Dear Perth Wildcats

 

I am exactly one day younger than the current captain, Jesse Wagstaff. The only 3 differences between him and I are around 60 kg, 60 cm and 6 rings. I have followed the Wildcats since I can remember. Watching guys like Watto and Ellis in the old white or gold jerseys, before turning to the likes of Grace and Crawford in red in the 90's. I am getting old! One thing I will add at this point is I was born with spina-bifida. When I was around 8 years old, I was introduced to the sport of wheelchair basketball. I was immediately hooked! Sure, watching Ellis, Watto, Grace etc on tv is great. But it does something else for mental health when someone sees something cool and can participate. Playing the game, even at the state league level, kept my mind on something other than the battles of life, even if we lost the game or I played badly that night. I would end up playing until I was about 33 years old. 

When I was 11, I needed a plate inserted into my left hip. This would be my first surgery where I was informed and included in the entire planning process. This was also the point where I was told from my orthopaedic surgeon I will never be able to walk, much less play pro sport. He went on to say that neither will 99.5% of people play pro sports either. This one was a tough pill to swallow for me. It took me years to get around this. But when I eventually did, I turned my attention from playing to the possibility of being the coach or CEO for Perth Wildcats. Over the next few years, life happened and threw a lot of curve balls my way. I would lose focus of this main dream of mine. Until a lazy Friday afternoon in August 2016.

I was scrolling twitter after a mental health collapse only a few months after my grandfather died. His loss left a devastating blow to me and I had nothing left to give, much less a reason to get out of bed. That was the one thing I desperately needed at that point. On this Friday afternoon, I saw a tweet from the Perth Wildcats. They were seeking applications for game night volunteers, ahead of the upcoming basketball season. My brain came alive for the first time in a long time. I can do that, I said to myself. I scrapped together a bad version of my CV, frantically messaged a couple of friends asking if they would be a reference and submitted an application for the role.

A few days later, I was offered a time for a first interview. I found the venue, the Bendat Basketball Centre, where I had never been before. I then stumbled my way through the first interview. That is still my opinion of this one. I was a nervous wreck. A few days after this, I was emailed an offer for a second interview with their CEO. 

The day of the interview, I needed to reschedule a medical appointment and gracefully, they let me, even at the last minute. It was a rainy day and I dress practically. Therefore I was not wearing my suit, but rather my waterproof Fremantle Dockers jacket. Even with the rescheduled appointment and everything flowing on time for me, I still only just made it in time. Through a reasonably lengthy interview, I would be offered a voluntary role, not on game night, but in the administration with Perth Lynx, the women's team. I would then be within the Perth Wildcats and Perth Lynx office every week throughout the 2016/2017 season, contributing my skills and effort wherever required on the day. It showed me the true hard work that goes on with a professional sports organisation. It hass also given me a lot more grace with organising my own Dockers memberships! Within this role, I would be challenged, trusted, pushed but ultimately, an experience that will positively stick with me until the day I die. One of my biggest learnings is the importance of having others things to get away from it when the stress gets too much. I learned that these people are just normal people with cool jobs and incredible discipline. They hurt, stress, mess up just like all people do. 

Mentally speaking, I am an empath, meaning I feel too much. This means I need to control myself around high stress situations. No point telling me not to feel emotional. I am softer than scrambled eggs and I am at peace with that. It is what makes me me. As a result of the above mentioned, Wildcats and Lynx basketball is not just another game for me, like other sports games are for me. I still know a lot of people within the Wildcats organisation. 

This particular season had a huge amount of change and challenges. New ownership, new coaching staff, something called Covid 19 and as normal in basketball, some new players in and old players out. This outstanding club has made playoffs for 35 years in a row, since 1986, the year I was born. It's literally all I have ever known. Life, death, taxes, Wildcats in the playoffs. Due to a few unexpected losses, they found themselves in a difficult position: a must-win game against one of the most potent offenses in the league, minus one of our most efficient offense players, due to injury. Win and the streak continues and we all breathe a sigh of relief. Unfortunately they lost. By just a couple of points, in overtime, no less. I couldn't hold it in. I cracked like a raw egg and the tears flowed, even sitting right here watching from my laptop at home. It was a tough and bitter pill to swallow. For all the reasons I have said, for me, Wildcats and Lynx basketball is never going to be just another game again. I immediately switched my thoughts to some friends working there for their futures. Such is the high stress nature of pro sport, especially when something like a 35 year playoff streak is over. It was a rough night sleep for me. 

A mate whom I have worked with there messaged me last night. He said he is ok because he knows the nature of pro sports. I hope this statement is all there is to it. This has helped me resolve it as well, so thank you for that mate. 

To this day, I still hold on to a dream to be the first disabled coach in the NBL.

To finish, my hope now is in a positive way, this loss can lift the heavy pressure of continuing the playoff streak off the shoulders of everyone. It's a new day to start again. Bring on season 2022/23! 

Giving up is not an option,

Perry

International Day of People With a Disability – some thoughts

 

Today, Friday December 3, is International Day of People with a Disability. My physical disability is obvious and has been since birth. I was born with spina-bifida (myelomeningocele, the most severe grading). I have used a wheelchair since 5 years old and will require the use of one full-time for the rest of my life. With that much of my disability, I am genuinely fine with it, especially at 35 years old now.

Now I don’t want to come across as a grumpy person here, though if you ask my mother, I still have my share of grumpy moments. However, I am not very excited at this year’s International Day of People With a Disability. I am holistically just tired. Recently I had a very close scare with a very serious physical health issue (I’m fine but only just!). That alone has left me exhausted and mentally scared. I’m a higher risk for most things, including covid, which we are all aware of now.

Not much has seemed to effect systemic changes for the disability community at large or even for myself at an individual level. The disability pension has not changed in 10+ years, yet a quick trip to the nearest fuel station will tell you cost of living is going up quickly. As are the prices of food, rent and other basic necessities in life. While on this, we need to come together to co-design and modify workplaces to accommodate people with disabilities. We are 20% of the population. We are more than just wheelchairs and walking frames. We are deaf, blind, mute, mentally ill and sometimes we have invisible to the eye disabilities. But if you look long enough, even they will be visible.

I am blessed that I do have enough health now to be able to work part-time, especially with the aid of the internet allowing me to do some work from home when my health isn’t quite right at the last minute, which happens a lot. What we require is a potential employer to look at me like one did in 2016 and ask what my health issues are and ask how they can help me get the best out of me. I’m happy to say that person is still a friend.

