The final countdown

Well here I am finally… It has been more than a month since my last post. Look I never professed to be the world’s most diligent blogger!

Truth be told the past six weeks have passed by in a blur. The week before my precious baby was born was tumultuous to say the least, so much so that the day of his birth arrived quite unceremoniously because we were so distracted by the events of the days leading up to it. I didn’t even pack my hospital bag until 10pm the night before he was born.

But, I am pleased to say that the moment of his arrival into the world was no less momentous than it would have otherwise been. He is my precious angel, our shining light amidst the gloom.

Here’s how it all unfolded:

Monday 14 December

Michael takes his mom to the doctor out of concern over her swollen ankles. He was worried that it might have something to do with her kidneys. She’s also been fading away little by little. She is so thin and seems to have lost all interest in life – everyone writes it off to stress from Michael’s dad’s illness and paraplegia, as well as her own seemingly harmless ailments (chill-blanes and arthritis in her hands). We couldn’t have been more wrong.

At about 17:30 Michael walks in the door looking as if he had seen the Ghost of Christmas past. I was playing “snap” with Cameron in the lounge and when Michael mouthed something inaudible, pointing to his chest, I got up without a clue of what he was about to tell me.

“I think my mom has breast cancer” he says and starts crying. So he tells me that the doctor had decided to run a batch of blood tests to figure out the cause of the swollen ankles and his mom had become hysterical. Michael couldn’t understand what her fuss was all about and on the way home was trying to console her saying that it is just due diligence to find out if her kidneys and liver were working as they should. He proceeds to tell her that she needs to start taking better care of herself and eating properly because everyone is concerned over her dramatic weight-loss and what seems to be a depression.

At home, she breaks down and tells Michael and his dad that she thinks she has an infection in her breasts. She also tells them of a lump she discovered in one breast over a year ago. They call Michael’s cousin Luanne (a physiotherapist) to come over and have a look as Margaret does not want to show Michael or his dad what’s going on under her shirt.

Luanne takes one look and whisks her off to a friend who is a doctor. The friend is dismayed by what she sees and is convinced at first glance that it is breast cancer. She also diagnoses a severe infection of the tissue and nipples and prescribes a brute-force strength antibiotic, painkillers and stress medicine.

Michael goes back to his folks’ house when they get back from the doctor. His mom is beyond hysterical. I stay at home wondering why on earth this is happening to my husband now – not after everything he has already gone through with his dad.

Tuesday 15 December

Luanne and her doctor friend have arranged a batch of tests to be run, including a biopsy, mammogram, needle aspiration, ultrasound and blood tests. Luanne offers to take Margaret for her tests as Michael is closing up the business for the holidays.

I go off to our last gynae appointment on my own. Dr Haacke tells me that my little baby has not yet engaged and is sitting very high. The cord is also round his neck. A c-section is recommended. I am happy with that. I just want him to be brought into the world without hiccup. I would never jeopardise his health or safety by insisting on a normal birth.

I spend the rest of the afternoon with my mom and dad. Michael goes to his dad as company as the await Margaret’s return.

At 18:00 I join him. She arrives home at about the same time. She is bent over and her sister, Anne, is helping her walk. She looks at me through eyes that are swollen almost shut. I am shocked by what I see. She is worn out from all the crying and ravaged by the tests.

We sit down at the kitchen table with cups of tea as Anne explains the events of the day. Margaret is spaced out on painkillers and talks very slowly. The tissue around her breast is so infected and so hard from the cancer that they were unable to perform a mammogram. The anaesthetic also didn’t work as a result and the biopsies were done regardless with Margaret screaming in pain.

The cancer is at an advanced stage – stage four. Margaret admits that she has actually known about the lump for two years.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone” I ask her. “If you had told us sooner and we had gotten it treated sooner, the prognosis would be better”.

“I didn’t want to upset anyone. Peter has been ill and I have had to look after him. Then there’s the business. I haven’t had time to think about this. I have just carried on. I was planning to tell you and get help in the new year after the baby is born” she says.

Wednesday 16 December

I wake up crying my eyes out – although I had hardly slept. I am upset that Margaret is so ill. She is a good, gentle person. She looked after Michael’s gran when she was sick and she has been caring for Michael’s dad throughout his ordeal. She doesn’t deserve this.

I also hate seeing my husband so sad and deflated. As if having his dad in his condition isn’t bad enough!

I am sad that my little boy’s birth on Friday is marred by this terrible revelation. It has become the focus of everyone’s attention – although quiet rightly so I suppose.

But, I am angry with Margaret for not seeking help earlier. I understand her fear of not wanting a breast cancer diagnosis to be confirmed. But, I am still angry. Despite her efforts to keep her secret from us in order to avoid upsetting everyone, it has come out at the worst possible time. My baby is coming in two days and it’s Christmas in a week.

I am devastated that we have been robbed of being able to enjoy his arrival. It has been the most awful year and for us. Our new son’s birth was meant to be a turning point. Now we (well especially Michael) have this to worry about on top of everything else.

