From Mom to Granny to Great Grandmother

It’s 2022 and it’s post Covid. We have had to pick up the pieces and carry on with our lives. We have had doors closed, friendships broken, families ripped apart, lost loved ones but we have also had wonderful new beginnings.
New Life, new growth and self-worth.
Living in South Africa with its diverse cultures and past history makes for horrendous living conditions but none as bad as what the government and its corrupt sanctimonious arseholes are dishing out daily. Taxes upon taxes and higher costs of living due to what we call LOADSHEDDING. For hours a day we have to live without electricity because no maintenance has been done on the infrastructure in years. theft of coal and other resources are whitewashed whilst we are brainwashed into believing that they are trying their best to fix the problem. This is not a problem – it is a phenomenal Fuck Up of mass destruction.
Amidst all of this we have to carry on with life and do our best to survive.
In less than a 3-month period I first became a great grandmother and last night grandmother again. My eldest granddaughter gave birth to her own daughter Tahlita. I am so extremely grateful for this new little bundle in our family and know that she will be the best mommy she can be as she has definitely learnt from the best. Her own mother. We are many many miles apart and only through the grace of social media are we able to stay connected. We are able to not just love with our hearts but also with our eyes. Thank you for being the amazing soul that you are Chandre.

I helped raise a “daughter” I did not give birth to but brought into life by witnessing her birth and helping with her delivery as the Dr was unavailable. She was named after me which made her even more special. As the years went by she became an adult herself and fell in love and pursued a modelling career where she did pretty well. She found out that she was pregnant and from early on had said she would want me to be present when the baby was due. On the night she was due to give birth they had trouble with their vehicle, and I rushed off to collect her. By the time I got to them on the side of the road she had changed her mind and stayed in the car with Dullayn with me following them to hospital.
That was the start of an extremely long labour as she was so tiny and baby was big but she made it. I was allowed to “catch” the little man as he took his first breath. Zylon Elijah came into the world weighing a whopping 3,8 kg. Blue eyed and wide awake.

Jumping forward to 28/12/2022 at 6pm
I received a frantic call and all I heard was Get me at the Hospital. I giggled a bit because I knew she can be quite the drama queen and continued enjoying my supper first. I got dressed and got into my car thinking I have nothing to worry about and that another long night would await us. 5 minutes later I got another call asking where I was. I assured Dullyan that I was on my way. The trip between the two town normally takes 25 minutes but given that we are a tourist town and that it is now high season the roads were nothing less than a nightmare and with the sun fading fast I had no choice but to drive with as much caution as possible. ANother 5 min and another frantic call. Where are you? She is about to Push. I was a mere 3 minutes away. I masde it to the hospital and anticipated being stopped at the front desk but was waved through as he could clearly see this was a Mom on a mission. I kicked off my slops as they were slipping on the tiles and scooped them as I ran for the stairs. I entered the Maternity Ward door, saw a male nurse, mentioned her name and he just waved me straight through. I heard her scream and then within second heard a baby. NOOOO …. I missed it by seconds. As I ran in the door the nurse had just placed her on Mommy’s tummy. I felt Terrible not being there for her sooner but I was there. I was there with her, daddy and Baby Ayziya (Azia) Great Job Lynne.

Welcome to the world little miracle.

PS: I LOVE YOU

Halloween in November

No one lives forever

Life as we know it and as we perceive it can do a complete turnaround in literally a second.

(4/11/2020) What I thought would just be a normal Wednesday night made a slight turn to the left. I was just about to settle in with a cup of coffee, Netflix and some in-between banter between Janeane and myself when I received a phone call from Jacquie needing a blood pressure cuff. I put the phone down and had the most incredible feeling of losing all control and an electrifying pain from behind my ear round my head and into my nose, I tried lifting my arm to my face as I felt I might have a nosebleed coming but could not lift it. I heard Janeane calling Dad telling him something was wrong with me and next thing I knew Dad was standing in front of me asking me to do certain things which I could not do and it aggravated me more. I remember shaking my head from side to side because I did not want him touching my face and kept trying to assure him, I was fine. The episode lasted a few seconds and then passed. I was slightly disorientated but knew what was going on around me. Jax and Michael Boukes came over and whilst they used the cuff Dad put it on me as well. My BP was slightly higher than normal but nothing to be alarmed about.

