The news made us seem all that more isolated ourselves. 

Lari and Allan are in an extremely strong position as they are a very devoted and strong couple with a synergy of thought and expectation. I am positive that they are in the best position to overcome this appalling time in their lives and be able to live beyond, yet hold a special place for their darling little boy. 

Motherhood on a different note… On Saturday, we made a visit to Millennium Park to play in the Crown Fountain for a while. Luc and I returned from playing to find that Nic had his own harem of four young girls cuddling him and playing games with him. He looked very happy. Luc wanted to play as well, so the little girls played ring-a-ring-a-rosy with him. 

I wondered if the girls were related. I asked the lady looking after them. She said, Yes, they were all sisters and were all her children. I asked her how many children she had. She said “Ten. Five boys and five girls” I looked at her in disbelief and exclaimed “How old are you?!” “Thirty-four” “My God! When did you start? When you were twelve?!” “Yes, as a matter of fact, I was twelve”. This mum was the coolest person, very calm and phlegmatic. She had five of her children with her, all their snacks, drinks, selection of toys, arm chairs, towels, etc. etc. and was even able to include and entertain our children. Her children were polite, well-behaved and very good natured. She rocked! I asked her how on earth she managed as I tended to find it hard to keep just two children in check. She said that it could be really hard, but she seemed to have such a great attitude that it looked as if it came easy to her. Given her early start into motherhood, we could only imagine the hardships she had faced and the total lack of education and opportunities she had dealt with.