My mom insists that we should still go to the braai we have been invited to. We need some distraction. We stop by Margaret and Peter in the morning anyway. Margaret is in bed. She looks so frail. I think the trauma of the pervious day’s tests have worn her out. Looking at her lying there, I don’t think she’ll survive another five minutes. My parents arrive to spend the day with them to keep Peter company and ensure that they eat something decent for lunch.

Thursday 17 December

I wake up crying again. I have hardly slept a wink. It’s been like this for the past few weeks – being unable to sleep through that is. Now it’s made worse because when I wake up at 3am for a toilet trip and I am unable to go back to sleep, my mind is filled with thoughts of what’s happening to our family, how are Margaret and Peter going to take care of themselves, how are we going to cope with the trials of her treatment, how will Michael cope she passes away, why cant the bad stuff just stop and, why cant we just enjoy our baby’s birth without having this cloud hanging over it?

We spend the day with Cameron and then head to my mom’s for dinner. Cameron is sleeping there because we have to be at the hospital at 6am and I don’t want to haul him out of bed before dawn.

I make a promise to myself that I will not think of anything else on Friday other than the arrival of my sweet baby. I will not let his birth happen without notice. I am going to acknowledge and celebrate his arrival and life – even if it is at a time when our family is in turmoil.

After making this pact with myself, I start getting very excited. I pack our bag for hospital and I get such a thrill folding up his tiny little clothes all ready for him and carefully checking that I had everything he would need during our stay in hospital.

Friday 18 December

Not surprisingly, I wake up just after 3:30am but instead of worrying about everything else, I think about the fact that I am meeting my little boy in a few hours. I am truly happy. At 5am, we get up and get ready for the hospital. It is such a different experience to going into labour and Cameron’s birth. The birds are chirping and we take a slow drive to the hospital.

We are on a long list of women giving birth. Dr Haacke has his own patients and is also filling in for another gynae who is on holiday. All in all, there are ten caesars and two inductions scheduled – 12 babies are to be born that day. There is an air of excitement in the maternity ward as 12 anxious moms and dads-to-be settle themselves in their rooms.

We are steered to bed 8A. I hadn’t booked a private room and I was a little concerned about who I might be sharing with. Fortunately, it is a lovely woman having her third son. Her husband has a great sense of humour. I feel relieved.

I am prepped straight away. We are forth on the list but don’t know what time we will go into theatre. I phone my mom to see how Cameron is and to let her know that they needn’t rush down – we’ll phone when baby is born.

I am not expecting what she has to say… Cameron had a terrible fever in the night and was complaining of “sore pipes”. She says she’ll book an appointment with the doctor and let me know as soon as she knew what was wrong with him. I am very upset. Cameron hasn’t been sick for ages. In fact, I cant remember the last time I took him to the doctor with a fever or anything else like that. Isn’t it Murphy’s Law that he’d get sick on the very day that his baby brother is born?

I go through a slump where I am so thirsty and so tired that I don’t know if I’ll make it through the Caesar. I feel completely and utterly drained. I am so happy that I am not giving natural birth – there’s no way I would have made it. I just close my eyes and fall asleep. It couldn’t have been very long but I wake up feeling better. Maybe the drip made me feel better too. I am not sure.

Just after 9am, they wheel me through to the theatre – it was happening… I was going to meet my baby boy. Michael is walking behind the bed as two nurses push me. He has the biggest smile on his face. I will never forget it. He is just looking at me and I am looking at him. We are both smiling. NOTHING ELSE matters at that moment. Not his dad’s paraplegia, not his mom’s cancer, not the business, not Cameron’s fever.

Dr Haacke’s assistant and the anaesthetist speak to us about what is going to happen. Shortly after that we see a baby being wheeled passed, next his mommy… Then it is our turn.

They wheel me into the theatre. There is music playing. Dr Haacke turns to say hello. I can hear the smile in his voice. The spinal is done – far less painful than the epidural was with Cameron. They pinch and prod and ask if my legs have gone numb yet. I cant feel my legs but I can still feel needle-like pricks in my pelvic area. I tell Dr Haacke so. He says, “well I am glad that’s all you can feel because if you knew and could actually feel what I had just done to you, you would be screaming in pain. The spinal is working because you would be feeling much more than that.”

I have to admit that while I did not feel any pain, the strange tugging feeling I could feel was pretty scary. I cant describe how it feels. I guess it’s just how you’d expect to feel if someone was scooping out your insides and digging around in your belly! I was a bit anxious and started to cry – just a little.

Michael is fixated on what Dr Haacke is doing. He musters a “you’re doing well” every now and then. It’s all up the anaesthetist to console me. He is wonderful. He cradles my head in his hands and strokes my hair and tells me bit by bit what I am feeling. It soothes me and makes me feel so much better. So the crying is short-lived.

Within minutes the big tug happens and Nicholas is born. The clock says 09:55am. Dr Haacke exclaims: “he’s no shrimp”, so I know he must be a fair size!

I cant believe it when they say he is out because the big tug felt no bigger than the tugs I had been feeling before that. Then I hear him cry. What a beautiful sound! At that moment I think to myself, how could anyone ever live their life without hearing that sound – a baby’s first cry?