On Thursday 5/11/2020 all was well, and I went about my normal day at school although I was extremely sleepy the whole day. Just needed a good night’s rest. On Friday 6/11/2020 I quickly got all my data and duties done and by 12 pm walked down towards the hall where we a Birthday Lunch for Mr Marallich the Headmaster of the school.

At some stage during lunch I turned to Kitty next to me and said that the food I ate had a tin foil taste. She was quite shocked that I would describe her food as having a “taste”. She asked me if I had been drinking the night before as I was slightly slurring. No I most definitely had not. After lunch I remember getting up and walking back towards my cubicle at the school gate but at some point had to grab onto the fence next to me as my legs would not carry me and my head was spinning. I lost control of my bladder and in the distance heard someone asking if I was okay whilst slumped against the fence. I tried to lift my arm to call them to come help me but no one came. Once I reached the cubicle and found my phone, I called Cassondra who told me to stay put and wait but before I knew it I was in my car on the Highway heading to the Dr. Cassondra was furious with me and with good reason as I could have killed myself or someone else on the road.

From the time I got to the Dr’s and admitted to hospital I don’t remember much but here by the grace of God I am.

The long Lockdown

It’s been a very long time since I wrote anything on this page for you. As we enter the almost 100 days of Lockdown and the Covid – 19 catastrophe that has hit the entire world it has now become a close call for us as a family.

We experienced a death in the family in the first week of this covid pandemic (not taken by the virus itself) but something that could have been dealt with better. Oupa “Ferdiland”, a man of great meaning in all our lives.

At first we all just kept watching and seeing things unfold around us. Our freedom of movement taken away in one quick swoop of the governmental iron fist. Over and over we hear the same words, Stay at home, wash your hands, social distance, sanitize, wash your hands, wear a mask in public. Close all shops, schools, businesses and above all shut down tourism. No more flights as airports closed and planes were grounded. You will stay stuck where you are until this is over. The Gov announced an initial shut down of 3 weeks. That has now become Day 97 (3 months later) as the spread has now reached levels incomprehensible.

The first few weeks into this new way of life seemed ok. We got to spend time with each other in closed quarters. Something we sometimes wished we did not have to do. You were only to leave your house for medical emergencies or a quick trip to the shop. Lockdown had been set up in stages. Level 5 being the hard Lockdown and easing down to levels 4, 3, 2 and 1. We have now reached level 3 and it’s going nowhere slowly. When level 3 was announced people were given freedom of cross border movement which in my opinion is what caused the spark. We had no infections, nothing and now all of a sudden we are crossing the double digits and it includes a local death. That is one death too many.

In the first weeks we cleaned, de-cluttered, cooked, baked, watched matters unfold on TV, heard about the first fatality in Cape Town and closely followed the spread. For more than 2 months we had no cases in our little town. Nothing happened, we felt safe and believed we had crushed the virus but now after 97 of partial lockdown days it has finally sprung to life and is spreading like wildfire. I started feeling unwell on Friday 26 June after getting home from school. Eventually made the call on Monday and had my test arranged for Tuesday. Horrid is the only word I can come up with. a long thin tube stuck into both nostrils for just a few seconds but it felt like torture.

Below is an account of hat happens to a patient once they have been admitted to hospital after testing positive and having difficulty with breathing

The incubation,

Here you go folks… for those people who don’t understand what it means to be on a ventilator but want to take the chance of going out without a mask…

For starters, it’s NOT an oxygen mask put over the mouth while the patient is comfortably lying down and reading magazines. Ventilation for Covid-19 is a painful intubation that goes down your throat and stays there until you live or you die.

It is done under anesthesia for 2 to 3 weeks without moving, often upside down, with a tube inserted from the mouth up to the trachea and allows you to breathe to the rhythm of the lung machine. The patient can’t talk or eat, or do anything naturally – the machine keeps you alive.

The discomfort and pain they feel from this means medical experts have to administer sedatives and painkillers to ensure tube tolerance for as long as the machine is needed. It’s like being in an artificial coma.

After 20 days from this treatment, a young patient loses 40% muscle mass, and gets mouth or vocal cords trauma, as well as possible pulmonary or heart complications.