We need to slow down and take a minute to simply ask how you can help us get the best out of ourselves and life in general. My generation needs to stop staring at our phones and look up and have a small (I’m talking 3 minutes) conversation with disabled people. You do have time for this as it will save time for everyone in the long-term. We are very capable of communication. Access and inclusion is not too bad here in Perth where I live, but it can be better always.

If healthy/non-disabled people helped us with this, we could fix this so much easier and then we may not even need dates like these to showcase us, which to be honest I find a bit weird.

 

Giving up is not an option,

 

Perry

"I'm Not Okay, I Promise." - My Chemical Romance

 

I’m Not Okay, I Promise

 

Hi, my name is Perry Cunningham and I am not okay. I guarantee you did not hear anyone say their name followed by I am not okay today. Well, if you know me well at all, you’ll know I am softer than butter emotionally. You’ll also know I don’t bother trying to hide or lie about my emotions. My current psychologist loves this and says it makes it simple to work with me.

Today, September 9, in Australia, is RUOK day. Like, seriously? Do we need the Federal Government creating a campaign to tell us to check in with people on a certain date? Apparently, we do. I find it extremely insincere and cringeworthy and frankly, I hate this day. As I said in the opening sentence, I am not okay. But before we even get to that point, we need a definition of okay. I get told a lot that it is ok to not be ok. What does that even mean? I’m not sure. To me it sounds genuine enough for people to state there’s nothing “wrong” with not feeling ok. That much I can agree with.

If you have seen The Green Mile, there’s a scene where the guy on death row is talking to Tom Hanks and he simply looks him in the eye and says, “I’m tired boss, but mostly I’m tired of people being ugly to each other.” That has been me for the last 2 years at least. 2019 for me personally was hell on earth. I had at least 3 very big traumatic events (2 deaths, one relationship breakdown) and I still live with one of those events in my head daily. As a result, I am not okay. I am on 2 different medications, in psychology fortnightly and my gp whenever I need and finally have a diagnosis of C-PTSD. That means I live the movie of the trauma in my head daily. I need someone to change the channel, basically.

All this to say, I am not okay, even in the most basic definitions. Even the sound of my 1-year-old chihuahua barking freaks me out these days. Yes, I still get out of bed and I function in autopilot because at 35 years old, I feel like I have no other choice really. Especially due to the fact I live alone.

I don’t write this for pity or sympathy as I hate both of those things. I write this to plainly state that I am not okay. Safe but not okay. And to try and ask us all to re-think RUOK day, at least in Australia. We should be asking are you ok to our friends and family every day. But especially be asking this question to those in our lives we know deal with a lot and seem strong. Because as someone in this box, I guarantee you they’re tired, boss.

"They lied when they said the good die young" - Anberlin, Godspeed

 

“They lied when they said the good die young.” – Anberlin, Godspeed

 

I only discovered the song Godspeed by Anberlin in 2007, where later that year I would face and survive septicemia, where I would discover the true meaning of the title here. However, that time of my life is not the focus of today.

Today, August 29, 2021, marks exactly 21 years since I had a full spinal fusion in Royal Perth Hospital. I was 14 years old, and we had already had to cancel the pending surgery twice as things were not quite ready, including my own body.

I was born with spina-bifida, which can include a list of issues up to and including severe scoliosis. In my body, my spine was so badly curved that by only 14 years old, it was estimated to be curved at 120 degrees to the right. It was estimated by my orthopaedic surgeon, the great Jack O’Connor (google this name, seriously!) that I would only have 6 months of life left had I chose not to risk the surgery at all.

I had to undergo a whole lot of medical testing just to see if I was physically strong enough to deal with such a large operation. Later I would learn there were 2 surgeons tag-teaming the 12-hour ordeal as it’s physically impossible to ask that much of one surgeon. I had no idea about that until only recently, which makes it more ridiculous that I’m here 21 years later reflecting on it.

We, my surgeon, mother and I, signed the paperwork for consent with all the risks laid out to me, up to and including a 60% chance I wouldn’t survive the operation itself, an 80% chance I won’t survive the week post-surgery. However, in his honesty, Mr. O’ Connor did tell me the chance would be 0% of survival if we didn’t at least attempt the surgery. As someone who finds math a very simple thing, I remember being in his office in RPH and stating that I’m happy to go ahead with it, if he’s the one doing it and knowing that 40 is a lot higher than 0. I also signed the consent with one condition: they made a way for me to be able to watch the AFL grand final. I was not joking at all and to their credit, I watched the AFL grand final and still remember it.

So fast forward to Tuesday, August 29, 2000. The day I would literally have to face the fact I could die today. Or not. Well, I clearly didn’t. How? I really can’t tell you. But what I can tell you is life is ridiculously strange. I remember my surgeon coming to see me in my room at 5am and asking if I’m ready. I said I am not, but I never will be to face such a thing. He said I would see him later that night. I appreciated his positivity but could tell it was sincere and strong. I took that with me and off we went into the surgery.

So off I went into the RPH theatres, apparently. If you don’t understand that was sarcasm font, you have clearly never met me. Duh.

I remember 4 things of that first week: 1. The fact I was somewhat awake and not dead. 2. My uncle had phoned while working in Tanzania (west Africa) to see how I was. 3. A nurse in my care neglected me for an entire shift and my surgeon dealt with it. 4. My mother on that first night, even with me lying in traction (completely flat on my back), hand-fed me a roast chicken dinner. I clearly remember that meal and to this day, it was one of the strangest and best meals of my life. Basic medical science says if you eat anything under that much physical stress, you’re a high risk of choking and dying. Therefore, I was instructed to be nil by mouth. Apparently, mum said something along the lines of “he will be fine, he’s hungry, I’m helping him eat.” I was fine. To this day I trust her judgment with everything due to that one thing.

About a week later I would be transferred to the spinal unit at Shenton Park. I became a lot more alert and have clear memories of my uncle and another friend coming up nearly every night and sneaking in outside food. For that I’m always grateful in hospital as it’s one thing that’s barely improved.

Then it was time to go home. Like seriously? I’m going home after my full spinal fusion and I’m ok. Not a quadriplegic, no loss of brain function, totally fine.