Then they give him to me. I am all strapped up of course so he is placed on my chest – all wrapped up. He feels so warm. I am elated.

Michael leaves with him as he is taken to the ward. I close my eyes while I am stitched up. I feel so relaxed. After that I was wheeled to recovery where a nurse sits with me for half an hour talking to me, asking me questions and taking my blood pressure. All I want to do is sleep until I can go to my new baby and properly see what he looks like. I also want to phone my mom to see if Cameron is ok. It is the longest wait.

As soon as I get back to my room, I phone my mom. Cameron has a throat infection and has been put on antibiotics. The doctor feels confident that it is not contagious and that it is safe for him to visit his new brother. They are on the way!

I finally get to hold my baby properly about half an hour after being wheeled back to my room. My mom, dad and Cameron are already there. He is warm, wrapped up and perfect. I cant stop staring at him. I loved him instantly that I can tell you.

My mom tells me that when they looked into the nursery and she asked Cameron which baby he thought was his brother, he pointed to Nicholas!

There were so many things that distracted me from the pregnancy. It flew by so fast. It was nothing like the arduous waiting I remember of my pregnancy with Cameron. It was like Nicholas had made his way into my life without me really noticing. Now he is here. He is my little boy. He and his brother are everything to me.

As it turned out, Cameron took a turn for the worse despite being on antibiotics and Michael and I took the decision not to let him come back to the hospital in case he passed it onto Nicholas – that’s all we needed. What this meant is that Michael couldn’t languish around at the hospital like he did when Cameron was born. He had our big boy to look after.

On the Monday (21 December) he took Cameron back to the doctor because his fever had rocketed in the night. He was prescribed more antibiotics and had to go back daily for an injection. I came out of hospital that day. I was desperate to see Cameron but we decided that it would be safer to have him stay with my mom until he was better.

It broke my heart to come home and not have him here. I couldn’t believe that he was so sick and I couldn’t even look after him. He had a few more fever spikes which upset me terribly because I wasn’t with him. I also felt awful that my mom was having to deal with it. He came home on 23 December once we were sure he was better. I am enormously happy to have them all home.

Throw us a bone here please

When I look at Michael, how tired he looks, and when I get up in the night for a toilet trip and see that he is lying awake, I wonder how long it is going to take for him to crack.

It worries me so much. His dad cannot even get out of bed into his wheelchair anymore. Michael goes there every morning and every night to help him. In between, he runs around for them and is still single-handedly running the business. He takes on so much. I am sure I would do the same for my parents but I worry so much about him. This thing with his dad is all-consuming, and it is impacting on our whole family.

I have developed shingles along my neck and on my left shoulder. The doctor says it’s from stress. I didn’t think I was stressed but I guess I am. I suppose the body has a way of defying you. I am in terrible pain. It’s a deep nerve pain. Shoo… but all I can have is panado. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. I am just relieved that it cannot affect my baby.

We went to Jana’s mom’s funeral yesterday. So sad for Jana to have lost her mom. They were so close, and Jana has just had another little baby. Everyone wants their mom with them at times like this. And she suffered so much. She died a slow and painful death. The cancer literally ate her up.

It made me wonder about Michael’s dad and what’s going on with his body. How long will his body be able to carry on? What is it that is causing it? Will he ever be functional again? What does the future hold and when will it be us holding his dad’s funeral? I know Michael was thinking the same thing when they carried Jana’s mom’s coffin into the church.

What’s happening to his dad is so sad and so demoralising. I know it’s hard for them. I know Michael’s mom is taking strain but she isn’t helping the situation at all. She is crumbling and I believe she is making herself sick. I wish she would be stronger. She doesn’t realise what added burden she is placing on my husband by being this way.

Today I feel so desperately tired. I can’t imagine how Michael feels. I just wonder when things are going to get easier for my husband. He has so much on his plate trying to care for his parents and run a business. He is so distracted and so consumed by this drama. I don’t think he even realises that our new baby boy will be here in seven weeks.

Ah… I got to hold Jana’s baby Elizabeth (named after her mom) yesterday. She is so lovely. You forget how small, fragile and un-coordinated they are. I can’t actually wait to hold my squirmy-wormy baby.

On the way home from fetching Cameron from my parents after the funeral, he was all smiles telling me about how brave he was having his measles injection –although it was sore, he says, he didn’t even cry. Looking at his bright face in the rear view mirror I just thought how when everything else in life seems to be getting on top of me, I look at my precious boy and I realise that nothing is so bad that you shouldn’t be able to smile.

Ketchup

Well I am really no good at this blogging thing am I? It’s been ages since my last post. I have just been so busy. But, being busy is nice so I am not complaining.

I went for my 30 week check up yesterday. Everything is going fine with our bubs. He weighs around 1.6 kilos now. I have just eight weeks until he arrives as my gynae is going to induce me on the 18th of December.

