Billy Idol In A Tube - A Schwannoma Diary (#2).

If you've never had Magnetic Resonance Imaging (MRI) performed before, it's a difficult experience to distill into a basic description. Having thought about this over the past few days, I think the best way to sum it up is in two words - a peaceful panic. 

I consider myself a veteran of the MRI machine, having undergone more of them than I care to count over the past twenty or so years. So, I no longer experience the crippling claustrophobia I felt when I first entered one of these machines back in the 90's. That's not to say the feeling is totally absent. I mean, I still lose my shit if I get tangled up in a sleeping bag, so I retain a certain, unhealthy fear of tight spaces. The MRI and I have, somehow, come to a mutual understanding. We don't fuck with each other.

Entering the two foot wide tube on Sunday was kind of a mundane exercise - if you could call it that. I went into this scan with a clear sense of the objective. We were to map the tumor sitting in my spinal cord in preparation for surgical intervention. Knowing this, and having the clinical knowledge that comes from over 20 years as an Intensive Care Nurse, I didn't feel a great deal of anxiety. 

Once my entire body was delivered into the entirety of the machine - then, it was a case of, "Oh Shit! I'm in this confined space for at least half an hour and I have to lay completely still."

 Of course, they do give you a panic button and headphones - mainly to block out the frightening sound of the magnets circling at insane speeds around your body - but also to pipe music or radio talk back of your choice into your ears as a measure of comfort. I chose the broadcast of the Test Cricket between Australian and India at the Adelaide Oval but the radiographer had a difficult time actually finding the station. For several minutes, I had FM radio blaring Billy Idol's "Hot In The City" in my ears. As I was feeling an uncomfortable warmth in my pelvis (real or imagined), I thought the song was appropriate.

Somehow, the radiographer fiddled with the dial and, like that first bit of radio static you hear on Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here", the Cricket broadcast was eventually found. 

Recently, I have been using a meditation app called "Calm". Like the many guided meditation apps that are available at the moment, this app focuses on the breathing as your centering strategy, while voice guidance - provided by the wonderful Tamara Levitt - lulls you into a state of relaxation and...well...Calm! throughout each, roughly 15 minute session.

This method of breathing and focus came in handy while I was in the machine. I found I was able to push away the chaos of the magnets spinning around my body, assaulting my tissues with their insane fields of energy, and find a state of being that helped. The claustrophobia - the panic of feeling claustrophobia - peeled away from me and, funnily enough, even the sound of the magnets became a tool with which to enhance my state of calm. Of course, the cricket helped as well. 

Not Billy Idol though. He's a tool. 

The set of pre and post contrast images, focusing on the lesion in my spinal cord, were good images. At first there was a little confusion because the tumor didn't take up the contrast as readily as was expected (tumors are inherently vascular). It has become cystic, space occupying, which accounts for the leg weakness and pain, the urogenital dysfunction and my lazy bowel, so it has to be dealt with sooner rather than later. 

I meet with my Neurosurgeon tomorrow to discuss the results and go to the next stage.

(image credit - Getty images.)

Emotionally, I'm ragged. I'm at war with my thoughts - my anxieties. Knowing I have this parasitic "thing" within me does not encourage good tidings. I can't plan anything - certainly around Christmas or beyond. At a time of year where everything is insane and people have to think 12 steps ahead, I'm forced to live day to day. Plans I've made with the family have to be held in stasis until we know more and I feel a pressure cooker of expectation. Most of this of course, is in my own head. I don't want to let people down - most of all my kids who, at this time of year are filled with Christmas butterflies. And time always moves slowest when you don't know the answers to their questions.

I'm also asking the question, why did this thing come back? That has been playing on my mind more and more and, of course, that can't readily be answered. I know I shouldn't ruminate over that too much because there's no use in it. It came back and that's all there is to it.

I listened to Joe Rogan talking with Jordan Peterson over the weekend and they were talking about the nature of struggle. Peterson was saying that struggle is an inherent part of human nature - of being - and it's how we approach the struggle that determines our character. I'm trying to approach all of this with strength and focus. It's elementary really. This thing has got to come out. I've got to accept the struggle and navigate the path through it. 

I've got too much living to do. 

DFA.  

Men Are Dickheads. Stop It!!

Men are dickheads.

It seems to be the case that my sex are increasingly displaying behaviour in public that has me dropping my head and shaking it in complete and utter bewilderment.

There have been three occasions within the past week here in Australia in which men have behaved like complete dickheads.

Last week, it emerged that a Minister of the Crown in our Federal Government, made inappropriate advances towards a female staffer from a Government department, known as the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade, whilst on a tax payer funded delegation in Hong Kong. The details of the "inappropriate advances" have, so far, not been made explicit, however they were deemed serious enough for the Minister, Jamie Briggs, to have to tender his resignation as Minister for Cities.

In the fallout from this, our national broadsheet newspaper, the Rupert Murdoch owned Australian, released portions of text communication that occurred between the female staffer and her superiors over the incident but they also published a pixelated photograph of the staffer posing with the former Minister's Chief of Staff (taken prior to the incident of inappropriate advances). It has since emerged that the photograph had been distributed to his parliamentary colleagues, revealing the identity of the female staffer, by none other the Jamie Briggs himself.

Let's be clear here - a Federal Minister has behaved in a manner that has caused a female staffer to make a formal complaint and then he has distributed a photographic image of that staffer. This is conduct that is not only illegal, it is immoral.

