Susan

I first met Susan in February 2009 - just weeks before Jaz died. She had been sent by the agency to see how we all got along before being rostered on as a carer.I liked her immediately.

Susan was only a few years older than me, but wasn't one for the type of aesthetic maintenance my peers and I tend to pursue, her hair was grey, her teeth not all present, her figure comfortable - and I warmed to her immediately. She was so relaxed, honest and delightful, we called the agency and said there was no need for us to meet anyone else at all - we wanted Susan.

By this point, Geoff and I were alternating nights to sleep in Jaz's room. She was now incapable of moving herself and needed to be rolled every 2-3 hours to avoid pressure sores. She was a on a full-face breathing machine for five hours a night that would alarm if she stopped breathing (that happened....) and she needed regular suctioning for her excessive secretions which also inhibited her oxygen uptake. Nights were busy.

I had been given a case manager now Jaz's status had been changed to palliative (the system is so bad, they want to be sure there's an end point before they give you help - I mean, really??!) She said that as Geoff and I were both working full time and caring for three other kids as well as Jaz, we needed someone to come in and do a couple of nights a week so we could sleep - and that's how we got Susan.

On the first night, it was really strange to go to bed knowing someone is in your house. I'd brought home some trash magazines for Susan to read - which she politely declined as she only read the bible. Eeek! I thought. Have we made a mistake? As atheists, I had just discovered Susan was a devout Christian and part of the Hill Song Church. But no, no need to panic - we were both very tolerant of each others beliefs.

Susan would also come on Saturday mornings and go with Geoff to the pool with George, Jaz and Elle while I took Sass to the supermarket. She'd arrive back at our place and announce to me that she couldn't believe she was being paid to have this much fun! She even bent the strict agency rules and was happy for us not to have a second baby sitter for the other three kids if we went out.

As we got to know Susan, we discovered her amazing past - rather than this post go on forever, here are the jaw-dropping bullet points:

• She married at 18 in Vegas and she and her husband discovered they couldn't have children
• So they fostered 14 boys aged within about 8 years of each other - all at the same time from when they got them until they were adults. None were short term care.
• They lived in a purpose built house in northern Victoria
• Her husband drove  and repaired trucks (yes, two jobs) to support them. He was a non-believer, had been raised in an orphanage and was ex-military.
• They bought every one of those 14 boys a house!!! Susan's husband believed debt was a good motivator to work - so they raised a deposit for every single boy (Susan did say the houses weren't expensive - needing about a $10k deposit each - but what an effort!)
• Susan's husband died of cancer a few years prior and she had also had breast cancer
• She was still very much involved with all 14 boys - now all having left home but gathered at her small suburban house often for meals and sleep overs.

Susan gave us this painting called 'Eyes'.
 She did it while travelling in Malaysia as a teenager
.

And here's the rest of the story:

• Jaz loved Susan, she was kind, caring, funny, positive and upbeat
• Susan prayed for Jaz and was sure she wouldn't die - and was devastated when she did
• Susan's cancer came back. I went to visit her and met her mum who was taking care of her
• She had a palm tree in her front room, covered in fairy lights which I admired. She said I could have it after she'd gone.
• The agency rang me in October. Susan had died.
• Her mum wrote to me and asked me to pop around to pick up the tree.

Susan was a living angel and an incredible role model for humanity. I think of her often.

The tree. We love it!

Summer Bag

No – not me in a bikini looking like porridge poured into a body stocking – not that kind of ‘summer bag’. I mean the hand/shoulder/tote type bag.

I picked up a couple of great ones when we were in Malaysia. ‘Timmy’ Choos as Susan, who I used to work with calls them. But we noted, this recalcitrant, lesser-known brother does insist on using Jimmy’s name. How very bold!

The guy at the night market in Penang recognised a women who was absolutely, positively going to buy a bag. So after I’d selected a couple, we were onto the business of negotiating cash.

‘Look,’ he said, flicking a cigarette lighter and waving the flame dangerously close to the paler of the bags I’d selected, ‘Real leather’.

Now I’m no leather expert, but having recently purchased a leatherette jacket from Portman’s, I recognised the soft-to-the-touch material immediately.

‘Mate, it’s polyurethane,’ I said flatly. ‘I know it’s not leather, you know it’s not leather, so let’s just talk price, shall we?’

(Actually, I liked it better when things were vinyl. You could profess that seven vinyls gave their lives for that handbag! But polyurethanes just don’t work. And yes Mandy, I have used the word ‘leatherette’ which you hate, so feel free to give me an alternative…)

Anyway, back to Penang: Deflated, the guy popped the lighter back in his pocket and we did the deal.

I’ve been using the black one for winter – and losing bits of that bloody fringe everywhere, especially getting them jammed in the seat belt buckle in the car! But really, you can hardly tell, can you? And for less than $40 each, I’m more than happy to have a few ‘Timmy’s’!