Old Friends

I’ve also had a friend staying in Melbourne. Although for him, it’s not a holiday. It’s just a change of where he’s lying in a bed — and no carers, instead nurses.

We went to high school together. We were not friends but have become friends in the last ten years or so. At high school, we were both outsiders, but his being different made him much more of a target for bullying. That didn’t sound right, I was bullied too. It’s just girls do it more subtly. I know!

When I was young, bullying was called being “picked on”. It was indeed bullying, but you weren’t told by strangers that you should kill yourself. You just ended up wanting to kill yourself. And people had to come up to you and tell you to your face they didn’t like you, at which time you or I would tell them to their face to “Fuck off!” Anyway. I digress.

A few weeks ago, said friend, “Dear John”, rang me on a Sunday night, starting with a profound apology. I cut him off with a, “You never need to apologise to me!” That’s when he explained he had been down already for three weeks, at which time I told him he was dead to me.

My thoughts and feelings on this are that I don’t get back to the country often, so him being closer to me means I’m going to take advantage and hit him with my form of love language. If you’re new here, my love language is food!

Now, what it helps to know about said friend is that he has a spinal injury and has had it since we were only seventeen. He was the tallest, oldest kid at the Royal Children’s Hospital back in 1998. He is considered an incomplete quad. That means for him, he’s in bed most of the day and week. He has the use of one arm from the elbow to his hand, with the ability to reach his phone on his bedhead. It is to say, he cannot feed himself.

The first time I visited him a few years ago with a bag of sweet and savoury treats, I did not know how much help he needed. I prompted him with a very silly suggestion, and he simply told me that nothing gets in his mouth without somebody putting it there! And there is something really humbling about being able to go and feed someone something they could not otherwise access or feed themselves. It’s a humbling experience and a privilege. I’m not friends with him out of pity.

I’ve definitely had many life experiences he has not. I’ve had friends who have lived lives I have not, and I share stories with him he would likely not prefer to hear, but it’s always a starting point. I think he is entertained by my stories and banter. Definitely the d’Affinois I’ve introduced him to.

And more recently, my mushroom baskets and homemade sausage rolls. I usually start his stays in Melbourne by taking him a halloumi pide. It’s something he would not get or bother to try in the country where he grew up and still resides.

I grew up an hour from him, but our lives, as mentioned, have been very different. My first visit was assisted by a friend who drove me there and helped by collecting pide in Heidelberg on our way. I introduced both friends. She went to do her thing and upon arrival, I enquired where his laptop was. He no longer had a small TV hanging from the ceiling, and I was informed his laptop had arrived that morning at 9:25am. After consulting his phone, I discovered that was, in fact, the case. It’s always a challenge being in hospital.

If it’s not a planned visit, you may have found yourself in hospital without so much as a charging cable for your phone. He had also reported to me that he had the “black screen of death” on his laptop! His carer agency had arranged for a new laptop and had it sent. I went to ask at the nurses’ station. It arrived in the time I was there and I prompted him as to whether he had any carers to help set it up. He seemed nonplussed.

My friend returned, and hearing my concern as to who would get it out and set it up for him, my friend got up and went to work. She held out the barcode on the box for me to get a photo and send it to him. I couldn’t even do that, honestly, what a princess I am. I got the fuck out of the way. I asked who would set it up for him, and he said he would. I know for this he uses a stick between his teeth. I asked how long this would take, and he said, “Not long.”

Over the years, we have had many conversations about patients and how this existence has taught him to be patient. I know in comparison to this friend, I’m an Olympic sportswoman. And let’s call her “T for Tech” because however long it takes to set up a new computer, it’s too long. I am so impatient.

While visiting, I gave him a little sass, and my friend — let’s call her “T for Tech” — gave me a look that said I was pushing it too far. I responded with, “What? It’s not his first day!” He snorted a small laugh. You can imagine any more effort than that hurts. I like to laugh out loud.

I like that birds scatter and people might notice and wonder where it came from and what might cause such an outburst. I guess this happens with me too. I imagine people wish they were a fly on the wall in these conversations. I spend actual time with them and not with actual family, as much as I’ve tried.

When I’m out and about with my carers, there is always banter, sweet conversations and a feeling like I’m part of a family. It’s not my actual family, but it is a family.

So, I know I’m in high regard somewhere.