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