Dry River Writings
So the Mechanic’s pedalling up a steep hill on a gravel trail when a guy on a motorbike pulls up beside him. ‘You OK?’ He’s wearing one of those official orange T-shirts. ‘Yep,’ the Mechanic pants. ‘Doing fine.’ ‘Alright, mate,’ says Motorbike Guy. ‘I’ll keep checking in.’ And he does. Half an hour later he’s…
ICU nurse Kayla is hanging a big bag of opaque yellow liquid on my IV pole. ‘I call this one the banana bag,’ she says. ‘It’s packed with nutrients. If there’s ever any left over I take it home and put it on my roses.’ Another ICU nurse tells me that when you undergo…
For anyone who read my memoir, Long Road to Dry River, and is interested in a bit of backstory, The Brevity Blog (US) has kindly published a short (very short) essay I wrote about a light bulb moment in the writing, and my precious aunt who brought it about.
In December 2021 I heard that an exciting clinical trial for progressive MS was enrolling participants again. ATA188 was the work of Professor Michael Pender at the University of Queensland, a study I’d been following for years. In fact I’d enquired about taking part in the Phase 1 trial about 12 years ago, but it…
Who could have known, back in December when I started the immune-suppressant Ocrevus treatment for my MS, that a pandemic was brewing? I’ve been feeling particularly exposed and even asked people at my March book launch (more on that later) to refrain from the usually obligatory hugs at the occasion. But now, a month later,…
1.30 am, New Year’s Eve. The FiresNearMe text: Put your plan into action. I hear a vehicle down on the road, coming in from the forest. Then another. Soon, a constant stream. 2 am. We’re backing down the driveway, in two cars. I have the dogs, food for them, water, my walker, and the Mechanic…
Thanks for your kind enquiries—my initial Ocrevus infusions are done, and nothing to report, no adverse reactions. As for any benefits, I won’t know until March. But something new—our neighbour’s bees have been descending en masse onto our birdbath, the shallow one. It must be the only accessible water source within range. They mostly cluster…
Hilary Mantel, on winning Bookers for her consecutive novels Wolf Hall and Bring Up the Bodies, compared it to waiting for a bus: ‘You wait 20 years for a Booker prize and then two come along at once.’ Two major events, years in the build-up, are culminating for me in the next couple of months.
It was my dirty secret for a while. Then I mentioned it to a friend … who confessed to a similar habit. And slowly they came out of the woodwork—other addicts. Or aficionados. In any case, many friends and neighbours with a predilection for jigsaw puzzles.
Did I say ‘carer’? The Mechanic balks at that word. ‘I’m a husband,’ he says. ‘Caring’s just part of the job description, isn’t it?’ Anyway, roles were reversed last week. He woke up on Tuesday with a stiff calf muscle. He’d done an eighty kilometre ride the day before and thought he’d try some gentle…