Trouble always comes in threes

This is a follow up to my previous post “My worst week”. I’m only writing about this now, because the first few nights I was still so traumatised that whenever I closed my eyes, I could see it happening over and over again).

Trouble always comes in threes:

1. First it was my dad’s condition getting worse (he was one week in hospital, two weeks in Stepdown facility, spending his 74th birthday there).
2. Then my dog died in the same week that my dag was in hospital.
3. As luck would have it, on the same day (Monday, March 25) that my dad was coming home, I had a freak accident. I was a bit late and my arms were full carrying things to my car while walking down the stairs. But first I had to open our security gate. I then dropped a few items and as I was bending down to pick it up, my feet slipped out from under me. It happened so fast, I grabbed the gate to stop my falling but in doing so, my right thigh got spiked by the metal from the gate. So, I was literally hanging there for an hour and a half.
   First I called my mom for help and when she saw what happened, she completely freaked out. She called a nurse friend of hers (their plan was to pull my leg up out of the gate, but it was too painful) so then they called the ambulance. It took them 15 minutes to get to our house. Then, it took them a while to figure out how to get me loose and for the drugs to set in (so I would not feel any pain).
   While I was hanging there, my whole weight resting on my left arm (it was blue afterwards), I comtemplated on how quickly one’s life can change. I tried to think of other things like work (people told me afterwards that I seemed very calm) and the absurdity of life.
   By the time the drugs kicked in, they decided to cut a piece of the gate loose with a grinder. I sort of lost consciousness at that point, except that I could still hear everything that the others were saying, which is quite bewildering. I wanted to tell them that I could still hear them, but I couldn’t because I was in a dreamlike state.
   Finally, I was loose (well sort of, the piece of gate was still stuck in my thigh) and I was carried to the ambulance. This is when one of the paramedics slipped the gate out of my wound.
   I have always wondered what it must be like to travel by ambulance, and I can now tell you it is no picnic! You can’t see where you are going and it kept feeling like I was going to fall off the bed. I started crying and the paramedic tried to console me.
   Luckily, when I got to the hospital, they helped me straight away. I don’t think I was awake during the procedure of stitching up the wound, I only came to afterwards. The doctor booked me off for a week.
   This past Friday, the doctor finally removed the stitches and staples from my leg, but it is still covered with a plaster as it is not healed completely yet.
   Here is a picture of the gate (the left part of the right oval went through my thigh):
   

It’s only afterwards I can joke about it and say I was spiked. It is amazing how sharp those points are. In hindsight, it was a good thing my dog wasn’t around anymore… I shudder to think what she would have done (licking or eating my wound – gross!).

The worst week…

Last week was the worst week. Two of my fears were realised.

Firstly, on Sunday we had to send my dad to hospital because he was having fits and we couldn’t communicate with him because he could only make sounds. It started out as an infection, but the doctor says he believes it is the next stage in his Parkinsons. Now he is in the stepdown facility, but my mom says it’s not looking good. They had to tie him to a chair yesterday as he couldn’t sit upright on his own. If he cannot do anything by himself anymore, he won’t be coming home and will probably have to go live in a frail care home.

Secondly, I came home on Wednesday to find my dog could not stand on her hind legs anymore. I had to take her to the vet to put her to sleep. She was 15! I am 34 now – I got her in my matric year. The first two days was hell. The house is empty and quiet without her. Everything reminds me of her.

Pinky.

Last week felt like a whole month.

Daar is ‘n slang … in die huis!

So paar Saterdae gelede sit ek rustig in my kamer en ek hoor net my ma gil. Ek dog toe eers dis my pa wat floutes kry en sy sukkel om hom op te hou met haar een arm.

Maar toe ek in die TV-kamer kom skree my ma “Slang! Help! Hier is n slang in die huis!” En sy slaan met haar skoen sodat dit nie naby haar moet kom nie (wat natuurlik niks gehelp het nie). Dit het die ding net meer verward gemaak.

“Slaan dood!” skree my ma.

“Nee, ma dis net ’n huisslang! Hy sal ma niks maak nie,” probeer ek keer.

