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“Grandma”: a story

August 5, 2019 2 Comments

Georgia MacKenzie

Spending time with her grandkids was one of Barbara’s favourite activities. And so her heart swelled with love, as she glanced in her rear view mirror, to see four pairs of eyes and four small faces grinning back at her.

“All belted up?”

“Yes!”

They sat two-by-two, with the two youngest in the front tier and the two eldest at the back. Two sets of fairy wings. One tutu. One pirate sword.

They pulled out of the driveway and off into the streets, zipping through the lines of traffic, off swiftly to their destination. Off to try another café.

Grandma might not have been the most athletic, or the most agile, but she definitely came close to being the most wise. Her house was filled floor to ceiling with piles upon piles of books. And oh how she loved those books. Filled with adventures and romance and the collective wisdom of so many authors. Wisps of spiderweb blurred the line between book and floor. But if you dared to move one, she would know.

“There’s a system. Don’t mess with the system.”

[Read more…]

Filed Under: Education, Fiction, Medical Humanities, Writing

“I’m on my way, Nan”: a story

July 1, 2019 Leave a Comment

Drew Davey

Ngaia has come home.

“Nan first,” she says. “I’m on my way, Nan”

She has thick waves of hair, naturally parted. Her eyes are as dark as the soil that she walks on, oblivious to the million pieces that shatter underneath her every step. A forgotten smile paints itself on her freckled face, rose-pink lips stretching to each corner, forming a number of creases on either side and an indentation on the right side of her cheek. A smile that was lost for so many years. A smile that should’ve come sooner. Regret sinks in.

Before she knows it, she’s at the river. It seems to have carved its way through the greenery even more deeply than she had remembered. She offers a reflection to the towering giants that sit along its bank. They hug the earth in such a way that they can move their limbs in every direction, picking and choosing to let the sun in. It’s like a game to them. A rustling against one another that resonates all through the forest. A welcome back performance. Just for her.

[Read more…]

Filed Under: Education, Fiction, Maori, Medical Humanities, Te Ao Maori, Writing

Cystic Fibrosis and ‘Five Feet Apart’

May 6, 2019 2 Comments

Maisy Millwater and Liz Breslin

Maisy Millwater is 14 years old and lives in Hawea Flat, New Zealand. She and her brother, Stan, have Cystic Fibrosis (CF). Here she talks with Liz Breslin about the newly-released film, Five Feet Apart. The film (adapted from the novel by Racheal Lippencott) follows Stella and Will, two young people with CF. The film’s title refers to the distance CF patients are advised to keep from one another in order to prevent cross-infections.

Liz Breslin: So, Five Feet Apart … did you like it?

Maisy Millwater: If I didn’t have CF I probably would’ve, but it reminded me, kind of. It didn’t give me much hope for my future. She [Claire Wineland, who consulted on the movie] died last year on the second of September, which is the day after [Maisy’s pet dogs] Evie and Obi’s birthday and the day before my friend McKenzie’s birthday.

LB: So if you didn’t have CF you would have liked it, maybe. But you’ve never not had CF, so how do you know?

MM: I had a doctor ask me once, how long have I had CF for. [Huge laughter.] I was like, um, it’s genetic. [Huger laughter.]

LB: What did the doctor say?

MM: I can’t remember but I was just like – [face palm].

Maisy Millwater and Bobo
Maisy Millwater and her horse Bobo

[Read more…]

Filed Under: Adolescent health, Cystic Fibrosis, Fiction, Film, Review

“All went lame; all blind”

November 12, 2018 2 Comments

Sue Wootton

RegenerationRegeneration by Pat Barker was first published in 1991. It is the first of three novels (known collectively as The Regeneration Trilogy) set during and after the First World War, and explores the experiences of British officers suffering from ‘shell shock’ who received treatment at Craiglockhart Hospital near Edinburgh.

Regeneration centres on the radically new treatment provided at the time by the real-life psychiatrist and neurologist W. H. R. Rivers, whose approach was based on his research into nerve regeneration. Craiglockhart patients included the poets Wilfred Owen and Sigfried Sassoon, who also feature in Barker’s novel.

Wilfred Owen

Regeneration is a terrific, absorbing read. In lucid, measured prose, Barker brings alive both the suffering of the soldiers and the specific challenges faced by hospital staff. She vividly conveys contemporary attitudes to war and patriotism, and medical theories about shell shock and its treatment. She also brings alive the setting of Craiglockhart, where, in real life, Wilfred Owen began to compose his poem “Dulce et Decorum Est” in 1917. The title is from a line by the Roman poet Horace. Owen uses the whole quote to conclude his poem. Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori: ‘it is sweet and honourable to die for your country’.

This poem always bears rereading. It never loses its power to remind us that the choice to wage war has a terrible price. On the centenary anniversary of Armistace Day, a hundred years since the guns at long, long last fell silent on the Western Front, we can perhaps best honour those thousands who suffered by reflecting on Owen’s call to question the ‘high zest’ of adversarial political and patriotic rhetoric. This is a poem for peace. [Read more…]

Filed Under: Fiction, History, Poetry

“There’s no science for goodbye”

September 24, 2018 1 Comment

Sue Wootton

Aspiring Daybook by Annabel Wilson describes a year in the life of a young New Zealander, Elsie Winslow, whose carefree travels in Europe are interrupted by a phone call:

A phone call in the middle of the night. Not a good sign.
Out of context, the wrong time, too early or too late.
Malevolent omen. So often the sound of bad news.

Aspiring Daybook

And it is bad news. Elsie’s brother has cancer. She boards a long haul flight, heading home to help look after him. Time, place, light – all these reliable fundamentals seem to be falling apart. “I’m on a plane, going forward in time, back into the past … Today is New Year’s Day, and it’s getting erased.” Elsie’s journal becomes a kind of touchstone, or navigation tool, for piecing together a new reality on the other side of this catastrophic news.  [Read more…]

Filed Under: Bereavement, Death, Fiction, Poetry, Review

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