The rain had returned and we were in for another wet and miserable day. It was not a good start. The fluid had built up dramatically and I was in considerable discomfort, which didn‘t help either. This is happening so regularly and quickly that it is wearing me out. I barely recover from one session before I have another to face. Something will have to give shortly.

The radiologist had difficulty inserting the tube and the procedure was painful and lengthy. The scar tissue has really built up, I was informed. I hope I don’t have to look forward to this added complication from now on. Once the tube was finally installed I couldn‘t turn the tap off, which soon became problematic. By the time I arrived at the hospital the bag was ready to burst. Last week we couldn’t get it to flow, and this week it wouldn’t stop. My circumstances seem to lurch from one extreme to the next.

It was dark by the time I got home and it was a relief to have the procedure behind me, even if it only lasts for a few days. Next week, in Sydney, will be another story and that could be really challenging. I will just have to cross my fingers and hope for the best.

So the Americans had to shoot a few protesters in Iraq. Self defence it was called, but then I suppose they had to justify themselves somehow. We never hear of Americans being shot in demonstrations in America do we? Are Iraqis expendable?

Thursday May 1st

The Bangalow Writer’s group was having its monthly meeting but I had been asked to attend an interview at Bay FM Radio to publicise the Balinese Mask Dance and so had to miss out. I didn’t have any writing to share, not having done any over the last month, so it wasn‘t such a hard decision to make. The interviewer, Karena, knew her stuff, and was very professional, so the ten minutes passed quickly. We were even complimented on the interview by one of the radio bigwigs as I left.

At midday I had another acupuncture session. I can’t say whether the procedure is of any help or not, even though Yves assures me that it has made quite a difference. I am not sure whether the improvement would have occurred naturally as the body recovers from the chemotherapy cycle, but I‘ll give him the benefit of the doubt. I need all the help I can get as I am not feeling at all well. I don’t know how much more of this I can endure.

The Indonesian boys were to play in the interval on Saturday night, but after a misunderstanding, have decided not to go ahead. I think they made the right decision. They had been preparing an electric guitar routine which was actually very impressive and not the least bit loud or intrusive. Unfortunately one of the committee members had this idea in her head that they should be playing something acoustic, and wasn‘t open to any other suggestions. They could hardly change their routine at the last minute and why should they? Indonesian music has reached the twenty-first century, it doesn’t all have to be gamelan to be traditional.

Wednesday 30th April

Today was just not a good day. I felt wretched and just didn‘t seem able to shake the gloom away. I had no inclination to do anything and then wanted to eat but found that there was nothing that appealed. I even cooked up some macaroni, had one bite and threw the whole bowlful into the rubbish. It was a little frightening, because I feel that eating is important. I have lost quite a lot of weight as it is and don’t want to look any more gaunt.

I am starting to prepare for my Sydney trip at the weekend. I will be attending classes for ten days with a Chinese Chi Gung master. I feel that desperate times require desperate measures, and things are not going particularly well at present. The train ticket has been bought and I have checked web sites for backpacker hostels. I need a change of scenery and routine so the trip should be therapeutic. When the fluid builds up I will have to front up at one of the city‘s many hospitals. Hopefully it won’t be a problem.

I walked to the beach for the first time in more than two weeks but had forgotten to dress myself warmly. The wind was cool and strong, so I sat near the dunes for a few minutes and then returned home. I doubt whether I would have had the energy to walk for very far, even had I been more appropriately dressed, as I was quite breathless just getting to the dunes.

I have been experiencing considerable difficulty uploading my web journal. Dodo, my server, is advertising madly again and whenever they do this, the quality of their service deteriorates. I prepare my page offline, but have experimented with various times of the day, hoping to identify a quieter period. So far I have met with little success but will try early in the morning as a last resort. This is the time I usually reserve for my writing, as I am at my freshest, but there is probably little alternative. Besides, I have hardly been doing much creative work recently.

It was the last Byron loves Bali meeting before this weekend’s performance, so there were lots of last minute things that required organising. Everything seemed on track, and the publicity wheel does seem to be rolling.

Tuesday 29th April

A sunny clear day, and what a pleasant change it was. I abandoned my socks and cardigan and felt instantly better. As I drove Yana to his music practice at the twins’ house I noticed a fewer older cars parked in driveways with all their doors wide open. We were not alone in having a car that leaked it would seem. Once I returned home, I opened up our car to the drying rays of the sun.

I had always thought that I would like a good catastrophe, that it would provide excitement and adventure, but after last night I realised how wrong I was. I had coped very badly and had not been in a good humour. Yana was the one who kept smiling and the grin never left his face, and that was even when he had been standing out in the cold pouring rain. I apparently quite like normality, with everything functioning properly. Somewhere along the track I must have become one of those boring types.

There was a Poetry Release at the community centre in the early evening, and I had half intended to go. A few poets in the community had banded together to publish their works about Byron and I was keen to hear them. The oysters would have been nice too, but I was still drowsy from my acupuncture session and rationalised that a quiet evening might be more appropriate than standing around pretending to be sociable.