Time is just flying by. I can’t believe how fast it has gone. At the same time, it couldn’t have gone all that quickly because so much has happened since I found out I am pregnant. Strange how time can go so fast and so slowly at the same time. I can’t say it has been a terribly easy time either.
Michael’s dad’s condition has deteriorated so immensely since the start of the year and seems to have progressed at an alarmingly rapid rate since he was first hospitalised in July. Since then, he has been back in hospital twice. The last stint, he was in for three weeks. He is now wheelchair bound and so weak that he can hardly manoeuvre himself in and out of his wheelchair to get into bed or onto the toilet. His upper body is also losing strength and his hands shake.
The doctors are still unsure of what is causing his paralysis and other symptoms. He has been for countless tests. They are treating him for two different things at the moment. The first diagnosis of transverse myelitis (a disease of the spine) has been discarded because he didn’t respond to the treatment and the disease did not follow the typical disease progression. He is due to go for an angiogram tomorrow.
His mom is also not in the best shape. She has literally shrunk to half her size from the stress of it all and she has developed arthritis and chillblanes in her hands which have rendered her unable to do much with them.
It is hard to watch Michael worry so much about his dad, and because neither of his parents can drive, he has to do all their running around – from grocery shopping, to trips to the hospital and pharmacy, and then everything to do with the business. He is also trying to fix up their house to sell – it’s too big for them to cope with in the condition they are in. It is so bizarre how everything has spiralled like it has in such a short space of time. Michael has aptly termed it “a mess”. I wonder when it will start to get better.
One of the highlights of the past month has most certainly been the arrival of my new yorkie baby in my life, Duke. We brought him home on the 24th of September so he’s been with us for almost a month. He is so beautiful and so perky. My heart feels like it could burst when I look at him. Tyson surprised us by accepting him. Yes, there were a few hair-raising moments where Duke was irritating Tyson and he got snapped at, but now things have settled down and Tyson, in spite of himself, has warmed up to Duke and plays so gently with him. They race around the garden and Duke barks with glee.

It reminds me so much of when Gizzy and Tyson were puppies. I can still hear Gizzy’s bark in my mind. Losing him was so devastating for me – nothing like losing a human life I am quite sure. Still, it was very hard for me. Duke makes me feel happy all over again. And, to think that I have a husband who understands how much I loved Gizzy and the great sense of loss I felt when he died that he drove me to Cullinan to find this little guy – just to make me happy. I am truly blessed.


Since I last posted, two of my friends have given birth to their daughters. Congrats to Jana on the arrival of baby Elizabeth and Candice on the arrival of baby Alexis. It seemed like we fell pregnant quite quickly one after the other. Now that their babies are here, I realise I am next in line.

I am looking forward to our little boy arriving. Cameron can’t wait either. He’s always asking me when his baby brother is going to hatch. Still have so much to do before he comes though. I hope time continues to fly and go very slowly at the same time. That way, I will be meeting my baby really soon but I will still have time to get everything done that I need to get done before December.

Not second prize to me

I know that I was disappointed when I first found out that the baby I am carrying is a boy. Wanted a girl - although, didn’t actually realise it until I was told for sure that I was having a boy. For two days a sulked about it. But, I am well over it now and I am excited about having another little boy. It will be wonderful for Cameron to have a brother. There will be a four-year age gap between them and the fact that they’ll both be the same gender somehow lessens this divide.

And, Cameron is so gorgeous! If his brother is as handsome, I will be known around town as the mom of “those two hot brothers”. We had a few of those boy-only families when I was growing up; those families of discerningly handsome sons. They were quite legendary some of them. They elicited an air of mystery. Countless girls used to obsessively ride their bikes passed their houses on the way home from school. We even had a pair of hotties that lived in our road.

So, although I get the occasional pang of desire to have a daughter to go shopping with and plan a wedding for, I am resolved that I am a boy mom. This is what God intended for us and I am happy about it.

I just wish everyone else would be too. Almost EVERY person I tell that I am having another boy is visibly disappointed for me. They dont even try to hide their own disappointment. Some have even gone as far as to say “oh shame”, some say “you’ve got your work cut out for you with two boys”, others keep asking if perhaps the doctor was wrong and that it could still be a girl and others say, “ag you’ll just have to try again” – like a girl is first prize and boy a consolation prize.

I know they probably don’t mean it and perhaps they are just saying these things because they expect me to be disappointed because they would be. But, it is starting to get up my nose. I would greatly appreciate some objectivity.

I have a son already and despite the normal challenges that come with raising any child – regardless of gender – he has been an absolute joy and pleasure. I wouldnt have him ANY OTHER WAY.

So, for me, and for Michael and for Cameron too, this little guy I am carrying is no second prize! He is first prize to us and we cant wait to get to know him.

I am the OROS lady

OK...now this weight gain issue is really starting to get me down. I got on the scale this morning and I am 2 kilos heavier than I was last Wednesday. How the f…k it happened I don’t know. Maybe its water retention – now that the weather is warming up. I do have a cankle (it’s my previously broken one though), so I do know that I am retaining water BUT STILL MAN!!!!

And the thing is I was actually feeling ok last week. I had only put on one kilo since my last antenatal check up the month before. Now this… and the injustice of it all is that I don’t even eat a lot. I am acutely aware of how the kilos can pack on in pregnancy. I was a house when I was pregnant with Cameron. I don’t want to be like that again and I have been extremely careful about what I eat. Yes a treat now and then but I am watching myself very carefully and I most certainly DO NOT east for two. And yet, here I am ballooning to epic proportions once again. I can just see that I am going to wack on in excess of 20 kilos just like last time.