This whole train wreck continues however. On Monday, January 4th here in Australia, journalist Samantha Maiden (of Rupert Murdoch's News Limited stable) penned an excoriating opinion piece in which she similarly chastised the behaviour of the Minister and the ramifications of that behaviour. Subsequent to that opinion piece, another Federal Minister, this time the Minister for Immigration and Border Protection, Peter Dutton composed a text message, referring to Samantha Maiden as a "mad fucking witch. The intended recipient of this text message was his colleague, slain Minister Jamie Briggs.

Peter Dutton sent the text message to Samantha Maiden herself.

It has often been said that our current government and many of its male Members of Parliament have a problem with women particularly and sexism/mysoginy more generally. I have highlighted two examples of our Parliamentary leaders, our legislators - Men!! - who have made themselves look like complete dickheads and, by extension make men look like collective dickheads.

I have problems with authority - particularly unearned authority. Messers Briggs and Dutton are two cases in point. Both men should be sacked and bundled out of Parliament immediately.

But this is not the end of my frustration.

Last night, (January 4 here in Australia), during our limited overs cricket competition, known here as the Big Bash League, former West Indian Test Captain Chris Gayle, who is currently playing for the Melbourne Renegades, was interviewed following his innings by Channel 10 journalist Mel McLaughlin. In the exchange that followed, Gayle said, on air, that he wanted to be interviewed by McLaughlin "just to see your eyes for the first time." 

In what quickly became cringe worthy television, Gayle continued his sleazy flirtation with McLaughlin by adding, "Hopefully we can win this game and we can have a drink after". 

A clearly uncomfortable McLaughlin tried to steer the interview back to cricket but (dickhead) Chris Gayle misinterpreted her unease by saying, "Don't blush baby".

Yep. He said that.

Predictably, the internet has erupted this morning in reaction to this exchange and it has been on a sort of rolling boil since (dickhead) Briggs and (dickhead) Dutton made prize idiots of themselves in the past week.

Men - particularly men of influence - treat women appallingly. Men everywhere treat women appallingly and I am completely bloody sick of it. Most men are dickheads and if we men that are left don't call out this dickhead behaviour then we are dickheads too.

There is a really nasty undercurrent of behaviour perpetrated by men in Australia that has been allowed to fester for far too long. And it has to stop. We have to stop it.

Stop. Being. Dickheads.

DFA.

Affecting Voices - Greta Bradman Takes Flight.

I can pin point the moment when my love affair with classical music began. In 1988, a friend of mine turned up at high school one day with a new release on cassette tape which he enthused was possibly the best thing he'd ever heard. We were both fans of the rock band Queen and flamboyant front man Freddie Mercury and this new release album was something kind of unexpected.

The album was 'Barcelona', Mercury's collaboration with Spanish soprano Montserrat Caballé, a classical cross over recording which which became a world wide hit and spawned an Olympic theme in the title track which was celebrated in the Spanish city a year after Mercury's death in 1991.

Barcelona was a collaboration that few people understood at the time, mainly because reviewers approaching the recording did so from the perspective of a rock album. This was something else entirely - the world renowned superstar rock vocalist sharing song with a classical soprano of equal stature - a pairing that fans of rock and classic didn't quite get. And yet, it became quickly apparent that there was something magical going on in the ten track recording. Very soon, it had become a major hit for both artists.

For me, I got it right away. I was utterly captivated by Montserrat Caballé's majestic soprano, a voice that was effortless yet strong, rising from the depths of Caballé's soul to wield an unmistakable power. With Mercury by her side, his own tenor voice mingling resplendently with hers, 'Barcelona' touched off a desire in me to discover more of Caballé's performances while also exploring classical music more generally.

Years later, having appreciated a diverse collection of classical voices, I thought I hadn't struck a soprano that had affected me in quite the same way as Caballé. Then I discovered Greta Bradman.

(image credit: Stephen Bacon). 

A recitalist and stage performer from Adelaide, Bradman has been steadily building a profile since commencing her professional career in 2010 as a concert classical singer. Her rise to prominence has accelerated since she won the 2013/14 Australian International Opera Award. This lead to further training under Dennis O'Neill at the Wales International Academy of Voice which, in turn, brought her to the attention of internationally acclaimed Australian conductor Richard Bonynge - husband of the late Dame Joan Sutherland - who has described Bradman's voice as a revelation that represents "the true old fashioned bel canto sound - the sort we only dream about today."

(image credit: Universal Music Australia).

Greta Bradman is set to release her début operatic recording 'My Hero' with Richard Bonynge conducting the English Chamber Orchestra. The album is described as a tribute to Greta's musical heroes - among them Richard Bonygne, as well as her maternal and paternal grandparents, each of whom have influenced her love of music and the direction her career has taken. The track listing features highlights from the operas of Handel, Mozart, Verdi and Bellini as well as modern classics from works such as Rodgers and Hammerstein and Walt Disney and has been described as the perfect showcase for Bradman's remarkable talent.

(Greta Bradman on Soundcloud.)

A recent profile on Greta Bradman for the ABC television series Australian Story, tracked her remarkable career and the legacy that has shaped her. It gives a compelling insight into the often difficult journey she has taken to arrive at this point. The account is an inspiring one and well worth viewing.

It would be wrong of me to compare Greta Bradman's voice with anyone. However, her performance in the recordings I have heard thus far affect me in the same way that I was affected the first time I heard Montserrat Caballé's. Bradman draws her voice from a deep wellspring within her and she propels it through a considerable vocal range arriving at her signature soprano with an undeniable power. She inhabits that realm effortlessly and one can't help but to be captivated by it. 

My Hero is available as of August 7th 2015.

Visit Greta Bradman here. 

Connect with Greta Bradman here.

Tweet Greta Bradman here. 

DFA.