I was well informed about the physical ordeal this surgery would have on my life, including never being able to ride roller coasters or horses again. However, I wasn’t well informed about the mental side of dealing with such a big thing. For the next six months, I would have to wear a brace that was extremely tight, have mum assist with all personal care, be lifted in and out of bed and basically all I could do myself was eat. One thing I grew inspiration from was having a tv at the end of my bed (thanks mum) and watching the Sydney Olympics, including Freeman winning the 400m gold medal. It was ridiculous. If she could do that, I can deal with this.

For the next 21 years, that’s pretty much how I try and live my life now. I do still look at professional athletes in that light – to a point. I’m well aware they’re just like a normal person, just with a really cool job and a ridiculously healthy body.

So to sum it all up, thanks Mr. O’ Connor, Mr. Ker and team. I hope you’re both enjoying your retirements well.

 

“Life is short, I want to live it well.” – Switchfoot, Live it well

My Mate At 48

 My Mate At 48

I'm not telling the internet my exact address because duh. However, for the purpose of this piece of writing, my house number is 68 and my mate's house is 48. Near on 7 years ago I moved into where I am now and I love it. I often saw this older man outside his house, in his front garden full of roses, nice grass and other plants and flowers. He is often seen using the tools necessary to do it all himself.

After a while of seeing him and admiring, we would start to talk to each other about life and things. Turned out we have a lot in common, despite a roughly 50 year age gap. A very nice human who often gave me home-grown fruit, let me pat his good dog (all dogs are good) and often had a nice word for me and some garden advice. I love how he would be so independent, even as he got older, he still maintained doing it all himself or with his wife's help, nobody else.

That's until recently. A couple of months ago, his wife would tell me he's been battling prostate cancer and unfortunately it returned with a vengeance. The doctors put him on a stronger medication with a plan to see how it goes in 3 months. I bumped into his wife while walking my puppy at the nearby park last week. I asked how he's going and she would tell me the medication hasn't worked at all. He's become gravely ill and has at the time of writing, about one more week left of life. 

So, to my mate at 48, who's name I never knew, thank you. Thank you for being a good mate of mine for the last 7 years of your great life. You've always been kind, loving and generous towards me and you have helped me in ways I am struggling to find accurate words for here. You always reminded me of what is important in life. Cheers to you for a life well lived mate. Rest easy.

Perry, your mate at 68.

“Four walls, a wash basin, prison bed” – Cold Chisel

 

“Four walls, a wash basin, prison bed” – Cold Chisel

 

I used to have a friend whom I could relate all my medical struggles with. No subject was off-limits, even though this friend is female, and I am male. One thing we often found together would be hospital admissions. We joked that we were in jail or prison, depending where you are from. The thing is, if you have had a fair amount of time in hospitals and have even a vague understanding of prisons, you should be able to understand the correlation of the two places.

For all the things I have been through medically, I am still a terrible person when injured/sick. That’s my own opinion of myself. The song ‘Restless’ by Switchfoot comes to mind here. I get irritable very easily. My last surgery only on August 22^nd comes to mind. I had neurological symptoms for about 2 weeks before I finally called an ambulance around 6pm on the 21^st because I felt like I would pass out and potentially not wake. I felt too faint to get anywhere under my own strength, even struggled from bedroom to bathroom, maybe 5 metres. Ambulance arrived and took blood pressure first. It was 155/90, which for a man of my size is very high. Two paramedics looked at each other as if to say, ‘we need to move it quick’. I knew when I saw that I did the right thing in calling an ambulance.

I got to the hospital and we would wait a fair while. But once I was moved around to the ED, things moved rather quick. They got a good handover from the paramedics, for which I am grateful. Immediately checked basic observations, which were obviously inconsistent and concerning. Then within a few minutes, there was blood and urine samples taken and an IV line put into my arm and a bag of iv fluids hung up. Then one of the ED doctors did a basic vision test where the patient is instructed to follow the doctor’s finger, moving only their eyes. I knew I would struggle with this. My vision the last few days was terrible and headache pain score was seriously 12/10. His finger was far left but my eyes went right. When this happened, he said it’s officially a neurology case and he wanted an urgent CT of both the head and abdominal shunt as soon as possible for confirmation. I was simultaneously scared and relieved in the same breath. Relieved because I knew I did the right thing in calling the ambulance and being in the emergency department. Scared because that one symptom proved to me, I would need my 8^th shunt revision surgery, and what’s more, in the middle of Covid-19 pandemic. Would I go home? No clue. Seriously. By about 4am he came back to confirm my shunt had problems in multiple spots, from neck down and that I would need surgery today. Me: you mean now? Doctor: no, we will operate during daylight hours, between 8am and 5pm. You’re on IV, 30 min observations and right outside the nursing desk so you’ll be ok. Try get some rest. He came back a few minutes later to tell me it looks like I will be in surgery for hopefully midday. The theatre staff came to get me at around 10am. Most of the preparation was already done, so I was moved down promptly. Only thing I didn’t have was a proper chlorhexidine wash, but that is easily fixed in surgery. I was prepared at the 4am bedside visit for multiple surgical incisions this time, as he had told me there were multiple issues with the shunt this time. I was still awake in the operating theatre, something rare for me. They had music going and it looked like as happy place as it can be, for someone about to undergo life-saving neurosurgery in a pandemic. One person even had a Marvel hair net, seriously. I managed to get to sleep quick this time, most likely because I was already so unwell.

I would wake up in the recovery room and I took note of one thing. I only noticed three people in the room: myself, nurse at my right hand controlling my observations and pain level and a nurse walked past my left, bragging about her chocolate stash. If I can pause here and say one thing to medical professionals, please do not do this to patients straight out of surgery. We are all tired, hungry and sore. Either share the snacks or keep it to yourself, please and thank you.

Later that night I would be moved to the high dependence unit. I was in normal pain levels for this kind of surgery and they didn’t bother offering the bottom level painkillers and went straight to the strong ones, something rare these days. Catering would offer dinner. Me being me, I obviously wanted it, especially because I hadn’t eaten more than a snack in days, literally. Nurse was quick to advise not to eat as I had abdominal surgery just now and eating heavy food quickly post-surgery may cause further issues. I gave her a look as if to say I’m hungry, sore and tired and don’t care about consequences. We met in the middle and agreed on eating the soup. It went down fine.

Next day I was moved to the neurology ward as I started feeling a lot better. This is when I would wake a lot better and notice just what happened in theater. Physios were quick to come in, as always, and wanted me to get out of bed on day one. Thankfully, nursing staff overruled them and said not today. My head felt fine, but abdomen was still very sore and would be for a week or two yet.