It’s just so unfair. So many pregnant women I know just eat whatever they want – ice cream, cakes – you name it. And they put on ten kilos. I have already put on 12 and I still have three months to go.

Why does it always seem like I have to swim upstream? I try so hard and yet I put on the weight. Yes I know weight gain is inevitable in pregnancy and I am one of the unluckier ones. What I am most afraid of is that it won’t come off again when this is all over.

I feel like crawling into a hole.

Was it Friday the 13th by any chance?

This was my day yesterday...

06:30 – wake up with blocked nose and banging head ache (got flu again for the second time in three weeks)and get dressed.

07:30 – Give Cameron his breakfast – doesn’t want it in the bowl I have served it. Argument ensues and I switch off TV until he complies and eats out of the bowl I gave him

07:50 – On the way to school, Cameron moaning cos he doesn’t want to go today – says it is the weekend.

08:00 – arrive at school with radio on full blast (trying to drown sound of Cameron whining). I tell him to stop whining otherwise he cant watch Peter Pan tonight. Tells me he’s going to chop my arms off when he gets home. Get him in the school.

08:15 - Drive home already tired from altercations with Cameron.

12:30 – Go to pick up Cameron from school (no linga longa today for my sins). He wants to show me his tricks on the jungle gym and then on the trampoline. While I am watching him, he flies off the trampoline and lands on grass. Starts screaming – doesn’t usually do this when he hurts himself – usually to proud to make a scene. This time full performance. I realise something is wrong. Put him in the car – still crying. Ask him if he’s sore enough to go to the doctor – answer yes (now I really know something is wrong).

12:50 – Arrive at medicross. Wait for 40 mins to see doctor.

13:30 – See doctor – sends us for x-rays.

13:40 – in x-ray room, tell the woman I am pregnant. She tells me I cant go in with him. Cameron screaming cos doesn’t want to be held by her. Phone Michael come to the Medicross to go into the x-ray room with Cameron

14:15: Michael arrives at medicross. Tells me he’s parked next to my car and heard a hissing sound – discovered front right tyre is going flat fast.

14:30 – x-rays over and back in doctor’s room. Says no break but arm very swollen – a conocern. Suggests that there might be a green stick fracture that we cant see on x-ray. Advises that Cameron’s arm be put in a sling for a week. If not better in week, more x-rays.

14:45 - Michael goes to change tyre on car. Cameron and I go to casualty to get Cameron’s arm strapped up. Have to remove his jersey in this freezing weather otherwise wont be able to get it off later.

15:15 – get home from medicross and try to find clothes that will fit over the bandage. Only have two sleeveless vests and no jerseys big enough to fit over bandage. Reluctantly cut sleeve of one jersey and dress Cameron.

16:00 – Got to nearby shopping centre to buy some cheapie jerseys in a bigger size to fit over bandage. Reluctant to cuts sleeves off any other jerseys. Summer stock in. Could only find one. Will have to cut sleeves off his clothes after all.

If i didnt kow any better I would have thought it was friday the 13th

Marking Time

It’s almost been a week since my precious Gizzy left us. It hasn’t been the easiest week for me. Someone just needs to mention his name or I just need to see a photo of him and I start to cry.

After tomorrow, I will no longer be able to say that he was still here this time last week. I am getting further and further away from my baby dog. It is so unreal.

I found a website called Cybervets where you can post pet-related queries and a professional vet responds. So I wrote a long and detailed account of what had happened. See my mind was racing and running circles wondering whether there was more we could have done, whether the Dectomax (worm medicine) could have caused it and of course, whether I had made the right choice putting my beloved angel dog to sleep.

I received such a comprehensive, kind and compassionate response from the vet. He explained Yorkie Necrotising Encephalitis and Granulomatous Meningitis and their symptoms so thoroughly. He also explained that an abhorrent Spirocerca Lupi worm lodged in the spine or brain could also have caused Gizzy’s symptoms. He stressed that the Dectomax could not have caused his condition to slide as it did, which was a relief for me.

Whichever of the three possible diagnoses caused his demise I guess isn’t relevant since all of them – according to this vet – would have ended in a slow and painful death for my darling dog. He felt, like our vet felt, that putting Gizzy to sleep was all that was left to do. It was my final gift of love to my dog. This explanation and reassurance – for only R55 – has taken away some of the guilt I have been feeling and has given me a sense of relief that we did the right thing. This brings me some peace that is worth more that R1-million.

So here I am, marking time until the emptiness and huge sense of loss starts to dissipate. It just takes time I hear everyone say.

Gizzy, I will love you and miss you forever

My precious little dog, Gizzy, has been laid to rest. Saturday, 1 August was his last day. July was a long hard month for him too. I am heartbroken and I cannot stop crying. He was my precious baby dog. I cant sleep properly without him on my pillow. I used to roll over at night and feel for him. He was so soft and fluffy. He was always at my feet, followed me around like a little soldier. And that’s what he was right until the end.

