(And my journey with RA...)
I came back to Australia in December to a broken down Cresta with no engine in it, and my pink caravan Betty stuck in a shed out in Leyburn, three hours west of Brisbane. To top it all off I was, much like the Cresta, very, very sick.
My main priority in coming back to Australia had been to
spend Christmas with my kids and to try and get my health issues sorted.
Medicare is a wonderful thing when you have a chronic illness.
After my Route 66 trip ended in Ventura in June last
year, I had noticed when I got up the next morning that I had severe pain in
both of my feet and my hands. I assumed it was some kind of strain from the big
drive. I could barely walk to the bathroom and as I shuffled along, with every
step feeling as though I was walking on shards of broken glass, people asked me
what was wrong.
“I think I have Hudson Pedalitis”, I replied jokingly. I
never for a moment suspected it was anything bad.
But the pain got worse and worse. And then it
started moving around my body. A week later I awoke shrieking in pain as a
sensation that I could only describe as like having a blunt drill bit boring into the bones
in my feet. The slightest touch caused unbearable pain and even the weight of
the blankets was more than I could stand.
The pain then moved into my shoulders
and arms. I found it hard to dress myself and didn’t even have enough strength
to pull the sheets up when I slept. My fingers started swelling and bending in
strange angles and within weeks I became so crippled that I couldn't stand at all and needed help to get
to the toilet. At one point I even needed a wheelchair to get around.
Something was seriously wrong.
Something was seriously wrong.
After about a month I realized that this was not just muscle strain. I ended up at a Critical Care Clinic and they ran some blood tests and
I was quickly referred to a rheumatologist.
“You have Rheumatoid Arthritis”, he said, and I burst into
tears. My Rheumatoid Factor was 267, which he told me indicated the more severe form of
seropositive RA. He also said mine was obviously a particularly aggressive case because of the sudden onset and debilitating effects it was having on me already.
Having been told by the clinic that RA was suspected, I
had looked it up, and nothing I had read about it instilled much confidence in me. The
prognosis was not good and I could find no evidence anywhere of anyone ever
having cured it.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yes”, he said. “Your blood tests are off the charts high,
there is no doubt you have RA. But the good news is that at least you don’t
have Lupus”. I think that was his
attempt at humour.
So I feel this need now, one year later, to tell my RA story
and how it has affected me. RA shattered my confidence. I have always been a
fit and health-conscious person. I eat healthy food, preferably organic when I
can, and enjoyed exercise and going to the gym. I rowed an hour a day and used
to climb cliffs and dance for hours.
I had always believed that if I looked
after myself, and treated my body with respect, that I would be healthy. I felt
my body had betrayed me. During the past twelve months I have navigated my way through the five stages
of grief as I adjusted to the fact that the bouncy, bubbly, energetic, capable
and proudly independent person I had always defined myself as being, was gone.
What was left was a tired, sore, sad and frustrated person who needed help to do
the most basic of tasks.
So what had I done wrong? It’s hard not to assume that when
a savage disease like this hits you. I looked for answers everywhere, and
desperately hoped for a natural solution. I went on a super restrictive
ant-inflammatory alkalizing diet and hoped I could get by without taking the
drugs I had been prescribed: Prednisone and a highly toxic chemotherapy drug
called Methotrexate.
Because RA is an autoimmune disease caused by the immune
system attacking and destroying the joints, the drugs they use are given
because they suppress the immune system. I don’t know about you, but I kinda
like having an immune system!
Anyway, long story short, it takes the specialists a very
long time to get the treatments right. They
try the cheapest drugs on you first, watch as you continue to suffer in
unbearable pain and immobility before trying the next (more expensive and more
effective) drugs.
I am now on the third tier of this process. I am not sure if it is the new drugs, the
restricted diet, the six months off work I have had under doctors orders (during
which I slept a lot - sometimes up to fourteen hours a day!) or the Bikram yoga classes I
have been taking five nights a week for the past month, but I am feeling 1000%
better. I can walk normally again and my strength is slowly returning. I accept my limitations and have learned to adjust to life with RA. I still
have slight pain if I exert myself too much, but compared to what it was, I
feel great! I trust in my body's innate ability to regenerate and heal. I have regained my mojo and now have a renewed sense of purpose and zest for life and a deeper appreciation than ever for noticing and treasuring the good things in my life.