It’s this part of surgery recovery I struggle with the most and the reason I relate to the song I quoted for the title here. I wouldn’t go home for another 3 days, despite feeling like my pain levels were ok, nausea gone, keeping food and fluids down. I would genuinely question why I couldn’t go home yet and became irritable and restless mentally. But obviously now that I have had more surgeries than birthdays, when I calm down, I get it. It took until the Friday morning to have the paperwork complete, enough support in place for discharge but more importantly, bowel to open. Without going into graphic detail, this is especially important when one has had abdominal surgery.

The next ten days, I would go home with staples in both my head and abdomen. Like I said above, the head wound didn’t hurt much at all, other than itching because of hair growth and tangling. It was the abdominal wound that would hurt a fair bit. Thankfully they sent me home with good pain relief as well. I would learn the hard way something I have been told for years: literally everything goes through the abdomen, which is why it is called ‘the core’. Sneezing, coughing, laughing and even talking would hurt. Sitting up and transfers from bed to chair would take a lot longer. I do have a cool scar on there now. I would then question my nurse why I couldn’t go home. She very plainly said, “Mr. Cunningham, you’ve literally just had life-saving brain surgery in a pandemic, and you have spina-bifida, just rest.” She didn’t even have to put any exaggeration on it. That’s as blunt as it could be. I think sometimes even I tend to belittle some things I have fought and won, even brain surgery in a pandemic.

So, friends, family and anyone else reading, therefore I would miss the very last western derby and Damo's retirement announcement. I was simply too unwell to keep my eyes open. Some things are bigger than sport, I guess.

"I'm Back!" - Michael Jordan

“I’m back!” – Michael Jordan

 

With those two words, the greatest male to ever play basketball was back at the highest level for the Chicago Bulls after a hiatus. Some thought he had just retired, full-stop. Some think he quit. Some think he just wanted a new challenge to play baseball and hopefully make the major league, highest level of baseball in USA. On a deeper level, he went away to clear his mind after the sudden death of his father. My point is this: if it’s okay for Michael Jordan after winning his third consecutive NBA championship to state that he is so damned tired holistically he needs to stop the one thing he was dominant in, then it is ok for us to stop for a while as well.

I stopped writing about 4 years ago because of my mental health. Yet I am back writing because of my mental health. Oxymoron? Maybe. Liar? Hell no. I may be a lot of things, but my mother bluntly told me at 14 that I simply cannot lie to her face because I am way too soft emotionally. I do a lot of things in this life. For the last 20 years I have not bothered to even try lying as I am emotionally softer than melted butter. Therefore, genuine sincerity is something I need reciprocated to myself in others.

I have been through some absolute hell these last few years I have been MIA from writing. Some things I will write about; some things I will not. This is for my own self-care. I am going to remind myself whatever I do write about is literally going on the internet, for the whole world, potentially, to read and comment about. Am I comfortable with that? Hell no. Does it scare me? Hell yes. Am I going to do this anyway? Hell yes. I need to come back to this as it is a cathartic thing for me to process and make real the emotion of life. I said to one of my best friends this morning that writing it in black and white will make events real. He quite rightly stated all those things are very real. I have decided to face this mountain, in the words of Jon Foreman.

I was trying to “run”, if you will, from all the things that have haunted me (literally, not even a slight exaggeration) and numb myself to not feel the weight of what I have been dealing with. Whether that is in basketball, books, movies, shows, food, medication, whatever. However, there comes a point where a (hu)man needs to realize they are not invincible, and you can only do that for so long. Being numb to life is not living life well. Therefore, this is just a short one to say I am back writing to assist myself to process my own thoughts and emotions and to hopefully improve my mental health. If you read this, then great. With all due respect, if you do not read it, also great.

 

Giving up is not an option,

 

Perry

This year didn’t suck

A lot of people have said that this year has sucked. Well for me, this year for the most part didn’t suck. The first 10 days were very tough, as were the next few months, but the good definitely outweighed the tough this year. I am so grateful for that.

I found myself in an ambulance heading to hospital on the morning of January 10. However, as a direct result of that happening, I have great medical professionals around me who legitimately care about me as a human, not just a medical experiment to pay their bills. My doctor is good enough where he knows what to do with my health, but he isn’t arrogant enough to say he has a total cure. Yet he (as well as my OT, Laurie) has given me enough peace and courage to do what I can to help myself in my own health journey and I am so grateful for that.

This year I have re-connected with a lot of family from my dad’s side, with thanks to social media. It’s great to know most of them still have a place in their life for me, as I do for them. It certainly makes up for the number of people, due to a whole bunch of different reasons, who have drifted from my life in one way or another. Not much at all of that is a personal thing, just life happening at a very fast pace (something I still struggle with, to be fair). I am finally starting to learn that people do come and go in life and that it is very rarely a personal thing against me.

I have learned the power in consistently keeping up with medical appointments and tests. Before this year, I would see them as an inconvenience to me living my life and ignore it until something dramatic happened with my health. However, earlier this year my doctor told me that if I’m not keeping up with said appointments and tests, then I’ll be less healthy and productive when attempting to live my life. I have found this to be very true this year as I’ve attended all appointments for everything and I am now the healthiest I have been since 2006.

Some absolutely amazing and accidental things have happened, such as early May this year. I received an email inviting me to a Brisbane Broncos dinner in Perth. I bought my ticket, even though at the time it would wreck my budget, because these things in life only happen once in a lifetime and sometimes you just need to do fun things. I bought my ticket and had a great night. At the end of that night, I was talking with Broncos CEO Paul White and he would tell me it was a business owners dinner and he said I must have accidentally got the email invite. However, he said if I love the Broncos then I am welcome to stay.

I have achieved a dream of attending a footy game at the MCG and going to Melbourne. Aside from the freezing cold, it was so great. From buying coffee as big as my face and getting change from $5 for it, to accessible paths, beautiful scenery and sport and music everywhere, it’s a great place. I can see why some friends live there now. I will be back some day, but not in the middle of winter next time.