Monday 28th April

The day was bleak with heavy rain right from early morning. It depressed me greatly, I just wanted to feel the sun on my body and be able to go for a walk. Both Yana and Tess were at work and I felt my loneliness become stronger and stronger as the hours passed. Even lots of sleep didn’t take the edge off my moroseness.

I was quite happy to be summoned by Yana at around nine thirty to collect him from work. I drove into town without thinking much about it, after all, I had done so once or twice a day for months and months. There were some huge puddles in dips along the road but nothing serious. At the main roundabout half the road was underwater, as was quite a portion of the road towards Jonson street, so I took the other road. Once I was in the main shopping area my tyres were half under water as I slowly made my way through the flooded streets. I was frightened, the windows were fogging up, and the rain continued to pour relentlessly. I found Yana who had to paddle through ankle deep water to get to the car and then continued to drive cautiously in the direction home.

Before I noticed it, the car suddenly stalled, and I was really panicked by this stage. The whole area was under a sea of water, and I could see other cars stranded in various spots, obviously having succumbed to water in some vital part. We had now joined them. The car refused to restart so Yana got out and started pushing. All this was happening outside the Great Northern Hotel and a number of their inebriated clientele were outside watching the proceedings with particular interest. Some weathered the rain to assist Yana and we were ushered to the protection of the covered driveway of the bottleshop. Yana then fiddled with various things under the bonnet while we prayed for a lull in the downpour so that the drains could start functioning appropriately.

I feared that we would never get home, and I was so longing for my bed. I realised that we could always spend a night in a backpacker or hotel, it wasn’t necessarily all that grim but I was concerned that Tess may have been worried about us. The nearest telephone booth was some distance away and I was reluctant to step outside.

About an hour later, the rain had eased and Yana had managed to restart the engine so we cautiously made our way home. Fortunately the floodwaters had subsided considerably and the drive home was uneventful. At home Tess was asleep and had obviously been unperturbed by our slow reappearance. I snuggled into my bed with particular relish.

Sunday 27th April

Yana was keen and ready to install his newly acquired second hand radiator and set about to remove the old one. I wasn’t sure of his skill but he seemed very confident. After not too much effort he managed to put it in although he ended up with a piece of rubber that should have gone somewhere, and a screw that was broken and hence not replaced. As a consequence the radiator hung by the hose and one screw. I didn’t think that this sounded all that good but he seemed unperturbed.

Judy came around a little later and invited us to an Indonesian get together in Lismore. Yana was keen to go as long as he could drive, and in his car. I was not so convinced as to the wisdom of this move but went along as I tend to do. Not far along the road I heard a shaking vibrating sound that got louder and louder. I was not impressed and feared for the worst. Yana pretended not to be concerned although I did notice he was straining his ear to work out where the sound was coming from. We made it to our destination although the sound had continued throughout.

Malia, a middleaged Indonesian woman who had been living in Australia for many years was celebrating her recent birthday and her university graduation. A cluster of Indonesian postgraduate students were in attendance, as were a couple from Bangladesh and an English Muslim family from Federal. The food was delicious, although I battled with some very hot little fish that almost bought tears to my eyes. I greatly enjoyed the hospitality that Indonesians are more than ready to offer and was more than happy to have my routine broken once again.

On the way home the vibrating rattle was conspicuous by its absence which probably alarmed me even more. I will insist that Yana does something about it as soon as possible. The car is old, smells of oil leaks and has a series of sounds with which I have become comfortable but I am not sure that I am prepared to broaden its repertoire.

Saturday 26th April

I wasn’t in the mood for anything, and was quite prepared to while away the hours doing very little. The Weekend Australian amused me for a while and then I had to drive Yana into a meeting for Bay FM community radio presenters. Fortunately he hadn’t been in the mood for garage sales, or perhaps he had forgotten. .

By the afternoon I was so exhausted that I had to sleep for hours and hours. I suspected that the day would be uneventful and was happy to accept it as such. Yana had initially hoped to go to Lismore to a moto x bike meet but to his considerable disappointment it had been cancelled because the grounds were too wet. He was at a bit of a loose end and moped around somewhat disconsolately, particularly as he had organised to have the whole day off.

In some desperation Yana suggested, together with Tessie, we go out for a meal somewhere. I was agreeable, as eating someone else’s cooking appealed greatly, my own culinary efforts having been depressingly inadequate recently. Tess suggested the Lennox Head Pub and so off we headed into the inky darkness with some enthusiasm. We couldn’t see the sea, but enjoyed a good meal, and I was pleased at the break in routine that the trip afforded. I was even able to stay awake to watch an early Tom Hanks move on our return.

Friday 25th April

It was a wet miserable Anzac day. I’d always enjoyed explaining to my students in the past about the gross ineptitude that had resulted in the unnecessary deaths of so many people. I had stressed the fact that we had learnt a big lesson and the day was one for us to remember the futility of war. Needless to say a few weeks ago we had very quickly forgotten … again.

