Scrubs to Couture

Dannii Minogue Wanna Be to Nurse Craigy

When I was a little boy and day dreamt of what I wanted to be when I grew up I would always stumble through a list of professions I wanted to do, but what was repetitive in my head was that I wanted to help people. I wanted to be a lawyer or a magistrate as injustice was/is a pet peeve and was something dear to my heart. I actually really wanted to be my favourited performer on my favourite Tv show at the time. 

When I was 6 years old, I desperately wanted to be Danielle Minogue or marry her, I felt singing and looking amazing would help people too.Dannii was the most popular girl on Australia TV! Young Talent Time was my favourite show and Dannielle was my favourite gal. I always knew Dannielle would grow up to have an incredible life and career.

Infact I had an amazing career on stage in my town and before my voice broke, I was poached rather ferociously by the Anglican Church to join their choir- I preferred their choir robes to my Catholic (tight arse) choice of no robes. 

I swear to god the day I was born a midwife spat into my new born mouth.I think there was something planted in me that would one day bloom into a big ol Nurse who wanted to storm troop through the wards cure everyone and make that “clicky noise” when I shook a thermometer just like my aunty used to do… No matter how hard i shook that mongrel thing I couldn’t get it to CLICK!!!.. little did I know she had arthritic wrists and the thermometer was innocent.

I was a devout “A Country Practice” and “The Flying Doctors” fan and in particular LOVED Georgie Parker’s character “Lucy” . Lucy was super nurse to me and I wanted to affect people’s lives like she did and the best patient advocate like she was. 
  

After my parents passed away in 1990 & 1991, I was talking to my Aunty one day about my life dreams and I recall telling her I wasn’t too clear on what I would become. As if my mother was channeling and spoke through Aunty Robyn she almost robotically answered .. “Craig, you will be a Nurse”. I was left feeling a little dazed, I had many relatives in the Nursing profession and as a kid I helped out with my father before he passed away- but never really entertained the idea of being a saintly, inspiring, clicky wristed Nurse!. I never felt I would be worthy of such status. I felt my Dannii dreams fading, good thing as I was fast approaching 5ft10, then sky rocketed to 6ft2 and looking like a rugby player, albeit a retired one. 

I was 18 years old, I was recovering from a serious bout of Glandular Fever- my throat almost seized up and I almost choked to death one night. I had gone to the country to stay with friends for two weeks and it ended up being a year. I was annoyed that after my trial HSC exams I was still not cleared to resume the hectic timetable for the big final exams. I had loved living in the country again and wanted to stay. 

I had signed up for a course in aged care and an incentive was that I was to be paid whilst I trained on the job. I had found a place to live, I was studying like crazy and I was best mates with the Director of Nursing daughter, who was also my age she had a raging crush on me. I broke her heart after a drunken night out after a yet another gruelling evening shift. Georgie begged me to come out drink until 4 am and boy did i come out!!! I bought the night to an abrupt end , I had confessed I was gay. I was expecting her to have already guessed, I had guessed wrong! she cried for 2 hours non stop! and oh by the way and we were due back at work at 6am.

By the time 7am rolled around we were giggling and carrying on like drunken pork chops, the DON/Mum standing at the end of the corridor screaming “I can smell you BOTH from here”.

I worked such  hours and heavy manual lifting and industrial strength nappy changes.I was in heaven when I was writing my reports and listening to the golden oldies stories but I was a young kid and my peers knew I wasnt destined to stay there for all my career. I applied for a job at Royal Prince Alfred Hospital in Sydney and I put every effort and prayer into my application. The process was long and I waited.. and waited.

After an exam and a couple of interviews I was whittled down from over 4,000 applications from around the southern hemisphere to the last 80. I suited up for my final interview and I was carrying a leather man bag, slicked my hair( yes was even grown to my shoulders) , spritzed with Joop (yes it was THAT long ago)  and pressed my dimples in a little deeper, smiled and charmed those old boiler panelists so much they thought I was sent from heaven.

