White smoke or black smoke?

MrJoop

Ramsgate, Australia

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Artist's Description

View from Auburn Hospital.
Yesterday I went to visit my father, in Auburn hospital. He’d been there a few days to see what could be done about the swollen leg.
His bed was gone.
Saw a nurse in the corridor.
Told her I was missing a father.
Oh. Wasn’t I told?
He was on the fourth floor now, in a single room because of his leg.
Took the lift again.

Found him, sitting in a common room, just past that room, watching a kids’ quiz show.
Great view. In the summer it must be pleasant (If staying in a hospital is pleasant) to sit there and look out over Sydney.

Had to correct my father.
He likes saying that he’s not doing badly for 90!
Explained that he had turned 91, on the 14th of July but that I hadn’t wanted to upset him.
Made sure he had his boterruitjes and chocolate balls and promised to return the next day.

When I got home, the answering machine told me that he’d been sitting there, waiting for the ambulance, to return him to the retirement village.
The village had been informed in the morning (Wish I had been.) but transporting him had obviously not been urgent.
To quote one of my father’s favourite mantras: I’m not complaining though. This time I do believe that the R.N., of the village is right about clinical care being good, at that hospital.
Perhaps communication skills could be looked at a little bit.

The R.N., is quite right about how much more quiet Auburn Hospital is, compared to Bankstown, where my father has been a regular customer now, for many years.

As my teaching career dissolved just before it should have ended the normal way, at one stage there was talk of finishing it in a primary school, in Auburn.

During the time when my mother was in the wars because of her Alzheimers and my father’s heart attack had first gone unnoticed, when he was trying to cope with the strange things that my mother did, I was sent to speak with the principal of that school in Auburn, about being part of the executive there.

It was very plain, that, with what was going on in my life, taking on a position, in a school where all sorts of – seeminly complicated – programs were going on to cater for a highly diverse, multicultural school population, that I was not in the mood and they were not convinced that I was ready to take this on.
I never did end up ending up down below there, in Auburn.

On my way to and from the hospital, the radio was full of Catholics and youth, and the premier, of our State of N.S.W., speaking Italian, to Italian media, here, in Sydney because of World Youth Day and the visit from the pope.

Apparently our premier, brought up speaking Italian, here, in Sydney, speaks Italian, in the way that I speak Dutch, with an Australian accent and intonation.

Artwork Comments

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  • Bev Woodman
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  • Sharon A. Henson
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