Then in August of this year, I was looking at Twitter one day when I saw a tweet from Perth Wildcats. It was asking for game night volunteers for the current season 2016/17. I updated my resume and applied. My first interview as far as I’m concerned was terrible. However, that following Friday afternoon I would receive an email asking me if I would like an interview with the Wildcats CEO Nick Marvin, on the following Monday afternoon. It went really well and he offered me a voluntary position in the administration staff at Perth Lynx. I now work there once a week and at every Lynx home game. I also attend all Perth Wildcats games. It was a lot more than I originally thought it would be. It has become a reason to fist-pump at life, to get out of bed with enthusiasm again. I am literally at a place now where ball is life. As I said to someone recently, if I’m not in an office for basketball, I’m working at a game, attending a game as a fan or watching a game of NBA or NBL on my laptop. Ball is literally life and I love it.

These are just a few highlights to try and encourage you all that this year did not totally suck. Not for me or for anyone, really. Sometimes we do need to try and look a bit harder to find the goodness. To sum it all up, I have finally got help with my overall health, both physically and mentally and I have learned the truth in the Switchfoot line that says “love alone is worth the fight”. Yes, it’s tough, but it is so worth it, friends. May 2017 be full of joy, peace and love and whatever comes your way, may you be able to say that “hope is the anthem of my soul”, as the Switchfoot song says.

Giving up is not an option,

Perry

Fear is a powerful motivator

Today, September 14 2016 is a date that all of you should mark on your calendar. I know I will never forget this date anymore. Earlier today, I was told by my doctor that I have exceeded expectations for a blood test I had last week. He went on to mention that I do not require any more needles or medical appointments for six months. For someone who has needles in their top five fears in life, that is a huge thing to hear. I couldn't help but hug my doctor in that moment. Thankfully he didn't see it as inappropriate and he understood why I did that.

Over this last eight months, I have had a diabetes and anaemia diagnosis (anaemia is no longer an issue), as well as mental issues such as depression, anxiety and PTSD. Just to try and give you an idea, in January and February, I was in medical appointments three times per week. These last eight months have been dedicated to doing whatever I have needed to do in order to get my health back to a place where I'm smiling at life again and physically strong enough to do what I need to do. I am happy to say I am now at that point. Yes, there were definitely a few points along the road where I have thought the process of healing was not worth it because let me tell you, recovery is a hard road, whether it's from physical or mental health issues. When you're dealing with both, it's like standing in the middle of a freeway at peak hour.

I am so grateful beyond words to my GP. For the first time in my life, I have a GP who understands all of my health issues and doesn't belittle them or feel overwhelmed by them, yet knows how to help me deal with them. He showed me where to find hope when I didn't know where to look. He gave me tools to get myself out of the hole I was in at the beginning of the year and through those things and God's grace, I got out. At no point have I gone on medication for my mental health. The only medication I am on is a tablet for diabetes control which is pretty good right now.

As for the diabetes, it's simple really. As I mentioned above, needles are a huge fear for me personally. Therefore I have come to the conclusion this year that fear is a powerful motivator. The day I was diagnosed with diabetes, I literally gave away all chocolate, lollies and soft drinks to other people, who were only too happy to take them away. Now, whenever I go near a confectionery section in a shop, I see needles and back right away. That's what I mean by fear being a powerful motivator. Far too often, people focus on the negative side of fear. However, I have found that fear can definitely have a positive effect on our lives.

While the mental health isn't perfect, it is definitely a lot better than it was. Each day now I'm going outside for fresh air and sun (weather permitting), journalling, reading good jokes or watching something funny on TV or Netflix, taking care of my physical health as much as I can and eating and sleeping properly. Also, each day I write a list of places to be or house jobs that need to be finished that day. That forces me to get up and take on the day, however I may feel physically or mentally.

Anyway, I believe murder-ball in the paralympics is on soon, so I better leave it there. Apologies also for the gap between posts. Life gets crazy busy sometimes.

Giving up is not an option,

Perry

Patience in the process

24/4/2016

I have mentioned a fair bit that in January something rather dramatic happened as my mental health hit rock bottom. Well, after that day, I had appointments, either at home, by phone or out in other people's offices such as GP, OT etc. The exhaustion, physically and mentally, was starting to become more harmful than helpful and I was on the brink of quitting on the whole process of starting to heal.

Then one day, it was about mid February, just as things were getting exhausting. I was on my daily "run" and if you've been to my place, you'll know I have a heap of gum trees right outside. I stopped and felt reminded of Matthew 6 where God tells us that if he can take care of the trees and the birds of the air, then he can certainly take care of us. Then he told me to simply have patience in the process. Those four words have kept me going ever since. Whenever I'm thinking of losing hope or getting too tired, I am reminded to have patience in the process. In the beginning of this, my GP told me that recovery from this will take a long time, but I can and will make 100% recovery.

One thing I want to make sure people get out of this blog is that I no longer believe that nobody cares for me. I know there are some people who do care. It's just that sometimes in life, the voices of those who don't care can become so loud that it drowns out the voices of the people who do care. What I am saying right here is that people who care need to speak louder. Speak louder than the negative, nasty people.

Over the last couple of weeks, I've been to a couple of AFL games. Sure, my anxiety was triggered a couple of times and I must admit I nearly went home early (nothing to do with the score). But I stayed, faced my fear of big crowds and getting bumped in the head and got through it okay, both times. It was scary at first, but I enjoyed seeing familiar faces again, such as bumping into an old basketball team mate and a high school teacher.

I turn 30 next week and I don't want to be a 30 year old who is too scared to deal with his fears. Another big fear came up for me this week as I realised something that has been holding me back for about 20 years. I won't go into it here, but to say now I recognize it for what it is and am dealing with it. I have got to that place where the pain of having something bother me is more painful than the pain and fear of doing what it takes to receive healing from the pain, if that makes sense.

So in closing, going back to the title, patience in the process. Recovery is a long process and I'm starting to think more clearly, realize that going outside isn't so scary and that dealing with emotions is hard, but very necessary if we want to be able to achieve my dreams. I still have dreams. Big ones. I will achieve them - whatever it takes. One day, one hour, one minute, at a time.

Giving up is not an option,

Perry

Catch up on life...

25/03/2016

I have been meaning to write something for weeks. However, every time I go to write something, I end up getting busy with trying to adult in this life. Or that voice in my head tells me that nobody cares and nobody will want to read this. Then this morning, I read a great blog from a friend and it was the push I needed to do this. You know who you are (if you're reading this).

Being my first blog for 2016, I feel I need to cover a few things and inform people of a few happenings in my life. First of all, on January 10, I was taken to hospital via ambulance for mental illness. I was discharged the same day, thank God. There is no way I am sleeping or eating in a hospital, unless I absolutely have to do it. Even just the knowledge that I could go home eased the stress in my mind a little bit.