I remember the day I got the letter stating I had been accepted, I immediately though of my parents and wished they had lived to see this moment as I felt the tears rumble to the surface, I put my smooth chin ( no beard till I was 27yrs old) up and BEAMED. I was to present to the Nurses Quarters at RPAH in a months time. My housemate had been accepted to go to the UK and work and we parted on our big journeys. Minogue music would go on to take me away from the reality of my nursing career. 

I wanted to save the world and make a difference. I still do - most days.

Nurse Craigy: A Wrong Royal Prank - A nurses perspective.

In loving memory of Natalie.

As many of you know, my friend/colleague passed away last friday from cancer. She was 36 years old and taken too soon. I tweeted about her last week upon hearing the news that she had passed away as I wanted her to not be a nameless statistic that cancer had taken.

The past week has felt like a lifetime has passed but tomorrow morning her fiancee, her family and friends will say farewell to Natalie. I have cried many times over the last 2.5 years for Natalie from the anger that she was diagnosed to upon hearing she lost her battle and I know tomorrow at her funeral will be no exception to floods of tears.

Although I personally do not know her loving partner nor her family, all of us from work agreed that we wanted to attend her funeral as we want her loved ones to know (by our presence there tomorrow) how much we love Nat and how we will never forget her. 

When people pass away you generally hear ” oh they were such a nice person” and I am no different here with Nat. She TRULY was one of the nicest people I had the privilege to meet. She would LOVE to hear gossip but she never said anything nasty about anyone and quite often had a simplistic view on why people would behave in the way they do. Nat never argued, name called nor can any of us think of anyone uttering a bad word about her in the whole time she worked with us- You all know how bitchy Nurses can be too!. 

I have found myself saying over the past week that If anyone was to be granted a miracle during such a brave battle during their cancer fight it was beautiful Natalie. Nat radiated such a gorgeous energy, did her work and she never complained. 

During her later stages of her short beautiful life, suffering excruciating and debilitating pain Nat never wallowed in self pity and like the hurdles she had faced previously, she came to accept that death was coming for her and she was not frightened. This did  strangely bring a slight sense of comfort to me  knowing she had come to terms with death and I can assure you I personally couldn’t guarantee that I would be so gracious. This is a testament to the amazing traits of such an amazing character.

About 3 months ago, I saw Natalie at work. I was told she was coming to clean out her locker and she had resigned a couple of months before that. The day she emptied her locker I knew that day would be the final time I would see her. 

I was preparing myself to see her, Nat had ended her chemo and radiation as it was taking its toll on her body and pain of it was unbearable. I was walking the corridors not making any eye contact with anyone at the risk of someone seeing me hold back the tears. I had no words prepared and I was so scared as to what to say. 

Without any warning I turned the corner I see Nat walking towards me, she seemed vague, was looking around the corridors and making her way to the exit. I was quiet and stood still … I didn’t speak but Natalie looked into my eyes and merely said… “Craig!… Give me a hug” .. a hug I will NEVER forget and there is almost some humour to that hug… 

About a year before hand I was standing at the staff allocation board and I saw Nat walking towards me she veered off and stood right next to me .. I saw out the corner of my eye that Natalie was looking up at me… as I turned to her I say ” hey Nat! what are you up to” .. She looked straight into my soul ( im sure ) and she said ” Nothing, I just have this feeling to hug you” without hesitation I said opened my arms and said “hug me now” …. ” hmmmmm Nah Craig the moment has passed” .. I have to admit I was kind of bummed she opted out as I would have hugged her ten times a day if she asked.

As Natalie hugged me that last time I was immediately reminded (mid hug) to that year before and now I was finally getting my hug I had so desperately wanted and waited a year for. When Natalie had first left us to have cancer related surgery I was in Europe and had learnt of her diagnosis/ surgery after I had returned. I was shattered for her then and when she returned she not once ever asked for sympathy and her ability to get back to work with such ease never prompted me to even consider pitying her but my admiration for her courage and her strength further sky rocketed.

