The Medical ‘Claim-Back’.

 

As was written before, the procedure of a cataract removal involved a number of procedures of which, on the benefit of hindsight, the main one seemed to be of a financial nature more than a medical one. More time was spend on writing and printing the bills than on the actual cataract operation which might not have lasted more than perhaps five minutes or so. The bills were very concise and clear after which it was necessary to pay them, and that took some time in processing with the usual presenting of a card that was swiped or tapped on a special device. There is always the usual moment of suspense to see if the payment would be accepted or not. I always feel a bit anxious with this form of payment. A few times in the past my payments by card did not work and my guilt always goes into automatic when this happens, as if I am trying to gain an advantage through deceit.

After an appointment with the optician some months ago, it was deemed an eye surgeon ought to be engaged and after the corona hold-up, the operation was done some days ago. The total cost was several thousand dollars of which the cost of the operation was small compared with cost of the hospital. A private hospital. I was told by the surgeon that to get this operation paid for by social benefits it would mean waiting a prolonged period and no definite date could be given, worse it was hinted, that ophthalmic ( four consonants) students often sharpen their burgeoning skills by doing minor operations.

Out of the goodness of Australia’s social security’s heart, one can make a claim on the surgical part but not on the private hospital costs, which as mentioned before was the major part of the expenditure. The grand total of $ 579.- was claimable. But let me tell you, that the Private Hospital sandwich was superb and with a glass of juice to boot. The nurses were friendly and so was I, and refrained from a silly remark when I noticed that the lapel on one attractive nurse’s shirt had ‘Gina’ on it.

Years ago I had a number of colonoscopies done in a public hospital and at one stage almost was wheeled into a room to get an hysterectomy done instead, because I had ‘Mary’ on my wrist-band. I still shudder thinking about it. What a blunder. No fear this time of that happening as I had two wristbands, one for each arm. No mistake in a Private Hospital!

So, two days ago I went to the Bowral ‘Centre-Link’ government office to make my claim for the $ 579.-. Helvi and I sometimes had to go there in order to prove we were still alive and not getting benefits by deceit pretending we were alive instead of being dead. It always takes time, to prove life. The atmosphere in Government offices is usually of an all pervading gloom. The room, the people, the whole atmosphere is grey and of totally leeched out despair. This time it wasn’t too bad. Because of the corona virus they only let in five people at the time. Many were in a listless queue waiting outside. I, because of my senior countenance was given preference and was herded in by a man with a large stomach who proceeded asking me questions about my corona history and if I felt giddy or off colour. I was let in and seated at a suitable distance away from others.

There was a jolly woman and friendly husband making the best of the situation, nodding friendly in my direction. I am a sucker for friendly laughing people and my mood went skywards, here is a chance to connect with another soul! It wasn’t long before I had my case dealt with and was told the money would go automatically into my account which I could check the next day.

I did, and it was there.

 

A solid foundation for bullying.

With a steady stream of  News on TV and newspapers about many forms of bullying inflicted on school students including the latest insights on’hazing parties’at our Sandstone and other prestigious universities one wonders where this stems from? While this might go on in other countries, I am not aware of it, and can only write about what happens here ‘today’ in our own neck of the woods.

http://www.abc.net.au/triplej/programs/hack/labor-tells-residential-colleges-to-clean-up-their-act/9494780

The Australian school systems, especially the more exclusive ‘Private school’s’ have a system whereby the school classes have captains, prefects or duxes appointed by the head master or mistress whose rules and penalties were the standards and to be obeyed without questioning or a recourse to a higher authority. The most likely reason for this is that many established rules of our societal norms have been inherited from the British. (Till this day our head of state is the English Queen). In schools cheating or letting down the other side is still considered more serious than failures of sensitivity. Stealing is still seen as the most serious failure.

In Australian schools, prowess at sport is extremely praiseworthy and excuses many breaches of rules and decorum. Bookishness and dislike for physical activities is disliked and even arouse suspicions of a certain moral darkness and even invites punishment or some form of disciplinary action for the slightest breach of the rules set by the school captains or prefects. A good rapping over the knuckles with a bamboo stick was the answer.

Hardiness is considered more important than sensitivity, let alone imagination. In boarding schools you get up at six, take a cold shower and run a mile before the classes assembled in uniformed solidarity. Woe those that had hidden a book under their pillow.

It isn’t’ just at schools that initiated the now well established nation-wide art of bullying. This was also the norm at many work places. After arrival in Australia I was amazed at the initiation practices imposed on young apprentices including myself, a cruel process of degrading the hapless victim, most times of a sexual nature, often overseen by the chortling foreman or factory manager. It was ‘the norm.’ A psychologist would rationalise and explain it by saying; ‘you give back what was given to you.’ This is at the very centre of what is now still so rampant in Australia. ‘We bully you to give back what we were given.’

It just doesn’t apply to schools or universities. Just look how our politicians behave, almost on a daily basis. And how does one explain the fact that refugees are now in their fifth year of deliberate and intentional detention on Nauru an Manus. While a small dribble of people have finally been allowed to settle in America, the majority are still stuck in endless limbo. A purer form of punishment and bullying would be hard to imagine.

http://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-03-01/bullying-must-stop-pm-writes-to-schools-amid-university-hazing/9496150

Yet, our PM has now instructed his department to write to every headmaster to install programmes to alleviate bullying. But this is a hollow act, perhaps to make him look good and enhance his future election as a PM.  A better example would be to show kindness to the refugees still in detention. Admit that coming by boat to Australia escaping the mayhem of bombings in own countries is no crime.

