Bear Cottage

Bear Cottage…

A place I never,

ever want to visit.

(But I’m so glad

Bear Cottage exists!)

BearCottage opened in 2001,

on St Patrick’s Day. 

The idea of the cottage came

from Drs John Yu

and Michael Stevens,

 after they heard of similar places

 in the UK.

Bear Cottage is a

palliative care unit…

 for kids.

Kids who may not live

to see their next birthday. 

Kids who are fighting

a losing battle…

 Kids who may never go home.

Inside the cottage,

kids get the medical care

they need and parents get

the assistance they need.

They live in a Manly cottage,

by the sea,

and every attempt is made

 to bring enjoyment and happiness

to the children in the cottage. 

Bear Cottage is the only

children’s hospice in NSW. 

Bear Cottage cost $10 million

to build and every cent

was donated by the community.

Each year, The Cottage needs

 $2.5 million to operate. 

Again, everything comes

from the general public. 

The families who need

Bear Cottage, stay for free…

While most of us are happy

to be ignorant of places

 such as Bear Cottage,

the families who need it,

find a welcoming home-like

environment where they are

helped to celebrate life…

to create as many

happy memories as they can…

before time runs out.

Bear Cottage - an incredible facility. 

Read more at their website.

A Close Shave

I was sitting in a staff meeting…

paying attention

and showing enthusiasm…

when something

grabbed my attention.

 One of the ladies at work

was going to shave her hair. 

Off. 

She’s been living with leukaemia

 for ten years and needed to

do something big

to mark the anniversary.

  I let the idea float around

 my head a while

and then headed home.

I couldn’t think of a single reason

 not to join her. 

Not one. 

My sisters couldn’t give me

a reason not to, either…

It seemed I had no choice. 

 With my baby nephew

fighting liver cancer

and boasting a cleanly shaven head….

I had plenty of reasons

 TO shave my hair. 

 So, the next morning,

I surrended my hair. 

 A few days later,

my hair was plaited

and three little sets

of fingers each cut off

a section of my hair. 

Dad snipped some off…

and I was left

with chunky hair

at the back of my head. 

 The next day,

my hair was full of plaits…

Kids from my class revelled

in the chance to cut

 their teacher’s hair…

and I was left

with scrappy, messy hair.

  Not for long. 

Clippers soon fixed that. 

 In a blur of crazy moments,

my hair was puddled

on the floor and I was wearing

a short number two style. 

It was amazing! I

 felt younger.

I felt fresh.

I felt clean.

And, I felt good

for supporting a friend

and for supporting Dexter. 

It was amazing to feel

the wind lift the tiny tufts

 of hair on the back

of my head. 

 It was incredible to feel

the water drip through

my shaven hair in the shower…

 Oh, and two flicks of a towel

and my hair was ready to go!

Now, almost a week later

and I can feel how much

my hair has grown.

I love it…

though I have to admit

to the greys

I just cannot cover!

Oh,so many missed days!

Nevermind!

I do have a question

I would like you to ponder…

There are three toilets

in the main area of my workplace.

  There are about 35 of us

there on any particular day. 

 We are predominantly women,

with about 7 males among us.

Here is my question:

What is the likelihood

of me walking into a toilet

 immediately after someone

has left skiddies on the bowl? 

 It would seem

 that the chances

would be low….

But no. 

Remember, there are 7 men

 and about 28 women. 

At the risk of being sexist,

 I am assuming

the skiddie-leaver

is one of the guys.

 There are three toilets.

 There should be a very,

very slim chance

of me walking into

the stinky fumes l

eft from a colleague

 – and yet,

this is not the case. 

 I stumble into and out of

 these tainted cubicles

with increasing frequency.

 I no longer try

to remain polite

and tough it out

– I now walk backwards,

leaving the stinky environment

without fearing how

the culprit may feel,

should they be watching.

 How is it, that

I am drawn so often

to the stinky toilets?

And, how can I change this?

If you didn't know,

I've been neglecting the Cow

and have been spending my time here: http://lovedexter.weebly.com/index.html instead.