Never take what you have for granted. Life can change in an instant.
So, back to Mary Poppins…
I managed to borrow a car and relocate my caravan from out
west back to the showgrounds at Maleny where I planned to camp a while until I
knew what to do next. Not being in any particular rush, I decided to turn the
journey into a bit of a historical treasure hunt. The roads between the Darling Downs and Maleny take you
through some absolutely stunning parts of the countryside. I like to take the little back road just past Gatton that skirts around the Toowoomba range and and winds along Ma Ma Creek with its caravan-friendly speed limit of 40kph and stunning rock cliffs.
I always make sure I stop in the charming picturesque stuck-in-time country towns like
Clifton, Esk and Kilcoy that are filled with historic old buildings that I love so much to grab a bite to eat or a drink and check out the local shops to do my small bit to help the economies of these places.
The last leg of the journey takes me from Woodford upwards to the Blackall Ranges where rolling green hills give
glimpses through the mist to those “now I am home” Glasshouse Mountains.
There’s something about that view that never
fails to take my breath away. The sight of it always inspires me to start me
singing the Carpenters: “I’m on the top of the world, looking down on
creation…” at the top of my lungs.
I had recently watched a movie on TV called Saving
Mr. Banks about the difficult relationship Walt Disney had with the
author of Mary Poppins producing the film version of her semi-autobiographical
story. In the flashbacks to her life, there was a scene when she attended a
country fair with her parents as a child and I saw the banner “Allora Country
Fair” in the background.
I knew there was an Allora in Queensland and that it was not
far from Leyburn, so I assumed our Allora must have been named after an English one. Then I heard the Australian accents and realized it was actually
set in Queensland!
That was it. I was a woman on a mission. I was going to go
to Allora and find Mary Poppins house. Setting off from Leyburn, I made sure I
really took my time and made a real road trip adventure out of it. There’s
something about country Queensland that has always really appealed to me.
Especially after having spent so long in America, it just all felt so very
typically Australian - like home.
The gum trees lining the roads, the paddocks filled with
long, dry grass that swayed in the wind. The historic old buildings of the small
towns that dot the vast open spaces of not much else
in between.
I love the sight of kangaroos nibbling the short fresh shoots of grass
along the roadside ( you just have to slow down as they do tend to jump out in front of you unexpectedly!). I love the way the sun seems to cast a unique sunbaked golden glow that I
have only ever noticed when I am on the road in Australia. I passed through
fields of blooming sunflowers and sorghum, stopping to take photos of every
wondrous part of my journey.
It felt good to be back in the land where I was born, to
feel the red brown dirt under my feet, and have the scent of eucalyptus in my
nostrils. I felt alive and free and in no rush to be anywhere. I took my time
and savoured every moment, sight, smell and sensation. It was bliss!
Pulling into Allora, I stopped at the petrol station to ask
for directions to Mary Poppins House. Right at the end of the main street, past
the quaint old shop fronts unchanged for over a hundred years, it sat. Just
like it was in the movie. In fact, I later found out that the producers of the
movie had consulted with the owners of the house to get every feature of the
stately old Queenslander home to scale so that the one in the movie is an
identical replica of the actual home that P.L Travers lived in back in early
1900’s.
I parked Betty right outside the house and wandered around
the little town a bit and then down to the nearby creek and as I did so I
imagined the young Helen Goff, as she was known back then, sharing this same
walk hand in hand with her beloved father.
I was amazed that I had never heard about this link to such
a famous author, that after all these years living here, I had never known that
such a famous writer had been born and raised right here in Queensland!
Life is full of surprises and sometimes it just takes a road
trip to discover them!
PS: Vintage Caravan Magazine Issue 28 is currently being printed and will be on sale on the 30th June. Order your copies now at: www.vintagecaravanmagazine.com
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