Published Messenger Newspapers, Adelaide, Wednesday, April 3, 2002
COME, FLOAT WITH ME
Another Adelaide morning of autumn perfection - soft, still, a slight frost on the car - and even the drive to work along Port Rd was happening as if in a serene dream. No traffic ahead in my lane, all the lights turning green on cue and a heightened sensory awareness of everything around me. I could not stop smiling. I kid you not. Honestly. It actually happened to me a couple of weeks ago. And without drugs, either. Such states of detached serenity are rare. I can still remember as a teenager, playing in the tennis grand final of the Manifold B Grade seniors, when everyone else seemed to be moving in slow motion except me. I was everywhere, backhand, forehand, every shot a winner, three matches won to love. I played so far above myself it was like having an out-of-body experience. The next weekend I was absolutely wiped off the court by my best mate for the title of club junior champion 1967. Such is life. Most of the time, my life is plagued by little mishaps and stresses that result in anything but peace and serenity, and are most likely bad for my health. Like the other morning, having just walked 3km to St Andrew's Hospital for a colonoscopy and anxious about what awaited me, my pulse when I arrived was 83 and the blood pressure gauge read 184 over 100. Was this too high? It must have set some sort of record at sea level judging by the surprised look on the nurse's face but nothing was said. What, me worry? Checking the clinical notes afterwards, I saw my blood pressure had dropped to 122/70 right after the colonoscopy, with the pulse at 67, and by the time I was ready to go home a couple of hours later it was 142/83 and 69 beats, which presumably must be something like normal for me but still sounds worryingly high. Under the heading, Remarks, the nurse had written the solitary word: "Uneventful.'' For her, maybe. But lying there in bed slowly coming back to my senses, I had drifted off into that marvellous dreamy state of the B Grade tennis final. All praise to pethidine. Sublime peace. Relaxed goodwill. Not a mean thought in my head. Add pethidine to the water supply immediately. It did not last, of course. The next morning, driving to work, I was stuck forever behind a Caterpiller grader and, typically Adelaide, no one would let me change lanes to pass. I could sense my blood pressure rising back to 184/100 - road rage is a perfectly normal response in certain circumstances - and by the time I arrived at work, well, let's just say the day got no better. Crashing all around me were dramas and unprecedented levels of idiocy that had been hatched while I was still in the foetal position at St Andrew's. On the whole, I would rather be having a colonoscopy. Dream on.