It is for this reason that old or already weak people can’t withstand the treatment and die. Many of us are in this boat … so stay safe unless you want to take the chance of ending up here. This is NOT the flu.

Add a tube into your stomach, either through your nose or skin for liquid food, a sticky bag around your butt to collect the diarrhea, a foley catheter to collect urine, an IV for fluids and meds, an A-line f to monitor your BP that is completely dependent upon finely calculated med doses, teams of nurses, CRNA’s and MA’s to reposition your limbs every two hours and lying on a mat that circulates ice cold fluid to help bring down your 104 degree temp.

-Anyone want to try all that out? Stay home and wear a mask when you go out! Stay safe and well!-

What this article doesn’t say, is that the patient can hear everything that is said so if the staff carelessly talks about death, the patient panics. If the sedatives are lessened, the patient panics because he can’t breath or talk or, in his case, move. When they begin to lower the pain medications, the patient screams in his head but can’t make a sound. When they take out the tubes it’s extremely uncomfortable. A trachea may replace the respirator, the patient still can’t talk or eat without a tube.

Your child, your spouse, your parent, suffers from covid 19 alone in the hospital. The victims are not limited to strangers. When you choose to crowd, unmasked, into newly opened stores for some irrelevant purchase, ask yourself if it’s worth a lifetime of knowing your child suffered, maybe died, alone.

Tumor days

so I got booked into The Neuro Clinic for observation, evaluation and preparation for removal of a meningioma, I am to understand how it will affect me and what I can expect to happen to me and my body afterwards.

Yesterday the 26th of November I was sent for a minor procedure that would take all of 20 minutes in theatre. A Dr Nel performed the nasty task of cleaning out my entire bowel system and taking off a few hemorrhoid’s that had appeared over the years and caused me some discomfort and even some embarrassment. I can only think how embarrassing it must be to be scratching around in someone else’s asshole to cut off little blood vessels at close range. Thankfully I was asleep so would never know. Anyone who chooses a profession such as this deserves a medal. it’s a real shitty one.

Years ago I saw my father directly after he had his procedure and the image unfortunately stuck in my mind. Graphically. To say I was slightly nervous could be an understatement and the first thing I did after waking up was to run my hand over my backside. Oh …. Nothing. Did I miss it? Did they not do the operation? There was no pain whatsoever. I could immediately sit up and on my backside. I remembered the doctor coming past me in his scrubs and mentioning he found two larger blobs on the inside lining and had cauterized them. The rest he tied off with tiny elastic bands that would fall off by themselves later.

I was transported back to the clinic and felt great. Had some coffee, had a croissant and later even ventured outside for a smoke in the garden. All good. Came to my room, tried to just lie down and take it easy. an hour or so later a bunch of us all went back outside and as I sat on the bench I felt a wave of dizziness spread over me. I was so scared that I would black out in front of the people around me that I asked them to lay me down on the grass. Next thing I know there is a humungous man standing in front of me with a wheelchair. Off to bed. For te life of me I could not fall asleep and have been awake since. It is now 5.58am on Friday morning 27th November and I have had 1 hours sleep. I thought anesthetics are supposed to make you sleep but seems it can also wake you up and keep you up.

Well so another day has broken. I sat outside at 5 am listening to the birds, watching the sun come up over the Outeniqua mountains and stare at a teeny tiny flower head open from it’s slumber.

Sometimes even when your days starts off with a lot of SHIT in your head it still does not leave you with emptiness. There is life, we have life and we have LOVE.

PS: I love you.

Dis ‘n fokop as mens se ma dood is.

PS: I love you

Kouevuur

Daar word gesê mense gebruik vloekwoorde om hulself uit te druk as hul woordeskat beperk is. Glo my, my woordeskat is so groot soos die Here se genade, maar soms kan net ‘n vloekwoord iets verwoord. Nie al die woorde in die dikste woordeboek kan presies vertel wat se fokop dit is as mens se ma dood is nie. Weg. Vir altyd. Soos in absoluut weg vir die res van my lewe.