It was with particular annoyance that I heard little Johnny’s comment that we had to respect the veterans and let them have their day. I do respect them, immensely so, but weren’t the country’s leaders missing the point. They had totally ignored the lives that had been lost in the past and the whole spirit of ‘Lest we Forget’ and then had the audacity to wag their fingers and say don’t demonstrate on Anzac Day. I was almost lost for words and continue to be ashamed of my country.

Sammie left for Newcastle today. Her departure left a very empty spot as it had been lovely to have her back. She was just as reluctant to go, having decided that Byron Bay was a much better place to live than her newly adopted home. She vowed that she wouldn‘t be living down south for long if she could help matters. Time will tell.

I arrived in Byron on Anzac Day last year and so have now spent a full year in this town. It has been a mixed time and I still have ambivalent attitudes to the area. I can rationalise its attractions and benefits but my heart still aches for Bandung. I wonder whether this will ever change.

Thursday 24th April

The downpours continue. My doctor joked that the rain was necessary to flush all the visitors out. He said that they won't leave otherwise. He could well be right, because the chaos continues. It is school holidays and with Anzac Day falling on a Friday people must be treating themselves to a long break. I would have thought that there could be drier places to while away some hours other than Byron Bay, but apparently not, if the crowds are any guide.

I quickly finished some supplementary articles for the local newspapers to promote our Byron loves Bali performance which will take place in ten days time. I was disappointed to see that my main feature article had been printed but severely truncated to the point where it was just a paragraph and people would have no idea where to buy tickets. I now fear that my other articles, which were very brief, may be overlooked altogether.

I went for a draining session, even though it was only seven days since I had been last drained. (There goes my Bali trip.) The drain was placed without too much trauma, but the actual process was not proceeding as it should. By eight in the evening, I had lost less than three litres, and my stomach was still inflated. I reasoned that I would probably have to return on Monday and we would have to start anew. Perhaps the drain had been inappropriately placed, or the fibrous tissue had built up excessively, afterall I have undergone this procedure many, many times.

The nurses cut the tube, a vital step before removing it, and then all of a sudden the fluid started pouring. The nurses grabbed some jugs and we emptied five litres within an hour. In the preceding seven hours virtually nothing had happened! Maureen, a lovely old lady in the neighbouring bed was simply staggered at the amount of fluid that emerged. Needless to say it was very late by the time I had picked up Yana and returned home. Fortunately the day had ended up better than I was beginning to think it would.

It was a hectic day for me, I barely stopped, and with the fluid building up rapidly I was constantly out of breath. Even the shortest task left me gasping. Yana needed to go to Ballina to return some things that he had just purchased and I went along quite willingly. It was good to get out of the house and with the continuing bad weather it has been impossible to even contemplate going for a walk.

Byron Bay was no quieter, in fact it may even have been worse. Yana was called in to work lunch when it was apparent that Hendra was not going to be able to cope on his own. I was held up in the traffic just trying to enter the town and in desperation Yana had to jump from the car and run to work. It was simply a whole lot quicker than driving.

With some horror I heard that everyone had stood at the Blues Festival as there was limited seating. If you did sit then you couldn't see anything. Sammie had said that she was exhausted after five or six hours. I could barely have lasted half an hour under those conditions and was very pleased that I hadn't forked out ninety dollars for a ticket to simply stand around. Apparently f it had been dry people may have been able to sit down on the ground, but from what I have gathered as it has poured over Easter for the last ten years, this opportunity rarely presents itself.

Tuesday 22nd April

The Blues Festival was over and I rather naively expected that everything would be back to normal. Surely all visitors would miraculously depart in the stealth of the night. How wrong could I be? The town was madness, with traffic jams everywhere and parking nonexistent. The streets were full of people even though the weather was atrocious. Torrential downpours descended at regular intervals and it was a day to settle down cosily to a good book.

Yana was flat out at work which made sense. People must have found themselves with time on their hands and relaxing over a meal was a logical activity. Both cooks were working, which rarely happens, one is usually enough, and things were still out of control. The four tables were full to overflowing and people were sitting down on the ground or eating standing up. What’s more the customers kept coming and there was no quiet lull, midafternoon.

I went for a brief acupuncture session as Yves wants to give me a burst of shorter sessions. I can‘t say that I am feeling any benefit as yet, but perhaps it is early days yet. Besides my condition is very serious so I also need to be realistic. I don‘t have a lot of options open and have to be open to anything. I really do suspect my time is running out.

Monday 21st April

Yana informed at me at seven that he had to man the gates at the Byron market from eight to ten in the morning. Well that was unexpected. I dutifully, as always, drove him off so he could perform his work. Two hours later I went to collect him but his replacement hadn‘t arrived as yet. He was starved and so I relieved him temporarily and took over the bucket. I called out for donations for Bay FM Radio with a professional flourish. Two good friends arrived and they were amazed that I was serving the community so selflessly. I decided not to enlighten them with the reality that I had barely been standing there for five minutes. Why should I spoil their perceptions?