Despite her now inability to have children, Natalie just simply responded ” maybe it wasn’t meant for me”. I cursed every religious Icon for allowing this to happen to such a saintly girl ( I STILL curse them) . How she felt really about the cancer diagnosis I don’t think I will ever know as Natalie just focused on everyday and accepted that this had happened to her. She amazed me and continued to do so until her last day on this planet. 

We were all to have a chance to lunch with Natalie before she passed but readmission into the hospice prevented the luncheon to happen and she died the day before we were due to meet. I had heard many amazing stories of her partner who cared for Natalie and was an incredible man by her side all the way. It always made my heart swell to know such love was with her all that time. Natalie deserved this love. If I allow myself I let myself go to that place of acknowledging that If it happened to me now I wouldn’t have that partner by my side and that breaks my heart. I do however remind myself that at least there are real men out there like Natalie’s partner who do exist and do not runaway from such trauma and heartache. 

Just to leave you with an example of how truly amazing and selfless she was till the end- a close friend had gone to see her in the hospice and our friend ( who has know Nat the longest and visited her every week for months and months) eventually broke down in front of Nat and cried her heart out. She could see Natalie’s decline and she just couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. Tammy apologised for crying and said to Nat “this is not about me, I know it” .. Natalie looked at our friend and concerned about her sobbing friend… said ” this IS about you too” … 

I do take comfort in the hope that she is with her beautiful mother now somewhere and cancer/pain free. I just cannot shake that feeling that she should be HERE cancer and pain free.

It was awful for many of us who did not get to see her in the hospice before her death but she will never be forgotten nor will her amazing hug she let me finally have. 

Rest in peace our beautiful Natalie 

x

Fashions Faux Foe Vs Fashions Friend

As Sydney starts to chill and we edge towards winter, ironically the Spring/Summer collections are being tweaked and finished for the start of Fashion Week. The temperature plummets as does the enthusiasm of some invitees I call them ‘the Faux” whilst for others- “The Enthusiasts”, it is when their core temperature will rise and the moment they live for is upon them for yet another year or the next 30 minutes of a shows collection.

There are You can categorise yourself as a faux or enthusiast judged on your excitement level when you receive your invite and your behaviour during the actual show.

Starting with The Faux, they are as chilly as the changing season and their air kisses barely make the mercury pulsate on the thermometer. They could not care less about being at a fashion event and are not afraid to show it and can amp it up a notch in the company of an enthusiast.

A Faux  will perch and stare down their noses through the eye frames that are created by mostly European Fashion houses. Whether they need glasses for reading or for seeing is not relevant.  Some may or may not fit or afford a Chanel suit but by god they will wear the label in any other way possible even by way of perfume- this is applied to enthusiasts too.

Some of them are like reluctant parishioners, dragged to church sitting there and feigning an interest whenever a camera or the gaze of the Designer is cast upon them. Designers are the high Priests or Priestess’s of the congregation, held in the highest of regard by those whom subscribe to their holy “cloth”. The Faux and The Enthusiast can either secretly believe that the Designer can be a satanic symbol.  The uber Faux can be so evil in that they feel that they themselves are not of the heavenly calibre to afford these designs and they can feel condemned to fashion hell for not having the figure or finesse to wear them- but they wouldn’t dare show a lapse in their super human ability to uphold their impenetrable exteriors.

The faux sit and eye the models that grace these runways and consciously or not can compete in a battle with the models in a face-off - who wears the greatest scowl- the models are the superior beings after all they are adorned in couture. The faux acknowledge they themselves are more likely to be able to afford or obtain for free from their friend -the designer.

Ironic that the warmer tones of Spring/Summer collections are being shown and the faux will remain staunch when on show as their icy and motionless expressions, remain jaded: as it is NEVER out of style. With a blatant disrespect for the matter the hours of neither work nor the detail in the garments seem to ever please or enthral as they are passed by on the runway.  The thought of wearing the designers clothing may rarely cross their mind nor would they feel compelled to even wear the designer in any effort of support.

Their ‘uniform’ consists of various hues that range from grey to black, they colour block- Literally! No colours, they completely block them, no prints and if black lipstick didn’t render them “witchy they would coat their barely present pressed lips with it.