My brain had got so low to a point where I truly believed that nobody out there cared about whether I was breathing or not. To be very fair, I am still not convinced anyone does, other than medical people who are paid to care. I also feel the need to highlight here that it is an illness. That you can't just "be positive" or "just cheer up" or "just pray it away" and it will magically go away. Illness doesn't work like that.

I've always known since I was a kid that I've had depression. I was made to see a psychologist from 8 years old. I was admitted to a children's mental health ward and made to take an anger management class at 10 years old. I was told I'd be in jail, dead or living in an adult mental health hospital if I didn't clean my life up. That stopped me from seeing anyone in psychology for 20 years... until recently. I have had to get over my fear of psychologists to see someone.

There are still a lot of things in my head that need to get sorted out. The biggest thing that I've got over the last two and a half months since that day in hospital is that I have a little bit of hope. A realistic hope that says that while tomorrow will not be all kinds of amazing, it will be okay and I have the strength and resources to deal with whatever it may bring.

I am trying to remember to take life one day, even one hour, at a time. That is all my brain and body can really handle and to be fair, I have never really been one that's good at planning ahead anyway. I am back studying my youth work degree at university, which is becoming a good mental distraction for everything. As well as university, I have help with cleaning and cooking at home and I am seeing my GP and psych both once a fortnight. All that keeps me very busy. Busy to the point where I said to my doctor that for the first time in my life, I may need to buy a thing called a diary.

My doctor has also done an overall physical health check and it's been discovered that I have diabetes and severe anaemia (pretty sure I spelled that wrong). The anaemia is so bad that I am waiting on admission into hospital to go on a drip. The diabetes is okay, just about figuring out a new diet that works for my body. That's not that simple, but I'm over the sugar withdrawal symptoms and I already do feel better just for cutting out sugar from my diet, even if it was forced upon me. I'm just not sleeping very well because some days, I feel so awake that I can "run" a marathon and other days I feel like I can't get out of bed. Some balance in my energy levels would be great! One more thing about my health and doctors is that finally, for the first time in my adult life (since 2003), I am finally in a place where I have medical people around me who not only know what they are doing in their area of expertise, but they genuinely care about me as a person, not just a job. If it took an ambulance taking me to hospital on January 10 to get to a place where I have good medical people, so be it.

Anyway, I think that is more than enough for the first blog back for the year. I hope to get back to consistently writing soon.

Giving up is not an option,

Perry

Bullying

19/12/2015

The last few weeks, like a lot of the time, to be honest, has not been a fun time in my head. I have had numerous nightmares about various bullies I encountered during the majority of my school years. I saw one of them in public a couple of years ago (we were on the same bus) and I could not get off that bus quick enough. 

I am writing a relatively quick post here to remind everyone to not be a bully, especially at this time of year when we should be working especially hard to share love, peace and joy, regardless of your religious belief. 

There is no other way around it, except to say that bullying sucks and it hurts. Depending on our personality and other factors, we may be able to defend ourselves, just brush it off, or if you are like me, bottle it up for years and cause nightmares only a few months shy of your 30th birthday. It can make one feel inferior when dealing with any sort of confronting situation. It can make one's head say that avoiding humans entirely is the best option. It can rob the person of healthy sleeping and eating and eventually, cause that person to not even consider working or studying as their head is so muddled up. 

I am not writing this to come across like a sob story. However I am writing this as an encouragement to everyone, adults too as it does happen later in life, to stand up to bullying. Be a friend to the one who is being bullied and within reason, stand up to the bully. It is not easy, but the person being bullied will think you are an absolute legend and will be a true friend in return. Trust me on that one. So please, do not be a bully, but be-friend the bullied and stand up to the bully. No matter how old you are, you are never too young to make a positive difference.

Giving Up Is Not An Option,

Perry

Sanka, you dead? - Cool Runnings

October 6, 2015

The date was October 6, 2007. Australia had just been knocked out of the rugby world cup by England. Now, some slight backtracking... For a few weeks leading up to this date, I was unwell, spending most of my time in bed, sleeping, with a fever, vomiting and most other sick symptoms you can think about. However, I was too stubborn to go to the hospital, thinking it was just a bad flu or something and it will pass. Yes, I have had the flu like that before and in me, the flu can last up to a month.

This wasn't easing up and instead of it progressively improving, it was getting worse. What was different on October 6 was my middle sister came into my room and basically yelled at me (yelling doesn't motivate me, but scares me) that I really need medical treatment and to eat something. I don't remember why, but I do remember eating KFC for dinner that night, throwing it straight up, having a shower and calling a friend to take me to hospital.

Given little choice considering how unwell I was, I was taken to Royal Perth Hospital. The time here would have been about 7:30 pm. The next three hours were a bit of a blur. What I do remember is there was a mad rush around me and I had a drip in me quicker than I can say "I hate needles". As it got to about 10:30 pm, I had about five medical professionals around my bed. They all looked me in the eye and diagnosed a blood and bone infection and stated they don't believe I will live another six hours. I remember looking each of them in the eye and saying the following: Okay, thanks for your medical opinion and expertise. However, you don't have the authority to tell me when I'm going to die. Therefore, thanks but no thanks. Now if you don't mind, I'm not feeling too well and I'd like to get some sleep. See you in the morning. Their reply: Sir, you won't live until the morning. Me: We'll see.

I did live until the morning. I woke up the next morning, still feeling pretty average, but well enough to know I was supposed to have breakfast. I wasn't given any and when I asked for some, they were in genuine shock.

Over the next 182 days until April 14, 2008 when I was finally discharged, I would spend most of my time sleeping, with two drips in me going almost constantly with antibiotics and pain relief. I had to have multiple blood transfusions and for a while there, had to spend some time in absolute isolation to prevent others getting it. I had to do crazy amounts of physio and OT to get my strength back up but I made sure I did what I had to do to get better (and more some days).

Upon leaving that hospital, I felt like I was Spider-man, that nothing could stop me or squash me. I went back to bible college and managed to finish my Cert. IV in Ministry (Youth) in 2009, finishing my time there in 2010.

The infection is incurable and is still in my system. I had to go back into hospital for the first half of 2013 with the same thing, but symptomatically I didn't feel as bad as I did in 2007. I'm two years hospital admission free and hoping to keep that going as long as possible ...