Even on his last day, he tried not to show how horrible he felt and how un-coordinated he was. Like a little bambi, but instead of trying to walk on wobbly legs, he’d look up at me and beg me to pick him up, which of course I did. He spent almost the whole day of the last day of his life on my lap. He snuggled into me and I just held him and sat on the couch watching movies. Luckily it was a rainy day and we had no plans to go anywhere. I would never have forgiven myself if we had been out all day. I am so glad that I was there for him on his last day.

By the evening, he couldn’t really balance and had hardly eaten or drank anything the whole day. While he was sitting on my lap, he was making a laboured whimpering noise, which was exaggerated when I moved him. I don’t know if he was in pain but I think so. Then he wanted to go to Michael so I put him on Michael’s lap and I was in my office when he came in saying we needed to get Gizzy to the vet. He was whimpering quite loudly and he didn’t look good. When Michael put him on the floor because he thought he wanted to go outside for a wee, his little legs could hardly hold him up. They kept sliding apart.

So we rushed to the vet. It was just after 17:00. I had him wrapped in a towel. He was so small. He didn’t even try to move while we drove – usually he is all over the place in the car. I kept telling him that I love him very much.

When the vet saw his condition, she said it looked like his balance and coordination was off. The meningitis that he had was an inflammatory disease that affects the nervous system. Basically, his brain could not send messages to the rest of his body. He was uncoordinated and confused. His eyes looked lifeless. He just stared blandly in front of him. At the same time, it looked like he had had a fright. It broke my heart to see him like that.

She said that we had done everything that we could for him. He obviously had the type of meningitis that cannot be treated because even though he was on corticosteroids, his condition was deteriorating. There is no other treatment for the disease and he was on a heavy dose as it was. She advised that we put him to sleep.

Michael stayed with Cameron in the reception and I stayed with Gizzy. The vet took his tiny paw and administered the injection. I brushed his hair out of his eyes and told him I loved him. I kept my hand on his little body until she said he was gone. I didn’t even realise when he’d breathed his last. He still looked exactly the same. I put my face into his fluffy neck. I wanted to smell him one last time but my nose was so blocked from crying I couldn’t smell anything. I closed his eyes. She wrapped him in a blanket and that was it – all over.

My heart is broken into a million pieces. I loved that dog like I have NEVER loved another animal in my life. I don’t know how I will ever get over this. I am lost without him at my feet. I miss the way he used to dance in circles when I arrived home from being out somewhere. He was the most perfect yorkie I have ever seen. I cant stop crying. How will I ever get over this?

A sucker punch

I have spent most of the afternoon in tears – all because I was told this morning that I am having another boy. I am not proud of myself. In fact I am disgusted and I feel guilty.

I know there are millions of women out there who would love to be pregnant like I am now but they can’t fall pregnant. I am sure if they had to see me weeping today they would think I was pitiful. I am sure they would take whatever God gave them with open arms.

I will though – take this baby with open arms. I know I will love him just as much as I love Cameron. I just need time for the news to sink in. I had my heart set on a baby girl. Everyone else is having girls and everyone thought I was having a girl too. Cameron is excited about getting a baby sister – Robyn is what he’d like to call her. Says he’ll be upset if God gives him a brother.

Well after the year I have had – especially the last few months (such crappy luck), how on earth could I expect to get what I want anyway? Come to think of it, I never really get what I want. I always fall just short of getting what I want or I have to settle for second best.

Like with Gizzy for instance. My whole life – well as long as I can remember anyway – I have wanted a yorkie. But they are expensive dogs and living with my parents, I couldn’t just bring home a puppy without them agreeing.

So… the day after we signed the lease on our first house, I searched for a breeder and before Gizzy was even born I had my name down for him. I will never forget the day we went to fetch him. He was so small and so perfect, sitting in his little cage waiting for me to take him home. And boy have I loved this dog…

Now we have been told that on top of the spirocerca, he has Granulomatous meningoencephalitis (GME). It’s not like meningitis that we get. Instead it is an inflammatory disease of the central nervous system. Small toy breeds are more prone to it.

It is treatable and manageable but not curable. My dog is going to be on medicine for the rest of his life – which from what I have read on the Net isn’t going to be that long. The Vet says anything from 3 months to 3 years – depending on where the lesions are in his brain and how many.

So what it boils down to is this… my precious yorkie, one of the very few things I have ever REALLY wanted and ACTUALLY got, is compromised. He is not going to be mine for much longer. Go figure. I get my dog but on condition that I don’t get him for as long as I should.

And… I fall pregnant but not with the little girl I want.

I am not sure why I feel this way. Cameron has been wonderful; so wonderful that I should actually ten more boys like him. I know that if my second son is half as awesome as Cameron I am blessed.

I just feel desperately sad today. I suppose this news was just the cherry on the top of what truly has been one of the most trying months of my life.

I will forever hate July

So... the good news is that my mother in law has moved out. My father in law has been discharged from hospital so she's home (where she should be) taking care of him. I must say last week really took it out of me. It wasn’t this event – her staying with us – that bothered me, but rather the glimpse of the future that it gave me. I am scared for what might be when Michael’s dad passes one day.