Dis die laaste keer wat ek sal skryf hieroor, want ek weet niemand weet regtig wat om te sê vir iemand wat ‘n geliefde verloor het nie. ‘Ek is jammer oor jou verlies. Sterkte. Dink aan jou.’ Ja, ek weet en ek waardeer. Ek het self al daai woorde al vir ander gesê en dit uit my hart bedoel. Dis net, dis net woorde. Dit troos vir die oomblik. Dus skryf ek hier, want dis al waar ek…

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Quiet on the Homefront

Summer is fast retracting it’s warm tentacles and the cold is creeping in. Winter is closer than you think.

It’s been very quiet for a while now. Life has just carried on and days have gone by.

We have lost so many friends in the last few months and I think we all just assume that the other is ok.

We speak of the departed for a few days and then we just carry on with our emotions safely tucked away.

Are we really doing so well. I know for sure I am not. I don’t want to be overbearing and harper on and on, but it really

Bugs me to think that you, my children are NOT ok and that you have piled up the things that hurt you and can leave scars that will never heal. Please speak up.

Letter to my children…

 

Sometimes I wake up in the morning and I see that you’ve grown over night. Your face is more defined, your eyes look older. A part of me is excited and in awe; I know you have so much ahead of you. Another part is scared because time is racing and I can’t slow it down. I’m afraid that I haven’t always been awake and noticing, and that somehow I have slept through the magic of your growing. I wonder, have I enjoyed you enough? Have I given you what you needed?

I’m not always good at this. I’m not always as good as I want to be at being your mom. I want to be great; and sometimes I am, but sometimes I’m not.

Sometimes I get it, and sometimes I don’t.

Sometimes I do it right, and sometimes I completely miss it.

Everyday I make mistakes.

Sometimes I snap when I should be sensitive. Sometimes I lecture and give chores when what you needed was a hug. Sometimes I completely and utterly miss it. I know that I do. I mistake your pain for complaining or your sad heart for a bad attitude. I watch myself miss it, and later I grieve that I didn’t respond differently.

I miss it when I am scared. I am scared of big things and little things. I really thought adults had it all figured out, but I am one now, and it turns out we don’t. Sometimes fear snatches my heart and I can’t seem to think of anything else. I forget to relax and to enjoy you. I forget to smile and to laugh. I’m working on that.

I miss it when I am lost. I’m struggling with my own demons and it has nothing to do with you. Sometimes it’s anxiety or it’s depression, but it’s never, ever your fault. I will keep striving for wholeness so that when you reach those obstacles I can help you do the same.

I know that it is easy to hang on to the negative things and forget all the positive, but I want to set the record straight. When I look at you I am SO. PROUD. When I look at you I see good. I see someone who is mighty. I wonder how I have been trusted with such a treasure.

Please keep helping me to see you and to know you. Keep telling me when I hurt your feelings. Keep sharing with me your fears and your insecurities and we will figure it out together.

I’m okay with making mistakes, but I’m never okay with losing your heart. Your heart is what matters to me.

I hope that my weakness teaches you something. I hope that when you come upon your own brokenness, tiredness, fear, and confusion, that you will be okay with it. I pray that your imperfections won’t scare you as they have me. I pray that you won’t run from them, but that you’ll wrestle with them and you will keep showing up, saying sorry, and trying again.

We don’t always get it right and that’s okay.

We are all professional mistake makers, and you will make lots and lots of mistakes. You will make countless amounts of mistakes, just like I have, but not one could darken the light I see when I look at you. You are my treasure, you are my reason.

Even though life is racing by, sometimes we have a moment. Sometimes we can reach out, grab time, and hold it. The world stops, all is quiet, and we really see each other. In this moment when I glimpse the person you are and who you’re becoming, all I can think is…

Wow.

On this morning, where it seems you’ve grown overnight, I want to tell you that you are wonderful. You amaze me everyday – and as I watch you, you inspire me. You inspire me to pull out the greatness that’s inside me. In this family we will make mistakes, but we will keep doing it together and we will keep holding each other other tight.

It turns out I’m never, ever, going to be perfect, but I am always and forever yours, and I’m always and forever on your team. That I can promise you.

Music? What Music?

I grew up in a house where music was a big thing. My Father was drumer in a few bands in his lifetime and all he ever wanted was for at least ONE of his five kids to follow in his footsteps, but there was never money to pay for this and when I showed a bit of interest I was quickly enrolled into piano classes. I took a few and found it fascinating but the passion was just not there. In fact, I hated it. I hated sitting in that class doing the same repetitions every day and feeling that we were not moving forward.