Giving up is not an option,

Perry.

There Goes My Hero ... - Foo Fighters

1/9/2015

I need to open this blog by apologizing for the lack of blog in August. I hope that in this blog you will discover why I was unable to blog last month.

In two and a half years of writing blogs, this is the hardest blog I have ever thought of writing.

On August 5, which is also mum's birthday, I got a text message from mum that basically said I need to come to her place. I put on a load of washing, had a shower and made my way to her house. Thinking it was just a mother wanting to see her only son on her birthday, I didn't think anything negative at all. When I got to her place, she made me coffee and she stopped me outside. Then mum said something that was probably one of the hardest things for her to do. On her birthday, she had to tell me, her only son, that her father was on his death bed, thanks to freaking cancer. I'm just going to say it now: cancer is a moron! I spent the rest of that afternoon/evening at mum's place trying to get my head around it and trying to be there for my family as best I could.

Two days later I was meant to have a medical appointment but that was cancelled, so I went back to mum's place to see my grandfather. That day I saw my aunt cry for the first time. That felt like a kick to the heart to see that. We were told the afternoon of the 7th he had a week to live. I tried to go to youth, but to be honest, my mind wasn't letting me stay there so I went home. I somehow managed to get some sleep that night, which is a relief because I wouldn't get any for the next two weeks.

The next day, at 12:57 pm, I got a call from my aunt: I think you should come now. I had a shower and went as quick as I could, both because I saw black clouds overhead and because I knew the urgency in what she was saying. By the time I got to mum's place, my grandfather had died 30 minutes earlier. I still hate myself for that. If I had a shower first thing in the morning like a normal person, I could have left straight away and would have seen him one more time. The rest of that afternoon/evening my family and I just sat at mum's place looking absolutely shocked, numb, sick. On Saturday August 8, 2015, the best man I had ever known had passed away.

It feels like someone has taken a huge chunk of me, seriously. Some days I'm functioning and getting things done and not letting my emotions get the best of me. Other days, like today, I can't get out of bed until after midday, am not hungry and really don't care for social interactions because everything just sucks.

He taught me how to treat a female as more than their bodies. He taught me that Jesus loves me, no matter what happens in this life or what I do or don't do and lastly, he is the one responsible for my simple sense of humour. He told me when I was a young kid that I need to learn to laugh at the simple things in life because with the situation God has put me in, I will get depressed if I can't at least laugh a little bit.

I can move on as best I can knowing that great man is in heaven, with his wife and a healthy body again. Apologies if this blog is all over the place and doesn't make much sense.

There goes my hero ...

Giving up is not an option,

Perry.

For he still smiles, he's still strong - Pearl Jam

24/07/2015

Today I was told some really bad medical news. I was told by my OT that both of my shoulders, not just my left one, have significant issues. He basically said that both of my shoulders are worn from all my life in a manual wheelchair.

Now, I have a choice: I can bawl my eyes out and whinge about it for the rest of my life and watch more than my fair share of day-time TV. Or, I can continue with my OT appointments and try and manage the pain and this new information as best I can, taking one day at a time and doing what I can to try and live as best I can.

I choose option two. I tried option one for the best part of a year to try and manage my left shoulder and it just made things worse. One thing I forgot was that keeping a joint so still for so long does more damage than good. I need to keep them moving and so even if I "can't be bothered", I'm going to do what I can to keep going. I refuse to fall into self-pity. Sure, it does suck and I acknowledge that. I am not pretending it doesn't. But I am refusing to let it control me or get to me. One thing God said to me not so long ago is that you cannot die physically from a shoulder injury. Therefore what I do now is put two fingers on my left side of my neck and take my pulse as I wake. If I can feel it, I get up and move.

I am back into serving at my youth ministry and I will continue to do that, even with this new news. The truth is there are people worse off than me and they find a will and a way to keep going. Therefore I don't think I really have a good excuse.

Tomorrow as you wake, feel your pulse. If you can feel it, get up without excuse.

Giving up is not an option,

Perry.

Turn It Off

9/6/2015

Over the past few weeks I have constantly had one simple thought: We are bombarded by literally thousands of thoughts each day, consciously or sub-consciously, but we don't need to act upon them all.

Most of us would agree that we cannot choose all of our thoughts, especially in the sub-conscious. Now I'm not going to try and go into a medical or psychological explanation of thought patterns because I'm simply not qualified to do so. All I aim to do here is to give my opinion on something I have come to realize through personal experience.

I have realized that while we may be bombarded by thousands of thoughts each day, if we are mentally healthy, we can choose what we accept and what we don't accept. We can also choose what we take in and what we don't. For example: on something like Facebook and Twitter, you don't need to read every single thing posted. I used to do that and it drove me nuts. Some things on social media are just plain stupid, let's be fair. And like I heard in a podcast recently, you really don't need to know the news that's happening on the other side of the world when it's 2 am in your local area. At 2 am, you need to go to sleep because in the words of Ted Moseby, nothing good happens after 2 am. If you find yourself reading, watching or hearing something and it's bothering your mental health, there's nothing wrong with simply turning it off.

In the last few weeks, I've watched enough news reports to know what's going on generally, but that's all. I don't read newspapers at all, mainly because I find them rather inaccurate. Also my time on social media has significantly declined. There is still definitely a positive to social media, especially for someone like me who struggles to leave the house at the moment and that is to keep in contact with humans, especially those humans I know who live outside of my city.

What I am trying to get at here is to encourage you to learn to sift through everything thrown at you and not take it all in personally because that will only hurt your mental/emotional health. However, don't turn it all off and use it as an excuse to be ignorant. Self-care for your mental health is good, ignorance is not. But that's a whole different angle and probably a blog for another day ...

Giving up is not an option,

Perry.

Too busy?

5/5/2015

I have a serious issue with people who claim they are too busy. Busyness is far too often applauded in our society. We confuse it with thinking that because someone is busy that they are doing something awesome. In modern day Western Australia, that is often not the case. Often people are too busy in an effort to ignore people, their own thoughts, responsibilities, emotions and other things. It is a good thing to be hard-working, but not to the point of burnout or ignoring other parts of life. It can be good to just get over it and get on with it, but not all of the time. Sometimes we need to stop and deal with why we are really doing everything we do. My pastor has often said that he takes a metaphorical step back and has to assess everything we do at church because sometimes not everything that happens is for the best. Good things are not always the best things to get you to your goal.

