So, it was goodbye to Mildura and, among other things, the omnipresent Walnut Avenue ...
My brother made a solo return trip to Mildura last week, to oversee Dad's departure. His imagined stay of a day or two turned into five. During hospital siesta hours, he visited Robinvale and Trentham estate, stocking up on local olive oil and red wine ... and solving all upcoming birthday and Christmas presents.
We were really happy to learn that dad had been accepted as a passenger with Angel Flight. This rather extraordinary organisation co-ordinates non-emergency flights throughout Australia, transporting people in remote country areas to wherever they need to be. For dad, Mildura was just so far away from his home. A commercial flight was way too involved and a car trip virtually impossible, while he was still reliant on a tall gutter frame to move around. Angel Flight was a brilliant solution.
I contacted the hospital near his home and they proved to be very friendly and welcoming every time I rang to discuss the transfer arrangements.
We had hopes that the flight would happen on Friday but it was not until last night, Sunday, that the expedition finally got underway.
My brother rang me as the small plane taxied down the runway. He reported that dad had been gently folded into the tiny plane, settled and tucked up with the help of the wonderful pilot and his two genial companions. Thankfully my brother had been able to give dad his very warm coat, leather gloves and woollen cap because the plane's heater was not working.
The pilot and his friends had set off from Melbourne a few hours earlier and would return later that night, after depositing Dad.
They took off, then turned and did a fly past, before beginning the two and a half hour flight north. A late start meant that they would not get to Bankstown until well after dark.
My brother said it was the strangest feeling, watching the plane disappear while he stood on the tarmac, a lone wheelchair in hand. The Mildura chapter of the story was over, but he was still there ...
About an hour out of Bankstown, the pilot called me. He said dad was going really well and they were on time.
Now it was our turn. My husband and I set off around 7pm. We rapidly got lost (it was a dark and stormy night), arriving at the aerodrome just as the plane was taxiing towards us. The passenger terminal was in darkness, locked and bolted. But incredibly, right at that very moment there just happened to be a friendly security guard doing his rounds. He unlocked the gates and escorted our car - driven by my husband - right up to the plane.
I ventured towards the cockpit of the minute aircraft and peered into the back. There was dad, wearing my brother's cap set at a jaunty angle, looking half frozen but smiling happily. The air had been so cold en route that the engine and wings had iced over. Just as well the outside heaters were working. The temperature inside the little plane had dropped to about 1 degrees Celsius (-5C outside.) Yes, brrrrrrr! Dad weathered it all very well, with the aid of the cosy coat, gloves and that cute beret.
I was really quite in awe of the remarkable men that escorted dad back home. These three men were doing this wonderful thing without any recompense or reward, other than, I think, the pleasure of helping people and the enjoyment of flying. They kept saying what a privilege it had been to carry dad and I really felt they meant it. I'm sure he had shared a few flying stories with them on the journey, one old pilot to a younger crew.
Our next conundrum was how to move dad from aeroplane to car. It was solved quite quickly when my husband and two of the men managed to unfold dad from the plane, then lift and carry him straight to the car.
Then just as quickly as they arrived, we were bidding the men farewell on their long return journey back to Melbourne. I know I'm repeating myself here but I am still thinking of this quite extraordinary little episode.
The rest of the story is more mundane. We drove away with the heater turned high to thaw out the frosty traveller. It was approaching 10 o'clock when we arrived in the mountains. More chillier air I could not have imagined. I initially had trouble convincing the reception staff that we were a genuine transfer. They could not seem to get their heads around our fantastic journey - but a phone call to the nurses soon confirmed our story.
When the nurse came to help dad into the hospital, she remarked on something that had just landed on the wheelchair - snow! Yes, to add to the eventful night, we were in the midst of a long awaited snowfall - "and it's August!" she said.
Dad was deposited into a bed with his name printed on a sign above it - a good sign we thought. The very kind and caring night nurses found him an egg sandwich, apple juice and a cup of tea. He sat on the edge of the bed, quietly recovering from the amazing expedition. We helped him unpack, sort out his things and get a little more comfortable. But the night was drawing to a close. It was time for dad to go to sleep and for us to return home. We left him fairly relaxed and very happy to be that much closer to home.
Even though it was a rainy night and the road was quite dark at that late hour, we had a pretty good trip home. We arrived a little dazed and bemused - although that could have been the extreme sugar hit en route - soft drink and chocolate to keep us awake. We ended the evening with a very late supper of hot tea and more comforting chocolate.
And my brother kept texting me throughout the evening. He was back in the hotel again, the same one we had stayed in from the beginning of this saga. It's never wise to set out on a car trip after 5 in the country, the light is failing and the kangaroos are out so I was very glad he chose to stay put. Plus he was totally exhausted from the eventful day. He returned to the hotel he had checked out of only that morning and reported that he was watching The Movie Show, while sipping some of the red he had bought the other day ... it was groundhog day and was he ever going to be able to leave Mildura? ...
Addendum :::
Dad went well today, the new hospital is somewhat better and somewhat worse: great physio but very ordinary food, and ward chums that like leaving the tv on all the time ...
My brother made a successful escape from Mildura, drove the 8 hours home and was last heard of curled up in front of the fire, en famille and pets, sipping more of the red, a most esteemed and venerable fellow escapee from Mildura ..........