I ended up broaching the subject with Michael. I had to. He found me crying at my desk on Sunday. I was at the end of my tether. I am pregnant and I had had too many sleepless nights in one week. I was just exhausted.

He had just ferried his mother home to do a few chores so we had our house to ourselves. I had been on the phone to my sister told me that I must talk to Michael. She said she has a book on building a successful marriage and there’s a whole chapter on this sort of thing. Couples should discuss before they get married whether or not parents will be taken in once one of them has died. She says that in the book the women says couples should agree on this kind of thing before they marry – just as they should be on the same page about whether or not to have children.

So he asks me what’s wrong. And I thought stuff it, I am bringing this up now because I have a right to. It’s upsetting me no end and I am not even sleeping at night because of it. I sob the way through it and tell him how I feel and that it’s not her staying with us now that is a problem (although it is) but the thought of her living here once his dad has passed.

He says he will never let that happen. He saw what it did to his parents to have his gran living there. He says his mom has always said she would never do that to Michael and Graham.

But you know, when your need not to be alone is so strong, you don’t care about anyone else. When she is faced with the world by herself, she won’t care about what it would do to us. She will just want support and want to feel safe. I don’t think she would live on her own.

Michael says he understands how I feel and isn’t cross with me for discussing it. Says it is an important discussion. He says that he and Graham are going to be sitting down with their folks once his dad is better to talk about selling that big house and getting something smaller. So, that’s the end of that sorry tale – for the time being anyway.

I have to be honest though, last week took it out of me. And when it ended, I thought – well at least that’s over. This week will be better. As it turns out, it hasn’t been remarkably better.

Gizzy is still a very sick dog. Since Tuesday, he’s been heading downhill. He can’t keep down his food and he seems to be in pain. Yesterday, he wouldn’t eat or drink and was so exhausted from just wondering aimlessly around in slow motion. Michael called the vet and picked up some pain medicine. We gave him his pain meds but last night he was in a similar state as he was last Tuesday when I had to leave him at the vet – I guess the medicine needed time to work. At about 11pm, he collapsed on my lap – finally in a peaceful sleep. He seems much better today. He’s eaten and he is moving around at a normal speed.

The vet warned us to expect bad day – but jeepers when she said bad – she meant BAD.

Cameron has also been testing the limits with me this week. I think he can see that I am not on top of my game and he’s praying on it, like a lion stalks the weakest buck at the watering hole.

But, I am still standing. When I look back on July 2009, I will remember it as one of the most trying and tedious months of my life. Thank God there’s only a few days left of it. Roll on August (my birthday month) and bring on the good stuff. It’s time for a change!

The foreign body in my house

I hate to start my blog off on a bad note. See I have been wanting to start a blog for ages and just havent gotten around to it. And, sadly the reality is that it is a sleepless night (the second one this week) that has finally given me the boot up the bum to do it!

Last night my mind was racing and I was gripped with fear - fear that one day I will have my mother-in-law living with me permanently. I lay awake from 10:30 when I got into bed, until 2:oo - well that's the last time I looked at the time on the alarm clock!

See this week started innocently enough. Monday wasnt a bad day at all. Gizzy seemed to be doing much better and he was finally eating without vomiting. He also barked with gusto at Martha for the better part of the day. I thought he ws on the mend - which I was elated about since my research into spirocerca lupi (Oesophageal worm) following this horrific diagnosis on Saturday had left me in tears for most of the weekend about whether or not he had much chance of survival.

Things took a turn for the worse at 23:00 on Monday night. My precious dog started salivating and vomiting bile. He was so weak that he kept falling off the bed and he was so restless I couldnt keep him still. Everyone who knows me will know how much I love this dog. I thought he was going to die, right there and then, in my house on a freezing cold July morning. I stayed awake with him all night wondering when he would take his last breath. Thanks to the grace of God, he didnt. And despite a treacherously long night, he made it to the next day. I was haggered. I hadnt slept and I had cried for most of the night.

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, Gizzy had made it to Cameron's room. I followed him there to find him lying by the heater. I decided to leave him there because I knew he was cold - he was shivering - and I hadnt been able to keep him still even in wrapped in a blanket. A while after that, I noticed the electricity had gone off - the glow of the alarm clock numerals had been extinguished.

Without so much as a cup of decaf coffee (there was no power to boil the kettle), I raced to my mom to drop Cameron and then back home to fetch Michael and a very sick Gizzy. We arrived at the vet within minutes of them opening. Gizzy was shaking profusely and his head was veering to one side in a most alarming manner. I cried as we explained the night's ordeal to the vet. She decided to keep him there for monitoring and told me to call at 17:00 that afternoon for feedback on his condition. I noticed (through my tears) when walking out of the vet that their power was on!

At home Michael discovered that it wasnt the neighbourhood that had gone down - just our house. The reason: Gizzy had tripped our electricity by chewing clear through Cameron's oil heater cable. He was lucky not to have been shocked to death.