As the morning progressed the weather gave up any attempt at decency and behaved appallingly. It is the last day of the Blues Festival and I’m sure that most people will probably have had their fill. I certainly have, as the traffic was backed up for kilometres today. Poor old Sam and Rachel had tickets for the day and I hope they weren’t too inconvenienced by the mud, slosh and cold.

Tess and Yana went off to Ballina and indulged in their favourite passtime … shopping, while I settled down to a pleasant nap. I was surprised to hear that a number of shops were open and had warned them that they may be disappointed. They are both incorrigible and I wonder whether the fact that they both have birthdays on the 17th September explains their tendencies. Or is it just coincidental?

Sunday 20thApril

Rachel gave us a phone call in the morning but was very vague about when she would be catching up with Sam. She seemed to be cheerful enough and would just ‘chill out’ a while longer. Needless to say Sam was not impressed, and neither was I. All it had needed was a phonecall, but quite a few hours earlier. If she felt like doing her own thing, fine, but she should have just said. Sam had missed the chance of catching up with old friends while she rushed about trying to find a friend who may or may not have been that lost. Sometimes being too responsible ends up being a liability and it just doesn’t seem right.

The weather was still very variable. I was telling myself that it had more or less held for the holiday period and was tolerable when we were subjected to a very long solid downpour. I should have kept my mouth shut. The rain didn’t disturb me as I stayed inside most of the day boiling my chinese herbs in a very flash ceramic pot.

I am reading a fascinating book by Ahdaf Soueif called The map of Love. It is quite political and covers in quite some depth the events in the early 1900’s in Egypt. The English were behaving abominably and causing all sorts of difficulties. Nothing has changed, people are out for themselves and don‘t think of the needs of the ordinary people. Nothing ever changes it would seem.

Sam, Rachel and I went to see the movie ‘The hours’ with Nicole Kidman. I enjoyed it but it was a demanding film. Sam was less convinced of its merits. We all agreed that the characters were terribly morose. There didn’t seem to be a cheerful soul among them. After the film Tess joined us and we had a meal in the Piggery restaurant. The atmosphere was great with all the glass, exposed timbers and alcoves. For once it was quite full, as it can be quite deserted sometimes. I had some dahl with pickles and Indian bread and enjoyed the night immensely.

Saturday 19th April

Yana was working late afternoon and so wanted to go to Ballina. I felt like getting away as I spend so much of my time indoors these days, and didn‘t mind at all. He bought a radiator at the wreckers, this being the next thing on the list for the car, and then went to his favourite shopping haunts. I was horrified at the sight of a completely full Coles/Kmart carpark and stayed in the car reading the Weekend Australian. When he returned he told me that it had been bedlam inside and people where wheeling round trolleys that were overflowing with chocolate.

By the time I went shopping in Byron, at around five, I discovered that there were no easter eggs left. Leaving things to the last minute is obviously not a very clever thing to do. I panicked and then scouted around all the aisles of the supermarket for anything that was vaguely chocolatey. I found some boxes with miniature Milky Ways, Snickers, Mars and grabbed a few. They would just have to do.

The three girls went out that night and then my two became separated from the visiting Rachel. Sam then spent hours trying to find her and then came home in quite a state. She worried for hours, as did I, with visions of mauled bodied easily coming to the fore. Nothing was heard, even though Sam was certain she knew the address and phone number.

Friday 18th April

I woke up to a horrendous dream in which a punch drunk America was flexing its muscles all over the globe. Syria was attacked and then Iran, and it was all in the name of liberation and democracy. I tried to return to soothing, pleasant places but was constantly returned to the spectre of a country that was hell bent on exploiting its superiority. It was all very frightening.

I went to off to acupuncture late afternoon, and returned home many hours later. Yves is very determined to help me, and I‘d be stupid to stand in his way. He is even liaising with colleagues in America and China. I need all the help I can get my hands on. The needles are painful at times, I will be honest, but I can cope. I even suspect that there is more feeling in my feet then there has been for quite some time. It would be good it there is an improvement, because I trip so often. It is only a matter of time before I fall and actually hurt myself.

When I returned home, Sam was waiting impatiently for me. It was great to see her again, after almost a three month absence. She had brought a friend, Rachel with her, and we all chatted cosily for a some hours. It was as though she hadn‘t left, we just picked up the threads where we had left them.

Thursday 17th April

It rained and rained last night. I was trying to find a good night’s sleep, with very little success, as the fluid had built up quite alarmingly. Ultimately I slept on the couch as it is a little more forgiving than our firm little mattress on the bedroom floor. The car had flooded again which worried Yana considerably, as we now have a wonderful car with magnificent tyres that idles majestically but may soon rust right through its base. It seems as though you can‘t win some times.

The draining went quite smoothly, although my appointment was quite a bit later than usual. This put the whole afternoon behind schedule and I didn‘t get around to leaving the hospital till after six-thirty. Yana had kept me company for most of the afternoon and we watched a motley collection of television programs. I had brought a good book with me, but was more than happy to do very little, and not even get around to opening it. The procedure always exhausts me.

