Not long after I moved to the Coffs Harbour region and purchased a property at Gleniffer with my younger sister Kathryn and her husband Tony Abbotts I began volunteering at Mater Christi. This was around 2003. This volunteering started as a cunning plan to still get the New Start Allowance (dole) without trying to get a job which was an uphill job in this region. But that’s another story.
So it was, I began volunteering at Mater Christi and met my great mate Gavin Harwood. Gavin was (and still is at the time of writing) the AO (Activities Officer) at Mater Christi.
On this particular day we had a “Men’s Group” activity on. This activity was for men only as they are well outnumbered by females when it come to living on. The men liked the opportunity to get together without the women.
On this day the particular activity was going over to another building to play pool / snooker.
Going to another building is a bit of a logistical challenge as some of the men were fine and just walked the 200 to 300 metres and got on with things. Some of the men could walk there but had no idea of where they were going or why. Others were in wheel chairs and had to be pushed there and back. Fred was in the latter category.
Now Fred was a big mother of a man. He had been a shearer in his day and we suspect he had the respect of all and sundry. Well over 6 ft and built like a well constructed outside brick toilet. In his day I think you would have been well advised to be nice to Fred.
Unfortunately Fred as a shearer had possibly imbibed in the drinking stuff a little more than perhaps he should have and as a result had a form of alcoholic dementia. Fred generally just sat quietly in his wheel chair and observed with knowing eyes. Fred didn’t say much but his eyes spoke volumes.
After the game of pool Gav asked me to push Fred back to this room for lunch. So off we went down the asphalt path, Fred was heavy so I did not think that it was unusual that I had to push reasonably hard. After a while (around 100 or so metres) I noticed that Fred was squirming around in his wheel chair. I did not take much notice of this either and kept on with the task at hand - push Fred home - I was new, I was keen and I did not want to fail as a volunteer.
Around this time of squirming and heavy pushing Gav came up beside me pushing another resident. Before we could pass pleasantries Gav said “:Holy f**k look at Fred’s toe. As Fred was immobile, he did not wear shoes, just some lovely pink crochet booties (just the sort of this any self respecting 6 ft plus shearer would wear - not).
Anyway, Fred’s foot had slipped off the foot plate on the wheel chair and given that the booties did not afford much protection his big toe was being dragged along on the asphalt. This particular asphalt was about equivalent to between 40 and 80 grit sandpaper.
Gav carefully extracted Fred’s foot to revel a badly torn pink booty and a bloody and badly lacerated big toe
Ouch!! I here you say. “F****n hell said Gav that’s f****n horrible’. Fred’s eyes spoke to me very loudly.
Unfortunately Fred could not utter these words or anything else. All he could do was wriggle which I had mistakenly interpreted as an urge to get back for lunch or go to the toilet.
To some extent I am unhappy that Fred could not speak, as I am sure I could have learnt some new shearer words. But I am happy that he could not get out of the wheel chair as I don’t think by the look in Fred’s eyes that I would be here to tell the tale.
Gav gently placed Fred’s mangled foot back on the foot plate. Fred looked at his foot and then fixed his murderous gaze on me. I felt somewhat uncomfortable and very guilty. I could see my budding career as a volunteer dissipating in front of my eyes. I think Fred was keen to terminate me on the spot.
I was instructed to get Fred to the Sister in Charge as soon as possible.
Adele the Sister in Charge on that particular day was very empathic and reassured me that it was unlikely that Fred would loose his toe and it wasn’t entirely my fault. She made sure I was updated hourly on Fred’s condition and even called me at home to reassure me of Fred’s condition. Strangely this did not completely remove my guilt or put me at ease.
Perhaps I don’t understand nursing empathy!
After that whenever I saw Fred and particularly when I went near his wheel chair I got a look that still gives me nightmares and made me avoid wheel chairs for a while.