The other thing was that it interfered with something I liked more. Sport!!! The music Class was next to the Sportsfields and I could hear the games and the whistle blowing every time there was grounds for correction. My ears was more tuned into those sounds than the notes from the piano. If only my Sport practice and Piano lessons did not clash. I might have still been able to play the piano today. 

I grew up with 60’s music. Rock n Roll, Country and Western, Pop etc. That was MUSIC! You understood the Music. You felt the music and heard the music.

Today there is some good music I must admit, but in general it has become very synthetic. Gyrating, Twerking, Screeching and downright foul in most instances. If you had to sit down and really listen to the musical instrument that is used you would be able to recognise very few. Not the person singing, the actual instruments used. It’s just easier to use musical equipment to produce sounds these days.

You all seem to be able to do one thing automatically, memorise the words. Words don’t always make the Music. It’s Sound. Listen. Listen to the Sounds. I am sure you would find most of it awful. You can make up a 4 minute long song with one single sentence. Repetitive over and over same crap different tune and call it a hit! There’s lot of them Just listen.

 

 

 

You have a Boyfriend?

It has been many months since I actually sat down and wrote anything for any of you.

Dani – You have a Boyfriend?

 

I have a Dog

To my Daughters,

I had sworn and made a promise to myself that I would not pick up the leash that belongs to the Black Dog.

Today I broke that promise. Not just to myself but to one of you who also drag that same dog around.

For some time now I have watched you and seen the hurt, the anxiety and the pain. I don’t know how to help you as I cannot even help myself.

I have often wondered if we would be a make a good pack? Three black dogs on one leash. Suffering the same hot pavement. Is there different shades of black for different black dogs? I think so yes.

Guilt? Anxiety? Financial Difficulties? Depression? Clouded senses? (seeing the truth but wanting not to see), Fear, Betrayal, Hurt, Overcoming grief?

When your brother passed away many many years ago I received no help. I did not have the opportunity to grieve. I did not go seek any help. For me Life had to go on. I had a young child who needed me, as she too had lost a brother. She did not need to lose her mother as well. I had a husband who needed me. I had a marriage to save which was in trouble to start with. I had an Alcoholic to save and tolerate. I had to defend my daughter from him. I had to defend myself from him more. The beatings you never saw or heard. (Yes, they were brutal at times) I tried to always hide the marks as I knew no one would believe me and after a “friend” one day told me to suck it up and stop telling lies,I turned inwards and looked for the fault within me. I started joining in the drinking and binging as I thought that would make the pain less when the next fight would break out as I knew it would happen, just not when.

I soon found out I was pregnant and would need to protect another small person from the next cycle of abuse.

People in my Family told me that another child would heal all wounds. NO it did not. I had post natal Blues. No one knew or saw it. I was all alone with more than I could cope with. I spoke out to my doctor and told him how I felt. He placed me in Hospital for a week of rest. What rest? I had none as I was still worried sick about who was taking care of my children at home and how much alcohol was consumed whilst I was in Hospital. The day he came to fetch me he reeked of alcohol but I knew I had to go and take care of my children at all cost. The house was filthy and for hours he made me understand that it was my fault. You were fast asleep and unaware. You were blameless. It was not your fault. How could it be? He made me wash and scrub every last inch of the kitchen. Even unpacking and repacking every cupboard while he stood over me and shouted obscenities. When you are constantly called a whore and a fucking dumb cunt you start believing that you are. The black dog walks in and just sits and looks on in silence. Whilst he is sitting there staring at you he grows. You can see him grow. He scares you but you don’t care. You try and open the door for him to leave but he will stat pushing against that door. You reach for pills and shut yourself down. Mentally and Physically.

You argue with the voices in your head. You stay awake as much as possible, eat as little as possible as if that would make him change his ways. Just getting out of bed takes more courage and strength than pushing a Bulldozer. Opening a tap to wash your face feels unneccesary. Getting dressed is not an option. Knowing you will be followed all day long by a Fucking Dog you do not want will make you want to open a drawer and reach for a knife.