The Blues Festival has well and truly started. The rain had more or less stayed away and the cars were lining the edge of the road for kilometre after kilometre. I was well pleased to see that it was being well patronised although it is not a cheap event to attend. Tickets start at eighty dollars a day, and I gather food and drink inside the grounds are exorbitantly expensive. Yana said town was bustling and both he and Hendra worked flat out cooking last night. I didn‘t mention that the rush had only just begun, he‘ll find that out for himself.

Wednesday 16th April

Donald Rumsfeld is telling the American people that the looting in Iraq is exaggerated. It really is only sporadic, and hardly worth worrying about. Could be true, for the present, we don’t know for certain. The fact that he is under-rating the episode makes me a little suspicious though. He has a vested interest in protecting America’s image as a liberator. Similarly I was intrigued to see a wide view photo, in our local newspaper, of the toppling of Saddam Hussein‘s statue, and apparently there were barely a hundred people there. Yet on the western news channels they made it look as though there were thousands. We have to be alert alright, I grant you that John Howard, but in relation to the garbage that people in power are trying to feed us.

Our landlords are still keen to sell our unit. I had hoped that they had lost interest, and we would be able to live unfettered by house inspections and intrusions, but this is not to be. They have taken on new a new real estate firm and are hoping to revitalise the proceedings. In preparation for the new assault, five carbon copy agents descended upon our humble abode yesterday. I could barely keep a straight face, they were identical from the chubby bodies right down to the tie. I forgot their names milliseconds after being introduced and why should I remember them, they were but one person surely.

Byron Bay is no longer a quiet little place. The streets are blocked, parking is diabolical, and madness prevails. At least it is only for a few days. If I hold my breath it will soon be over. The camping grounds are filling up and I noticed that most are prepared for inclement weather. Large tarpaulins have been erected above tents and I spotted one dedicated group sitting outside, all rugged up in thick jackets with cans in their hands. I doubt whether they were drinking sprite.

Tuesday 15th April

Yana woke up very early and set to work on his car, as he had bought carburettor cleaning spray and a new ignition switch. He had been very keen to make a start earlier, but to his great irritation, had ended up working all day yesterday. After a few hours effort the engine sounded better and seemed to have remembered how to idle. Since we were on a roll we decided that we might visit the tyre place in Byron, and emerged not much later with four new tyres. We had been talking and talking about buying them but had never quite got round to it. Meanwhile as there wasn‘t a great deal of tread left we were exposing ourselves to the risk of being given a fine for bald tyres had we been caught. We drove off feeling relieved and very pleased with ourselves.

The fluid has built up really quickly, and in only a week this time. I was very upset. All I want is a bit of reprieve so that I can go to Bali, its not that I am asking for much, but no, no, I can‘t even get that. Sometimes I get very disillusioned. Everything I would like to do or achieve is smashed in my hands. I sometimes wonder why I keep battling , I know that things are doomed, it is more than obvious, but I stupidly refuse to see the inevitable. Even eating is a problem at present. Nothing appeals and many things actually make me retch, so what can I do? Fortunately there are only four of the chemotherapy tablets left. Just four more days.

Mr Ruddock has offered Iraqis in Australia on temporary visas money to return to their country. I was beside myself with anger. Iraqis on the news report that there is no electricity, no water and no hospitals. Shops and businesses have been looted and so there will be a lot of owners who will return to their workplace to find that their livelihoods have disappeared. The country is a shambles, thanks to us, and we are no shoving them back. I cannot believe the depths to which that horrendous man sinks. And they said Saddam Hussein caused suffering.

Monday 14th April

The canine visitors to our house continue. Monkey has introduced some of her friends, little Angel, a short legged plump little Foxie and the black poodle from across the road. They come on their own, in pairs and occasionally as a trio. Angel is the cheekiest. She barks at the door, races into the room and then divebombs the couch. All the while her little tail is gyrating wildly like an uncontrolled rudder. She looks more like a rat than an angel, but is cute in her own unique way. Monkey is quite reserved and shy in comparison. I suspect that she may even be harbouring doubts as to the wisdom of having introduced her mates to us.

I spent today enjoying Tim Winton‘s book ‘Cloudstreet‘. It is very Australian, and quite a treat, once I got past the initial few pages. He is a talented writer and has the ability to describe things in such a way that you can see them so clearly right before your eyes. I am trying to convince myself that there is something special about our life here, the lazy hot summers, the open spaces and the laidback humour. Tim obviously thinks so. Why do I find it hard to be fully convinced?

The mosquitoes are everywhere at present. My body is covered with bites, nice big itchy ones. And my ears… they are driving me mad, the wretched insects even got round to attacking them. Would they have got much blood from my ears?

Sunday 13th April

Our car is being a bit awkward of late. Not that it has given up functioning altogether, it just cuts out whenever we slow down. This can be hair-raising at roundabouts, going round corners and at intersections. If Yana is to do his driver‘s test we need to sort out the problem, as he can hardly pump the accelerator every time he has to slow down. I doubt whether the examiner would be overly impressed. Heaven knows he has been picky with everything else.

