Mildura days

En route to Mildura. A pink sunrise at Tullamarine airport, through the window of my plane :::

The patient :::

One (very heavy) plastered ankle, post op. Patient doing well ((and much better now, two weeks on))

More than anything, Dad was mad with himself that this could have happened. But he is slowly adapting to the new method of getting around for the next 5 weeks - the hop. Aided by a tall frame, a daily physio class and fluoro pink hand-held weights, he is gradually developing strength - and great pecs! Not bad for an 87 year old!

My brother and I ended up staying a full week down there - we both felt that we couldn't leave him, at least until he was more comfortable and we were a little more sure of the (long) road ahead. After initially hoping we could fly him back to Sydney to be close to me, the hospital advised that it might be better for him to stay there. They were happy to keep him there for the length of his rehabilitation but we still spent the week trying to decide what to do, how to get him home, when, where, etc. In the end we agreed that he was in the best place for now. The hospital is fairly new and we are really pleased with the treatment he is receiving. And the food is great. It's varied and fresh and well cooked and he has a lovely selection of fresh fruit with each meal.

He was initially in a 4 bed ward with 3 other men. One man was in his 50's and his family were frequent visitors, nice people but noisy, talkative Italians. The other two, Tom and Bert were men in their 90's. Both were old farmers from the area, one had been in the RAAF like Dad. Both men were frail but had a sense of humour that was gentle and charming.

Later in the week, Dad was thrilled to have a visitor from Legacy, a retired navy man. Dad has been involved since the end of the 1940's so it was nice for him to be on the receiving end of their support and care.

Dad sent us on daily errands, getting him organised for after our departure, because we both had to eventually get back to work, home and all the rest. So each day, after he had finished his lunch we would head off for ours. Then it was off to do our errands and sometimes we would go for a drive so he could have a rest in the afternoon. We drove by a rather well known Mildura restaurant, and dropped in for lunch. Great pizza and coffee :::

A very skilful front of house man made an offer we couldn't refuse - a table, the last one he assured us, for dinner that night. We had to eat ... so we took up the offer.
Later that night, after an undeniably good but excessively expensive meal, we agreed we had been somewhat duped - crazily priced wine, mostly connected to the owner in some way. But the man can definitely cook. With our close proximity to the kitchen, sitting at the table we were told was reserved for family and friends, (squeezed under the serving counter and butted up beside the plating and despatching table), we could observe The Chef in action. He remained remarkably restrained all evening, but we were nevertheless treated to a show of sorts - a trickle of slightly fawning fans, clutching his books and lining up for his autograph and personal advice for their home cooking. What perhaps amused us the most was our used-car-salesman front of house man who turned up sizzling, smooth and sharply dressed for the evening show. My brother christened him The Pimp, but we agreed he was an extremely likeable one.

So, Mildura. We got to know it quite well over the 8 days. Mildura is renowned for it's grapes, both wine and table, fruit and vegies and particularly wonderful navel oranges, in season right now. Oh, and The Chef.