Michael couldnt stick around. He had to rush to work and then onto his folk's house to pick up his ailing dad and take him to a neuro surgeon - he is (was) unable to drive. He has been suffering from lameness in the lower part of his body for months. Through a combination of fear (not wanting to know what's wrong), stubbornness and incorrect diagnosis from his long-standing GP, he has let his condition spiral downwards until on Friday last week, with the realisation that accupuncture and massage was getting him nowhere, he decided to go back the the doctor. His normal GP was sick, once again by the grace of God, so he saw another doctor, who immediately suspected a nerve problem and referred him to a specialist.

So on the day that Gizzy got booked into hospital so was my father-in-law. The neuro surgeon wanted him in hospital for tests and scans - no delays, no argument.

That evening I called the vet for an update on Gizzy. He hadnt vomited again and hadnt been salivating either - good signs. However, he wasnt eating and was diplaying some strange neurological signs (tremours, head veering to one side, back arched when walking) that were concerning her - such signs cannot be attributed to spirocerca. She wanted permission to conduct blood tests on him and recommended that he stay overnight. I suggested that the nervous signs he was showing could be due to the fact that he electrocuted himself the night before. Gizzy is also by nature a highly-strung chap. He is known to shake when he is stressed or unhappy. He is also kown to go on hunger strikes when we arent around.

Neverthless, I was worried too. Plus I needed a good night's sleep. I thought if he's in there, I wont have to watch over him all night. I need to rest. I am 17 weeks pregnant after all.

Michael returned from the hospital at about 18:00 after taking his mother (who doesnt drive) to the hospital with packed bags and supplies for his dad. While we were eating the phone rang - it was my mother-in-law; the MRI scans show a strange mass on father-in-law's spine; maybe a tumour; maybe not. Michael starts scratching his head. Tears begin to well up in his eyes. I hear him suggest that his mother comes to sleep the night. I understand - no one wants to be alone when they have received news like this. He gobbles his dinner and rushes off to fetch her.

I am so tired by the time she arrives, I can hardly keep my eyes open. My eye lids and cheeks are blood red and swollen. The events of the day and the night before are taking it's toll. I need to sleep - desperately. Nevertheless, I sit in the lounge and discuss father-in-law's condition and try to console mother-in-law and husband. It's the right thing to do. Can't be rude. It's who I am.

As the following day unravels, father-in-law is moved to another hospital in Pretoria because he cant be treated where he is - adding more fear and dispair to an already dark situation. I just knew there and then that mother-in-law will be with us again tonight. And shame, why not?

Gizzy (again by the grace of God) comes home that evening. His blood tests are all normal and he is no longer showing strange neurological signs. I am no vet but I would say that chewing through an oil heater cable might cause a tiny specimen like Gizzy to behave uncharacteristically. The vet explains that we need to expect bad days. He is has a long road to recovery, he is on this medicine for six weeks and he is going to go through stages of pain and discomfort. We must be prepared. She lets us take us home at dinner time, urging us to monitor him for any strange neurological signs - which, should they emerge again, will require further investigation.

Good news, Gizzy is home AND we hear that father-in-law doesnt have a tumour. The doctor feels confident that it is some kind of swelling / collection of fluid on the spine that can be treated with medicine. He has had a lumber punch and is doing much better.

So, although father-in-law is a sick man, he isnt terminal. No need to fear the worse. Everyone can rest peacefully that night. I think: maybe she will go home tomorrow.

Six days later, she is still here. I cant understand why. I am an independent kinda gal. Obviously I have my times where I need to be with people, when I need comfort, company and support. The thing is, I know where I live. I like my own home. When all is said and done, I would rather be in my own house, surrounded by my own things than in someone else's house. I expect most people are the same but they dont seem to be.

She could go home. There's no reason why she shouldnt. But she is still here. I am still cooking for her, I still cant watch TV in my own lounge in my jammies and I am bitter as all hell that my husband cant see that I am a little put-out by having a foreign body in my home. I cant voice it directly. That would be insensitive. I dont want to upset him or make him think his mother is unwelcome. It's not who I am.

Look dont get me wrong. I dont mind mother-in-law. She's not one to dispise like other mother-in-laws I know. But she can be a chore. I dont want to live with her. I cant be myself. I cant relax. Would he like to live in close quarters with my mother?

I know I might be getting ahead of myself and I think that it is the fear of the future that is making me most unhappy about her being here!!! But I cant help but think that this week, this intrusion, is a glimpse of what's in store for me in the future.

Michael's paternal grandfather passed away when Michael was a tiny baby. On his death bed, he requested that father-in-law take care of his mother. She moved in immediately and never left. She lived with them until she died.

Will history repeat itself here in my house? Is this what is in store for me when father-in-law is no longer around one day?

Mother-in-law doesnt drive. She is not independent. She doesnt have many friends. Who will she depend on? Who will drive her to the shops? Will she live on her own? Will it be my hubby who is called to these duties when father-in-law passes one day (hopefully in a very long time)? Will he make her his full responsbibility and move her in permanently?

I am telling you now that our marriage will not survive if he does. I will bow out gracefully before it turns me into a bitter and angry bitch.

And that's why I couldnt sleep last night