Yana has been spending an inordinate amount of time looking under the bonnet, and consulting his Ford Laser manual. He feels the culprit could be the carburettor, and then again it could be various other parts of which he only knows the Indonesian names. Hopefully he is right. Meanwhile he has just upped the timing so we are probably using a lot of extra petrol, but at least we don‘t have to panic about stalling with traffic all around us.

I continued the day in sleep mode. I was even able to relax and admit that yes, I might be wasting valuable time, but if all I could do was lie down then I had to accept this, and try to enjoy it. It wasn‘t at all unpleasant napping with the ABC‘s Arts Sunday afternoon program in the background. Quite nice really.

Saturday 12th April

Yet another garage sale at our house in Suffolk Park. We still had stuff left over from the previous sale, plus a good variety of recently donated goods. A good number of people came and we managed to raise a further two hundred dollars. Unfortunately we still have quite a number of things left, but Yana and I draw the line at yet another sale at our house. I do feel that the location has been exploited to its logical limits.

One fellow arrived with two gorgeous little Eurasian youngsters. He had just moved from Mindanao, saying that life was becoming untenable in that part of the Philippines. After having lived abroad for many years he was now having to start afresh. Then again Yana and I know all about this and garage sales are a wonderful way to furnish a house.

The exertion of setting out goods for display was too much for me and I virtually had to sleep for the remainder of the day. I was amazed that I still was able to sleep at night. After all that napping I would have thought that the desire for further sleep ,would have been quenched, but apparently not.

Friday 11th April

A drizzly day, grey and verging on miserable. I was not daunted as I had promised myself an uninterrupted day at the computer. To some degree I succeeded but then again I don’t set my standards very high. It was quite nice to know that there was no chance of going for a walk and so I didn‘t have to feel lazy or guilty.

I popped into Byron at the end of the day to rescue Yana from the work face. As I wandered past the Great Northern Hotel I noticed the most massive dog, a spotted Great Dane type. The owner was seated inside the pub, having a drink, while the dog, on a long leash, was standing patiently outside. He seemed to be a very placid beast, which was just as well. He was bigger than a good number of the small ponies we owned when my girls were little. He absolutely fascinated me.

They organisers are staring to prepare for the Easter Blues Festival. Each time we pass the grounds yet another tent framework is cloaked with a covering . They actually started some time ago which surprised me immensely. I should have realised that such a big event required a huge amount of work before even one note of music was emitted.

Thursday 10th April

With a concerted effort I applied myself to my web journal, and updated the entries. Sometimes the days pass so quickly, that I fear it will get away from me. It‘s not as though I am really busy but I do get very tired. At present I am doing a lot of television watching again, something I haven‘t done for a while. It is just so easy to lie on the couch and watch the little screen.

So the Americans feel that the war is over. The paper is full of smug letters and our little Johnny is trying hard to keep his gloating under control. They may have overpowered the Iraqis but it still does not make their action right. One pedantic letter writer said that only a small number of Iraqi civilians had been killed and hence the attack was justified. I wonder whether the families of those who lost members would agree with him. I’m not so sure that they would. And now apparently Syria and Iran now need to be careful, America has issued warnings to them. Many of us have known all along that matters will not end with Iraq.

I went for a belated walk to Main Beach because I was a little early for Yana. I had intended to walk along the beach but found that I just didn‘t have the energy. I found myself a nice patch of grass and just observed the action. It is less windy here than at Suffolk Beach, and so probably more conducive to swimming. A number of people were body surfing directly in front of me and were doing so quite successfully. Some surf board riders were clustered together further to the left. Around me one man was writing something, possibly a journal, a young couple were playing their baby and a family was tucking into a treat of fish and chips. Others just came to stand and observe the proceedings. It was all rather pleasant.

Wednesday 9th April

We had to make a reasonable early start for Lismore as my appointment with the oncologist was scheduled for a little after ten. I was not looking forward to hearing the bad news and was pondering my mortality. How many months would be left for me. It was frightening and I felt sick to my very bones.

We had mistimed our journey and arrived with at least an half hour free. Yana was all for wandering around a nearby Lismore shopping centre, and as I couldn‘t come up with a viable alternative I joined him temporarily. After a circuit of a bookshop, I trudged up to the hospital in weather that was a lot hotter than I had anticipated. To while away the wait I read some diving magazines that were filled with beautiful pictures of brightly coloured tropical fish and coral. I had once greatly enjoyed snorkelling and wondered if I would ever get the opportunity to do some again. I would like to think that I would.

To my astonishment I heard that my tumour count had remained the same even though the fluid had accumulated so rapidly. It didn't make sense but I was highly relieved. Perhaps my demise was not so impending after all. With a huge amount of luck, I could perhaps even entertain the possibility of a brief trip to Bali next month to coincide with Ginny's visit from Singapore. I would also be able to meet up with Conchita again. Still, before I got too excited I would have to wait another month and see how the fluid behaved. If I bought a ticket it would have to be a last minute purchase. It would not be sensible to get excited but there was a glimmer of hope. A very small slither.

