C'est Le Weekend: On the Road Again

The husband, wisely, decided we needed a change of scenery to pep up our murky moods, so we're off to the Belgian Ardennes this weekend.

It will be cold, but sunny, and as long as the boys can play outside, I am one happy woman.
Yesterday, to get into the swing of things, the boys set to cleaning the garden.

 
Son#1 is now convinced that he wants to be a gardener.
A juggling gardener, because he's been practising with tennis balls for a whole day now.

My dad is out of the hospital, and we're waiting for his new pain medication to kick in.
He stopped taking the Tramadol in hospital as he was starting to hallucinate on it, but then they offered him no other pain medication.
It sounds like the hospital from hell with sarcastic oncologists (When I get the sms from God, I'll let you know when your nausea passes) and prison-guard matrons (You've been transferred?  Well, you fall under my rules and regulations now).
Where does the 'caring'-part come in?
Shame on you, St George's.
Discharge seemed to be the better option.
Hang in there, darling Dad!

Sigh.
Now Son#3 is eating muesli and yoghurt for breakfast with an American football next to his bowl, mentioning 'zombies'.
The joys of having murderous older brothers.

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What can I say?

I'm a mommy's boy.

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What we think, we become

But!
Word of warning!

This does not apply to your physical being.

Because no-one thinks cancer or pain or suffering in all its many physical forms.

Thoughts do grow a life of their own.  I believe this.

If I think that my life is good, I will perceive it as good, and that's all that matters.

It's just perception.

 

But.

Now that my dad is not feeling 100%, all my previously-held-ideas evaporate.

I probably can't influence many things physically (but be sure I'll let you know when I succeed), but I can hold in the palm of my hand my perception of my life.

Life can be hard, but it is still wondrous.

Love is wondrous.

And the ability to love, most wondrous of all.

Our sole purpose in this life, might just be, simply to love.

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Well

This morning, I dropped Son#3 off at daycare and then went to the Hema for their 1-buck-breakfast and reading.
Quiet with coffee and solitude and my thoughts.
It's a 1-buck-breakfast but you pay 4 bucks for parking behind the Hema for 1 hour and 10 minutes.
Upside down.

Then I had an appointment with a company specializing in treating burnout, to assess my list of complaints.
It was pleasant enough, although I told them, fine, we can talk, but I'm not doing silly homework like writing in a diary about my feelings.
Hell, that's what the blog is for.
Perhaps I should just refer them to my blog.
Haha.

 
Am feeling cynical today.
Sick and cynical.
Worried, sick and cynical.

My dad is still in hospital, I think he's feeling better, but will only know when I phone my mother again tonight.
Don't want to wake him from possible sleep.

This afternoon, I'm having Nigella Lawson's spiced nuts for lunch, and studying for another hour or so, before I pick the boys up from their various schools.
Sigh.
 
 


 
 

Good Intentions

 You must give some time to your fellow man. 

Even if it's a little thing, do something for others - something for which you get no pay but the privilege of doing it.

Albert Schweitzer

My dad is still in hospital but no longer in critical condition.

He is so loved.

Utterly, well and truly loved.

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Critical Condition

In the night, my dad was taken to hospital again with extreme pain.
His blood pressure spiked at 205 over 148, kidney failure and super high calcium levels.
Worry.
Concern.
Multiple Myeloma is a bitch.

Yesterday I spoke to my dad for over an hour.
I'm so glad I got to talk to him.

 
Right now, we're taking it day by day.
Just now.
That's all.

The positives are that he was lucky enough to catch dr Voorman on duty - a kind, female doctor, who takes the time to speak to him.
And he got sooper-dooper strength painkillers.

Life is beautiful.
And precious.
 
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Long, long time ago

 

My dad and Son#1 on the beach in Port Elizabeth.

In awe and appreciation of being together, the sea, and life beyond the horizon.

They are both dreamers, you know. 

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C'est Le Weekend: Birthday Boy!

His Nibs is 2 years old today!

He awoke cranky and impatient, asking for pizza for breakfast.

We're both ill with bronchitis, but we're going out a bit later to buy some cake for the birthday boy, which will probably mostly be eaten by his mother.

My dad had fluid on his lungs from all the saline solution he got in the hospital, and hopefully his breathlessness has eased a bit.

New pain medication too.

It was such a busy busy week.

Everything happened at once and required my non-existent mental clarity and some decision-making.

Son#2 is off to his paternal grandparents tomorrow, we'll pick him up again on Sunday.

I will have to study my behind off as I'm writing an exam on the 10th of May.

Happy Birthday Bunny.

We're so glad you're alive and well!

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Dad

My dad is at home but in terrible pain and short of breath.

I wish, wish, wish I could take it away for him.

These are dark days for us.

Especially being 11 000 km away from my parents.

Son#1 thinks his granddad is invincible.

Son#2 sends kisses through the airwaves.

Son#3 repeats grandpa's name and can pick him out on photos.

(Quite clever for an aaaaaalmost 2-year-old).

We love you, Paw!

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This little boy

This little boy is sick.

Bronchitis.

Again.

Antibiotics and some sweet-mama-loving and we'll be right as rain again.

In Africa, my brother is turning 41 today.

And my dad is getting a CT scan and will hopefully be going home again within a day or 2.

One is blessed with family.

We forget this too often.

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