Dianna Edwards and Writing
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Finger healing process

27/5/2015

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Sorry, I’ve been a bit quiet on the Blog front. Every picture tells a story, I suppose. Typing is slow.

Stitches on the finger surgery did not heal as supposed to, so they were left in for 5 days extra. Not a good idea – skin attached itself to the stitches and the removal process (yesterday) was an exercise in sadism as far as I can say. Swear words aplenty spouted from my lips as never before and, once I was released from the torturer’s grasp, I found a coffee shop for a needed pick-me-up. It was then home and into some serious painkillers. The finger, as you can see, is once more bandaged and splinted and will remain so for a while. However, nature is a wonderful thing and, as I sat outside this afternoon, nursing my injury and feeling sorry for myself, I felt a definite urge to let some fresh air and SUNSHINE on to the wound. Instinct sometimes lets us know what to do. I removed the splint, un-bandaged the finger and let it sunbake for an hour. Subsequently it has felt a little better for its ‘outing’.

‘One day at a time’ is the only way to persevere with this sort of thing. And, yes, I know it’s not ‘the end of the world’ and yes, I know there are plenty of people with far more serious post-surgery issues…but this is my finger and it’s bloody painful!



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Finger surgery

21/5/2015

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Sorry about this! But this is what happens when you injure a finger & arthritis sets in, leaving only surgery to repair its function. Still not able to have stitches removed. Still not able to write much on blog - or anywhere! One day.....
One day I will be back to the computer for longer than a few sentences worth of writing.

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The Finger

10/5/2015

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Having finger joint replacement surgery tomorrow. Yes, it's that middle finger - the one the kids call 'the rude finger'. Not looking forward to the operation but will be very happy if it means being pain free eventually. Not sure when I'll be writing again.
Not too long, I hope.

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Equality

7/5/2015

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My husband belongs to a (male only) choir. Yesterday, while attending a function at which the choir was singing, the wife of another choir member asked me if I would  come along to the next men’s choir practice night and ‘help with supper’. I simply answered, ‘No. thankyou.’

She looked surprised and said, ‘Pardon?’

I repeated the ‘No’ part of my original answer and then added, ‘I don’t do that.’

She was stunned. She finally just gave a little laugh and walked off.

(Hate to think what she might have said about me later!)

But, honestly – if the men are big enough to go out at night and enjoy themselves singing together, why should they expect supper to be served afterwards ‘by the little women’?

If they need supper after their singing, let them make it themselves…Please!

What I really wanted to say was, ‘Let them get their own supper!’ But I was too chicken!

 

It reminded me of a day some years ago. I was leaving a church service and as I reached the outer door, a woman approached me with a disposable plate.

‘Here’s an empty plate which we'd like you to please fill with some home cooked goodies for the church fete next Saturday,’ accompanied the proffered plate.

‘Oh, you wouldn’t want anything I cooked,’ was my pathetic reply as I refused the plate.

Not one man was offered an empty plate.

This is the twenty-first century for heaven’s sake!

We still have a long way to go before equality even looks like being a reality in some places.

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They had no chance

1/5/2015

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I really didn’t plan to get ‘on the bandwagon’ about the awful happenings in Indonesia this week, but here I am.

For those who are not familiar with the story, it began almost 10 years ago, when nine young Australians went to Indonesia to collect some heroin to bring back to Australia. They were, apparently, to be paid quite significant amounts of money for their trouble. But trouble beyond imagining is what it turned out to be.

Despite the fact that the father of one of the youngest ‘mules’ had suspected they were up to no good and asked officials to intervene, the authorities watched as the nine travelled to Indonesia, collected the contraband and were then arrested by the Indonesian police.

The nine kids were charged, convicted and sentenced to death by firing squad.

This was ten years ago.

Meanwhile, one of the young people had her sentence changed to 20 years imprisonment and another six had theirs commuted to life in prison. That left two still with a death sentence.

During the ensuing nine + years these two young men began to change in every way. One of them (Andrew) developed an interest in Christianity, to the point where he studied enough to be ultimately ordained as a pastor.
While training and living in the prison, he helped other inmates, counselling them and teaching them. He became an invaluable support part of the prison system there.

The other young man (Myuran) started painting and it was soon apparent that he was a talented artist. An eminent artist came to tutor him and once established in his artistic field, Myuran began to teach and help others in artistic pursuits. It wasn’t only prisoners that he helped, but other students came from poor communities to learn from him and a flourishing art school began in the prison.


But then a change in government came to Indonesia, with a new president who decided he would be tough on drug criminals. And everything changed.

The two young men were made ready for the firing squad.

I won’t go into details about the changing and starting and stopping of plans for these executions, suffice to say it was akin to torture.



Despite the absolute rehabilitation of these two young men over ten years, despite the fact that they provided an important mentoring support and education for others incarcerated, there was to be no mercy. On Wednesday morning, they were taken out to a clearing in the forest, tied with cable ties to wooden crosses (not to symbolise the cross of Jesus, but to restrain them). They had marks drawn over the place their heart was and several marksmen (for each prisoner) fired when a signal was given. There were six other prisoners, also accused of drug trafficking shot at the same time. It was barbaric.

 
The political machinations that led to this tragedy are very involved.

As one commentator says: “Mercy was quite simply not an option for a president obsessed with the politics of toughness for his own domestic purposes.”

It was a corrupt judicial process.

 
Now I find that there are people who do not have sympathy for these two amateur drug runners; some people state the old ‘do the crime, do the time’ mantra and agree with the death penalty. USA has states that still sanction such barbarity and it is accepted by many of their people. I’m afraid that I cannot agree.

These two Australian men were making the most of their imprisonment by helping others and proving their rehabilitation. To me, that says a lot for rehabilitation and education programs being the biggest thing needed in prisons.

And mercy.

Pope Francis: “A little bit of mercy makes the world less cold and more just."



 


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    Author notes

    I choose to comment on social issues and write creatively on a variety of subjects -  for a variety of audiences.

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  • About me
  • Short stories
    • Death in the Desert
    • Secrets
    • Airport Drama
    • Acacia
    • Two Chooks in December
    • A Darned Surprise
    • The Sunset Mermaid
    • Friend or Foe?
    • At Rainbow's End
    • Sisterly Love
    • Good Times to Come
    • Being Famous
    • Something Special for Dinner
    • Walter's Secret
    • The Visitor
  • Children's stories
    • The Red Silk Kite
    • The Singing Tree
    • Beatrice Barnfeather
    • Garth's bath
    • Little Dog Tambo
    • Flowers For a Special Day
  • Non Fiction
    • Letter to a Soldier
    • The Body
    • Autumn Saturday
    • A Year With Billy
    • Lunch
    • Harry's Story
    • 2007 bushfires
    • My Father's Kite
    • Death of a Chook
    • Gentle Heartache
    • Shopping with Sisters
    • When I am Old
    • Matilda
    • Fragments
  • Blog