We need to stop using "I'm busy" as an excuse to ignore our friendships and relationships in life. Yes, things like our phone and social media helps us to stay in contact with some people, but that should not be our default way of keeping in contact with others. There is no real substitute for face-to-face contact with others because you cannot have deep relationships in 140 character tweets, 160 character text messages or a Facebook status update. I have had no choice but to resort to doing this since August 2014 because of my health and trust me, it does not work in maintaining a healthy level of relationships in life. It has left me feeling pretty emotionally crappy at times.

However, in the midst of this, I am finding that through my blogs and use of social media (Twitter) that God is using me. In 2010, my best friend passed away from the effects of CF. I made her a promise only a few weeks before she died. I promised to do all I could to assist those living with CF and to find a cure. I have found there is a huge population of people living with CF on Twitter and so God is using me to do my best to encourage them to keep going. You see, whatever predicament you may find yourself in, God can and will use you for positive change in this world. You just have to say yes and be available, not too busy.

My challenge to everyone who reads this is to re-assess everything that you do and make sure it is helping you to get to your main goals. If it is, then great, keep going at it and be awesome! If it is not helping but hindering, then stop doing it. Stop believing the lie that you're too busy for God and for those that you love because the truth is, if you care enough, you will find the time and make yourself available.

Giving up is not an option,

Perry.

It's Okay

4/04/2015

These last few months, since August really, my writing has declined because of physical health issues. I have been unwell with a deteriorating left shoulder. If you are able-bodied, that is not so much of a problem. However, when you are in a wheelchair, it is a huge problem. Think of it like a walking person having hip or knee problems. Therefore not much productive at all has happened in these eight months.

I was on some very hard medications which made the situation feel a lot worse, rather than better. These medications are supposed to be mid-range pain relief, but instead had a detrimental effect on my mental and emotional health, hurt my gut, my sleeping pattern and these painkillers are a big reason why I fell into a deep, dark hole of depression. There were nights so scary I thought I was not going to see the next day. Thank God I am still breathing - seriously! I was only on them for about eight weeks and have since vowed to myself and my family to never take that pain relief again.

Since recognizing a few weeks back this was a major contributor of my current issues, I have been looking at other sources of pain relief, without my GP, who prescribed me the other pain relief that made me feel terrible. I have now finally found some pain relief that relieves pain, is natural, legal and doesn't make me sick, physically or emotionally. As a result, I am feeling much better internally and am starting to think about going back into the real world and dealing with people soon. It won't be easy, but God is with me and will give me the grace and wisdom to help me.

For those that know me, I want to make one thing clear and that is I am not at uni studying. However, I am still technically in a role as a youth leader at the church I attend, Metro Church. And that brings me around to the title of this blog: It's Okay. I can't remember when it was, but my pastor's daughter, Rebekah, preached a message a while back about how it's okay. Even when you don't know what is going on at all, it's okay. Even when it seems like all hell is breaking loose and has you as it's target, it's okay. Why? Because God knows and if God knows, it's okay. Whatever you are facing at the moment, Christian or not, know that it is okay. The sun is shining, you are breathing and Jesus loves you, whether you know it or not. In closing, a quote from my favourite band, Switchfoot: "All that's in my head is in your hands." - Home by Switchfoot

Giving up is not an option,

Perry

Hope

06/01/2015

You're my only hope. Those are four words from the song "Only Hope" by Switchfoot, also done by Mandy Moore in the movie A Walk To Remember. This is not a post about the song, those artists or even the movie. It is a post about hope and I just happen to be listening to this song as I write and thought I would give it a mention.

Without hope, we are as good as internally dead. Whatever may have happened in your life, whether you caused it, someone else did, good or bad, do not ever lose your ability to hope for tomorrow. Hope keeps us smiling through the rains of life. It keeps us literally pushing through in the last couple of km's of a city to surf. It keeps us watching every game, even if our favourite sports team are no good this season.

Some may call us naive and stupid for doing those things, but if you don't hope and you give up, what kind of life is that? I am all for sincerity and telling it like it is, but I am also all for being positive, especially through the drama of life.

I hope that 2015 will be full of love, joy and peace for us all. I hope that 2015 will see me return to study my Youth Work degree. I hope I do not see the inside of a hospital, either as a patient or visitor.

Again, some may say I am naive and stupid. I am not naive and stupid and I know that will not happen for everyone. Some will experience some pain this year because that's just life. However, I encourage those that do see some hard stuff this year to go through it with hope in your heart and a smile on your face at the knowledge that the sun will rise tomorrow. If you need to turn off your phone and tune out for a while to rest, do that. Whatever it takes for you to keep yourself hoping, as long as nobody gets hurt in the process, do that!

Giving up is not an option,

Perry.

Fear

07/10/2014

I want to be the guy who writes honestly because that is how I was brought up, to call things how they are without sugar-coating anything at all. So that is how I try and live my life and that is how I write.

A few weeks ago, I was given a referral to go to a radiological clinic to get a local anaesthetic injection and a cortisone injection, both at the same time. I have had a fear of needles ever since I was six years old. Some try and tell me it is unreasonable. I always reply to them that they have a fear too and sure enough, they tell me their fear. There is nothing wrong with feeling fearful at all. But where it becomes an issue is when it literally paralyzes you (pun intended) into inaction. That happened to me when I had to get those needles. I got so scared that I lost sleep four nights in a row, barely ate anything and consequently, was in no place to get the needles done on the day. I cancelled the appointment and went back to bed. I felt like an absolute moron, but knew in a strange way that I had done the right thing because had I gone to take the needles that day, they would have hurt a lot more than a day if I was feeling stronger.

So... I've taken a couple of weeks rest, both for my body and mind and this coming Friday at 2:15 pm, I will face my fear and get those two needles done because I really do need them. All I know is that I do not want to be the guy who is not man enough to take what he has to take in life because that has never been me. However, I do want to be the guy who is not afraid to be honest with his emotions. If I am feeling scared, I want to be honest enough where I can admit it. If I feel I am too tired to deal with something, physically, emotionally or both, I want to be the guy who does not feel like he has to hide it and try to put on his fake cape and be a fake Superman. That is not me. That has never been me. That never will be me. I hope you all know, no matter how well you know me, that I get just as scared as the rest of you. The difference is whether or not you get up after you have had your moment of fear.

Giving up is not an option,

Perry.