Tuesday 8th April

Before the day became too advanced I raced into Byron to have a blood test. I was to go to Lismore the next day and we would need the results to help us make some decisions for the next move in the treatment process. I was somewhat fearful as the quick build up of fluid did not augur well. There was just one untried drug on the list and that involved going in for chemotherapy five mornings in a row, once a month. This is hardly a convenient procedure so I had managed to push it to the back until that fateful day when there would be no other alternative. I suspect, that the long feared day may well have arrived.

At twelve I fronted up to the radiology department and met with an older doctor who had been persuaded to perform the procedure. He was not so skilled and I could appreciate his reluctance. Fortunately I had overcome my former anxiety and was more than prepared to contend with a little pain, which was just as well, as there was some. I really didn’t mind as I was totally focussed on the relief that I would eventually be feeling. One thing was certain and that was that I didn’t want to spend another night trying to find sleep with such a distended belly.

Yana stayed with me with at the hospital and we watched a bit of television together. I reflected on the last afternoon I had passed in exactly the same room. War had been declared and the whole nightmare in Iraq was beginning. It was less than three weeks ago, and so much suffering and destruction has taken place in the interim. So many people's lives will never be the same again. Strange really, but the only people using weapons of mass destruction are the Americans. But then again many of us suspected that this would be the case.

Monday 7th April

My stomach was too uncomfortable to go traipsing around Brisbane, but I did manage to secure a booking for a draining session for the following day. At a loss for something to do while Tess went shopping I jumped at my brother's suggestion that I come out on his new acquisition, a 33ft catamaran. I hadn't been sailing for such a long time and I quite fancied the prospect of a bit of a water adventure. The boat was magnificent, so roomy and well equipped. It was a far cry from the little single hulled Virgo that had been my home for five months a year or two ago.

Greg, a New Zealander who was doing a spot of handywork in the house was encouraged to leave his work for an hour or two, and off we set. It was quite breezy and as we extinguished the engine to try the sails, the wind intensified. Without any effort at all the cat managed to roar along at an average of eight knots. Any ordinary monohull would have been hard pushed to achieve anything near the same speed. It was all so stable too, with none of the lurching from side to side, and extreme angles that I had grown accustomed to.

Tess eventually returned to Cleveland after a successful shopping expedition and we realised that it was high time to embark on the trip back home. It was dark again, which I quite welcomed, as we didn't have to look at the boring countryside. We chatted a bit, and I enjoyed the opportunity to spend some uninterrupted time with one of my daughters. Yana was home waiting for us, and in extreme boredom I would imagine, had even done some vacuuming. A pot of chicken soup was on the stove and I was more than pleased to see him again.

Sunday 6th April

Rain was falling lightly and I was pleased that I had a workshop to attend. The Northern Rivers Writer's centre had organised for Dr. Tony Macris from the Wollongong University to come and talk about developing novels from short stories. I had been looking forward to the day for some time, as I was desperately in need of some enlightenment on the writing process. I hadn't written for days if not weeks, having felt heartily disillusioned with my efforts.

The talk started with the animated lecturer pronouncing that you couldn‘t develop a short story into a novel as they were both totally different ‘beasts’. Well, did that mean that we should all go home and abandon our plans? Apparently not, as he managed to keep talking fairly enthusiastically until four o‘clock but fortunately we were drawn into discussion at times and were even given the chance to do some writing. My fellow participants were an interesting group, ranging from the articulate and obviously competent, to one chap who was somewhat embarrassing with his naïve self confidence. At times I felt intimidated but ultimately I did get a few ideas and left the session surprisingly keen to return to my writing.

Tess was keen to drive to Brisbane that evening and I had half committed myself to accompanying her. The fluid had built up enormously, but I knew that it would be a day or so before I could have a draining session. I could just as easily make the booking from Brisbane, and decided that a change of scene wouldn‘t hurt. As dark fell we made our departure and managed to arrive at my brother’s house a little before eight, after a speedy and uneventful trip.

Saturday 5th April

Garage sale day and I’ll admit that I was more than happy to venture out and go visiting. I sometimes get so tired of the house and feel quite constrained by my lack of energy. As far as sales went, today's collection was singularly uninspiring. They tended to have little more than heaps of old clothes that would be best suited for a career as rags, and other discards that were well past their useful life span. After the first two I stayed in the car and made my way through the Weekend Australian. It was much more entertaining.

On Yves advice, I prepared chicken broth and was heartily cheered by his recommendation that meat should not be banned from food repertoire. I still do find his exclusion of cheese and eggs frustrating. A nice omelette or hardboiled egg in a salad is something I crave at times and I don't quite follow his reasoning. I must make a point of asking him next time.