There are other parts of the abusive cycle that you never need to know. Parts that no parent should ever have to tell. I know I am not alone. There are millions of others who go through this every day. You walked past at least five of them in Town today and will pass another tomorrow. Some choose to go to the Dog park and seek out others who walk their dogs, but most just keep the monster tied up at home. I chose the latter. I believed I could tame it myself. I believed that I am the master of my own destiny. Sometimes I wished a train would come and just fast track over me, but then I would take a step back and watch it go by. I am not ready to get on yet.

Maybe some day I will.

But not Today. Today I will chuck aside that leash and let him stare at me through the door. Yes it makes me sad as I can hear him whimper to let him in, But I won’t. He can come back another day. Even if it makes me cry.

Where is your train taking you? Will you allow the dog to take you there? Will you take him with? Will he pull free when you get on and watch? Yes he most probably will. Will the black dog comfort the family who stays behind or make them feel it’s their fault too? See the cycle?

Can one get rid of this dog? I don’t really want him. But he is there. Sometimes he leaves me alone for days. Sometimes for weeks, but never underestimate this bastard, he is always lurking and waiting.

Two more babies came along. Twice again I endured the times, the changes, the abuse, the belief that things would become better but it never really did. Yes it was not always bad and dark and miserable. There was plenty of good times too. Times when the Black Dog dissapeared for weeks. Sometimes months, but I knew it would always come back. And it always does.

What made it come back? Why won’t it leave me alone? Why can he not leave you alone? Do you have the answers?

Long before we had Google and Wikipedia and Social media we had known nothing about getting rid of the dog. Today everyone’s a fucking google expert.

Some days I feel like curling up in a ball and going to sleep and never waking up again.

Some Days I feel like allowing myself to be swallowed up in the pity pool and sometimes I just say Fuckkit, I don’t need you.

Sometimes I drive my car and wonder how it would feel to just swerve the car slightly into oncoming traffic, but then I wonder how you, my children would feel? Would you even know that I had a passenger? Do you ever see my Black dog? You must have seen me take that leash with me. Will you take care of my Black dog or will he take care of you?

I don’t care much for how you feel at times. I care more for wanting you to care about how I feel. ( Selfishness? ) Yes, I have become selfish. I want the Dog all for myself. I do not want to share him with anyone. I love the fact that I do not need to feed him but that he feeds me well.

I have learnt well from The Black Dog. He makes me keep quiet when I need to be quiet. I have a corner I can go to you know. Yes I know you know where my corner is. My corner is my safety blanket? What’s yours? Your bed? Your husband/boyfriends arms? I wish I still had a Husband who could or would hold me and make me feel that he would protect me from the Black Dog. That had stopped years ago. I have just me. I used to have you, my children I could hold, but you too have pulled yourselves away as you found other arms to fall into. I would do anything to have that safety blanket again, But I also know it will never be so. We are both still alive, but we are both dead inside. We have our own lives to live. Although together we are not. Same house different spaces. We have learnt to respect each others spaces. Do not enter mine and I will not enter yours. Are we feeding off each others self pity? Maybe we are.

I am done arguing when I know before I even started that I would get blamed for anything and everything that will follow. I believe that I am to blame. 100% I am to blame. I caused the problem, I raised the problem. I created it and therefore try my best to not even begin. I cannot Cook, I cannot Clean, I cannot drive, I cannot think, I cannot reason. My Black dog does it for me.

You, My own children sometimes call me names and think it’s funny. To you it may, be but for me it is torture of the worst kind. It is worse than being hit by a school bully. You make me feel that I have failed you. I suppose I have and I will live with that. I had one chance to get it right and I failed. For that I am sorry. I will live with the regret and can only wish for acceptance and forgiveness. I see you taking up your own leashes and walking those dogs. They pull you along. There is no taming them. They tame you. Please do not ever pass those leashes on to the person who depends on you. They may not be able to let it go either.

Your dogs are still Puppies and mine has almost reached it’s final phase in Life. I am hoping and praying that you will find a way to let go and send them away before they take charge of your lives.

We are women and we believe we are strong. Let me tell you a little something: You are stronger today than you will ever be tomorrow. Use today to conquer Today. Let tomorrow come and bring the Black dog with it. Just conquer that as well.

I had to… Because I had YOU.