Buddhas and Bikinis - Vetbook

scattered bed pans across the floor.
Buddhas and Bikinis 12
Dad leaned over and kissed Maria gently, ‛Now get some rest and when your better,
I’ve got that new motorbike you always wanted.’
That’s my father, making promises he never keeps. But a month later, Maria did get
her bike, a Honda CR-125, courtesy of her near-death experience. Sadly, she never got to
ride it, because every six weeks after her splenectomy, she was back in hospital getting a
blood transfusion.
It would be another year before specialists in Brisbane diagnosed Maria with
Thalassaemia, a genetic blood disorder whose name is derived from Thalassa, the Greek
word for the ocean, because originally it was diagnosed in people who lived near the
Mediterranean Sea. So my parents were to blame.
By the time Maria was discharged from hospital, I owned the CR125 by default,
and took every opportunity to get away from Yarrawonga and my father.
It would take years before my father came to terms with there being no cure, no
miraculous treatment to mitigate Thalassaemia. This was years before the advent of
chelation drugs such as deferoxamine that would allow Maria to undertake tertiary
education and live a normal life. Her childhood had passed without her really experiencing
it.