The warning about travelling to countries that have reported cases of the very nasty SARS, the respiratory disease, would be sufficient to deter me from visiting. All the other travel warnings, particularly those that have been aired in relation to Indonesia, seem quite pathetic in comparison. With some alarm I watched a travel program the other day that featured Bali, although I have no idea why. If they were trying to restore Bali to its former status, they failed dismally. In between reporting about the island's tourist spots, the journalist mentioned at least five times that the Australian government did not recommend that its citizens visit Indonesia. Then to really drive his reticence home, at the end of the program he asked himself whether he would bring his family to Bali, and responded in the negative. He admitted that he would wait until travelling bans were lifted. I doubt whether anyone would have rushed out and bought air tickets after such a gloomy report and was thoroughly disgusted. Poor Bali.

Friday 4th April

It was actually very cool this morning, and I didn't like it one bit. I was, however, very grateful that I wasn't living in Tasmania, because I know the weather will be getting very cool in those southern parts shortly. Here things are much more consistent, and although I say it was cool, I hardly had to hunt out my winter woollies. In the evening I did don a pair of socks but that could also be because the circulation in my feet has been damaged by the chemotherapy.

I had another mammoth session with Yves the acupuncturist in the late afternoon. I was surprised that sticking pins into a body could cause me feel so sleepy. It certainly is a technique that brings about complete relaxation. Hopefully it will have some other effects too, as it is not a cheap practice to be indulging in so regularly.

I have abandoned my novel writing and am presently trying to recall my visits to traditional healers while I was living in Indonesia. My diary writing efforts during those visits were fairly pathetic and I now find that I have forgotten a whole host of relevant names and other pertinent information. I will not let this defeat me, and if it comes to the worse, I will simply make up names and fabricate what I can't remember!

Thursday 3rd April

I was feeling slightly better today, and was able to consider driving to Bangalow for the writer‘s group meeting. I arrived a little early and so went for a pleasant stroll around the historic streets. It was a brilliant morning and I was able to enjoy the lovely park and local gardens. There were some fascinating shops, specialising in rugs, Indian treasures and other ethnic delights. I will know where to come if I need to do some gift buying.

There are some very talented writers in the group, and I was staggered by their efforts. My little story was a bit pathetic in comparison, but they were sufficiently encouraging, which was very nice of them. I did feel somewhat inspired and that was positive, because I need a little extra motivation. I think I will leave fiction for a bit and return to writing about my Indonesian experiences. I suspect it is an appropriate move.

Yana and I went to the Industrial Estate when I returned to Byron. The cheap bike needs some spare parts and is in definite danger of becoming an expensive bike. While Yana entered the bike shop, I visited a few other establishments. There is an amazing collection of ethnic emporiums, clothes shops and similar businesses. It is quite an interesting area even though the title ‘industrial‘ is a bit of a put off. It is well worth a good long close look.

Wednesday 2nd April

It‘s a bit like Camelot in these parts of late, as it seems to rain every night. It is very pleasant and I am in full support of its continuation. Everything is green, fresh and luxuriant. You can hear the grass growing. Our rather pathetic little courtyard is almost looking vaguely tropical, as the bougainvillea and hibiscus has become deliciously overgrown.

I was struck by a horrendous infection as the day proceeded and was unable to attend the Byron loves Bali meeting. This disappointed me greatly as it is my one commitment for the week, and I quite look forward to it. You would think that I could time things better, I was fine every other day. A doctor’s visit was quickly arranged and a course of antibiotics started. I had hoped I could fight the condition without aid, but it had become painfully obvious that I couldn’t. Blast.

I have tried to shut myself off from the war coverage. I really don’t need to hear the in depth analyses by military people of the efficacy or otherwise of campaigns. Who wants to hear about the horrendous missiles that the Americans are using? All sense of horror has been lost, and the bombing and presenting of casualties is presented so casually. Are these people for real? Is there no compassion, concern or feeling? People’s lives are being changed irretrievably.

Tuesday 1st April

Another month and I am delighted to welcome it. I am still here, although not quite as strong as I would like. An afternoon nap has become an indispensable part of my routine, as much as I would prefer that it hadn‘t. I have made it down to the beach over the last few days, but I no longer feel up to having a walk through the shallow waters. Now I just wet my feet, take a big breath of lovely fresh air, and then plop myself down exhaustedly in the sand.

We are regularly visited by a funny little fox terrier who wears the name Monkey Mia on her collar. Fish O‘Brien, a cat that hails from the same address, the Dolphin House, next door but one, often drops by as well. Sometimes they visit at the same time, and seem genuinely shocked when they spot each other. I really enjoy their company, because we are not allowed to have pets. I miss having animals and am more than happy for Monkey to spend a good deal of her day lying on our couch. I haven‘t met her owners yet, and hence am uncertain as to whether they are missing her.

I have been reading the Oxford Book of Australian Travel Writing and am enjoying it immensely. I was amazed to discover that a fellow called Louis Becke had gone surfing with native men and women in the Gilbert Islands in the 1890‘s. I had always thought that surfing was a much more recent phenomenon. I also discovered that Bali had already been discovered by the art and tourist worlds in the forties, and was considered a very normal destination for the time. So much for those who say that they ‘found‘ the island in the seventies. It had already been well and truly found.

marionecp@hotmail.com