 Anna Wintour the editor of “Vogue” in the U.S has a global army whom tries to emulate her. Ms Wintour has her uniform for the battlegrounds of fashion week and she is almost militant in her styling and with her gaze. She is ready for battle with her helmet hair, her armour of floral prints, only leaving her arms to be quite vulnerable and the fur of an animal she could kill with her steely stare alone. Anna Wintour will often arm herself with a Talley, in the form of the ample Andre Leon Talley. Talley is flamboyant gentleman, who is, demure as a kitten, swipes like a lion and as venomous than the deadliest snake.

The “Army of Anna Wintour” is too, poised for battle. They emulate the arbiter of fashion, they have their helmet hair dos and their protective eyewear that shield them from harsh light and gives the room a hint that they resemble some importance in the fashion world.

The Enthusiasts are fashions friend and friends till the bitter end. They see and appreciate the art of the collections and as if they themselves created them from scratch can feel a sense of familiarity with them too. Sadly it seems to be the trend that the Enthusiasts tend to be positioned further from the runway, only as we rarely see a smiling face or a face in total awe of the show in the media. To position them so far from view is quite possibly a conscious decision as to not be tempted to charge towards the couture and be could up in a moment of hysterical blindness and (earth shatteringly) man handle the collection. They applaud in a restrained manner as to not aggravate the wasp personality traits of the faux and frustratingly remain seated when the Designer takes their bow at the end of the show.

They are the opposite of the Faux, these people are the ones who can live for a year on the whiff of an embellishment on the chest, shoulder or hipbone and gorge on the sparkle and the sound of a floor length gown being taken down the catwalk weakens their knees.

The enthusiast will race to their seats especially if they spot a goodie bag. The bags sustain them for the week, a Fashion Week survival kit. They are too excited to eat much any way but they will nibble on the freebie until the next show and the glasses of bubbles consumed are purely for hydration.

They envy the models life and are capable of perceiving that this is always how glamorous she is and that her make up is this flawless every morning when she rolls out of bed at 11 am and collects ten thousand dollars.

They are like the excited “Aunties” of the collections, the show is almost like the designer giving birth to these precious “babies” that are to be loved, adored and handled like a newborn baby. After all in the lead up to these fashion week shows, the enthusiasts are the ones whom are paddling in the deep end of the endorphin pool, pondering what to expect and predicting the colour palettes of their favourite designers.

It is note worthy that the Faux and Enthusiasts can share a love of gay men. A gay man is the perfect accessory for any fashion related event whether it is a fashion week showcase or a shopping excursion; they have the stamina and endurance to last the week or the whole day respectively.

An enthusiast or a Faux will sit there dying to tell anyone that will listen that they have a “stylist”, in a way they are correct as the homosexual man is mentally undressing his “doll” and picturing her in all that walks in the shows.

The gay man will encourage an enthusiast and inflate their ego (in an honest and heartfelt way) by way of nudging when something fitting for the wardrobe glides past them both. It is meant to be when the enthusiast locks eyes with her gay man; the timing precision is flawless as are the synchronised gasps.

 

* Written by a self confessed, heterosexually impaired enthusiast 

Its been a while TUMBLR!

I was tempted to start this post with today’s announcement of Dannii Minogue’s Madam Tussards statue reveal this morning in Melbourne BUT considering my very last post was Dannii ….. that would be too predictable. 

I have been neglecting my blog for many months now and here is what I have been up to… in no particular order

1. Became a Godfather- bucketlist tick for SURE! 

2. Started a Relationship and …………………………………………………became single again

3. Asked to be a part of an incredible foundation that is targeting bullying online (more to come from this for SURE) 

4. Sketched

5. had a beautiful Xmas

6. Spent time with peeps I adore and Love

7. MET and Christened the Godson

8. Working too much and alot of weekends

9. Almost gave up on men

10. Met some amazing people

11. posted sketches online

12. drank more in the last 4 months than the last 2 years

13. continued PT sessions…. could have done better on programme see previous

14. Remained a hopeful and Romantic person….. most of the time hahaha

15. Started a canvas painting