Our PM would do better and do away with the overt British system of discipline and punishment above all else.

Show some kindness instead.

 

The annual obsession with School uniforms raises its ugly head.

 

“Students in NSW, Victoria and the ACT are not required to study maths at all in Years 11 and 12”.

“Australian schools continue to fall behind in maths and science – ABC .”

“Maths should be compulsory at school: our future jobs depend on it”

With those alarming headlines one would hope that educational information would be at the forefront of all schools that are touting for students.  Lofty statements would be made at all schools, that maths was already compulsory. (together with a language apart from English as well).

But what do we get?

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-5355581/Hundreds-Brisbane-students-detention-shoes.html

Over a hundred students were send home because their shoes did not fit the regimented size thickness of sole or heel, perhaps both. The head-master was seen to take the tape out and measure students shoes. A few millimetres out, and the students was marched outside the gate. It is a surprise the head-master had the skill in measuring seeing he probably also went without the compulsory maths. I am gobsmacked.

Maths in Australian schools is not compulsory but uniforms are?

Where does all this originate from?

If education is meant to take a young person to its full potential, surely letting them dress freely ought to be the norm. Isn’t the expression of the individual not at the forefront of the unfolding of a growing person? Why do parents put up with that? It is so stifling.

And while we are at uniforms ,why do we show our love of such blatant inequality when we have high fee charging Posh private schools and Bog public schools.

All schools should be equal and no divisions. All schools have both boys and girls. All teachers have minimal Masters Degrees and be well-paid.

Here another link to a good article by Jane Caro.

http://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-02-07/school-catchments-best-public-schools-best-private/9381942

No compulsory math?

Getting down to Earth

With the heat of the last few days in retreat, I’ll try and revive a few more words. Words tend to wilt with anything over 26c. If not wilt, melt. Like butterfly into buterfy or wedding into bedding. Letters faint, drop off. In the meantime. Let me recall some of the last few days. Of course, the minimum requirements during heat are plenty of electric fans. The double glazing is fine when the nights cool off. Eventually everything gets hot and an itchiness develops to just survive breathing in and out.

One of the advantages of large shopping malls or even small ones is that they are air-conditioned. Dire warnings for elderly to stay well hydrated, avoid sun sugar seek shelter, stay calm. It wasn’t helped reading more people die of heat than drownings. We sought refuge in Aldi, just sauntering around the oranges and broccolini. It is amazing though that the the big ones such as Woolworth and Coles that advertise on the Telly, are losing custom. You won’t see Aldi on TV. Yet Aldi is taking away shoppers in droves from the big supermarkets. It are the Mercedes and BMW’s that now glide in and out of Aldi’s parking stations.

Svelte bouffant blonde ladies carefully going over the specials, bending over sweet potatoes, fingering the carrots that one is likely to encounter at Aldi now. Men in Country Road shirts, camouflaged shorts with many pockets lingering around the tool section, contemplating sets of spanners or paper shredders. It is so relaxing. An escape from heat. I wonder if taking a couple of easy fold-out chairs into the air-conditioned splendour of Aldi would be objected to? I mean a couple of oldies just taking it easy?

During one hot night. I took to extremes. A fold-out bed under the fan. Desperate measure.  The fold-out bed is about twenty centimetres above floor level. Pretty handy, I thought. A bit like going back to my camping days. But, again for each progressive move forward, a punitive counter move. With the much lower centre of gravity I could not get up when a call of nature beckoned. Let me tell you. Getting older is in direct proportion to toilet breaks. The less years ahead the more toilet breaks are engaged in. After a few attempts in trying to get up by using available leverage I found out my limitations.  Sitting up was achieved but not actually standing up. I felt helpless. I needed nurse. I considered just letting it just flow all out. Who cares?

The mind gets active in emergencies. I thought that if I rolled out onto the floor first I might just be able to get up by the help of the coffee table next to the bed. I managed to do just that. I first dropped my feet on the floor, followed by legs, than my torso, chest accompanied by neck and attached head. I rolled over and by arching my knees managed to get enough off myself  from the tiled floor to reach the top of the coffee table. The rest was easily managed. I felt so proud. Almost did a Tarzan’s jungle call but thought it would alarm Helvi. She slept well elevated above ground level in our communal bed. I went to the toilet triumphantly.

Another handy hint during the present heat-wave is for the elderly to seek shelter in the local hospital. We are living right next to not one but two hospitals.  A public hospital and a private one. The Public hospital use blue-tack and sticky -tape while the Private hospital  gives you a free pen to sign over your wallet.  One could just find some excuse or ailment and take a comfy chair in the emergency department. They often have lots of magazines. Many waiting patients can be engaged with comparing levels of ailments or the latest government pension cut backs. The wait for triage nurse always a thing to look forward to. Her soft caring hands wrapping the different bodily measurements equipment around your arms. I tell you, it is not a bad option.

Think about it!