Maar ek is self te bang om aan die ding te vat. Ek gaan haal my swemhanddoek in die kamer en probeer onbeholpe die slang vang. Sodra ek die handdoek oor die slang wil gooi, seil dit woerts weg!

Later is die slang onder die stoel in en ek moet die stoel oplig. Die slang skiet daar uit en my ma gil weer.

“Nee, nee, nee! Ek wil nie ’n slang in die huis hê nie!” My ma is nou na aan huil.

“Die slang is banger vir ma as ma vir hom,” probeer ek paai.

Pinky lê natuurlik op haar kussing asof sy van niks wis nie.

Die uiteinde is ek het die skuifdeur oop en die slang uitgekeer met die handdoek.

Maar nou wonder ek: was dit net n huisslang of iets anders? Dit was ligbruin … Huisslange is mos donkerbruin met patrone?

In elk geval, dis die eerste keer in my 34 jaar wat ek ’n slang by ons huis sien. Dankie tog vir TV-programme soos Snakes in the City anders sou ek net so histeries soos my ma tekere gegaan het.

Milestones

Last year, marked the 10 year anniversary of this blog and this week I realised as of this year, it’s been 20 years since I started my first days of high school. Yikes!

Other random things:
I treated my parents to cream soda floats, spent most of the day playing a game on my phone and or finishing a page turner (I found you). The neighbours flew their drone around again, I listened to music while in the bath and then Jaws theme song came up.

Bagabu! (If you know from which this song this expression comes, I’d be really impressed!).

The time is NOW!

I was supposed to have posted this on New Year’s Day as part of my New Year’s resolutions. But I didn’t. During the December holidays, I had four weeks’ time to write anything, but I didn’t. I’ve fallen in some kind of rut and I couldn’t get out of it. Until I realised, the only person keeping me from achieving my goals and reaching my dreams is me.

So, instead of telling myself “I’ll do it later”, which of course always turns into never, I’m going to do it NOW. This is my motto for the year. Or if when I’m at work, I’m going to make an appointment with myself and spend time working on my writing and playing the violin. These two goals suffered horrendously last year. I did do a Children’s Book writing course, but then it stopped.

I realised I was going to have to make a hard decision: do I still want to pursue these dreams/goals or am I willing to give them up? But before just giving up or postponing it by not doing anything about it, I’m going to at least try this year. Because by not trying, you are already failing (another motto). If at first you don’t succeed, try try again (another motto).

I’m also thinking of publishing some of my poems in an anthology – even if it is just for myself – I’m not entirely convinced other people would want to buy a book of poems by me. I’m rereading some of my poems for motivation.

That’s all for NOW. I am extremely proud of myself (and relieved) that I got this far today.

Man’s Search for Meaning – Viktor Frankl

At our last book club meeting of the year, I had to hunt deep to come upon this gem. I remember we touched on Frankl in my first year Philosophy course at uni. Sadly, I couldn’t keep up with all the reading material, so I didn’t pursue a career in Philosophy.

If there is one book you must read, this is one I will recommend.

For those of you who don’t know, Viktor Frankl was a Jewish doctor who was sent to the Nazi concentration camps during World War 2. Usually, tales from this genre include sad, horrendous details of mass murder. Not this book though. Frankl shows you how he found hope in the most unlikeliest of places.

First published: 1946

Rating: 5/5

Where is the dog?

I finally got up the nerve to watch Un Chien Andalou (An Andalusian Dog) by Salvador Dali and Luis Bunuel.

I knew it was going to be weird and bizarre but I guess I wasn’t prepared for all the disturbing imagery. Watch the silent short film at your own peril.

For one a woman’s eye gets cut by a man holding a razor. Why? Well, it was based on a dream that Luis Bunuel had. Next there is a man looking at his hand with ants coming forth from it. This is based on a dream Salvador Dali had. They shared their dreams with each other and decided to make a movie about it.

Both Bunuel and Dali are Surrealists, and Surrealism is based on dreamlike (or in this case nightmarish) imagery.

What is perhaps most disturbing is that there are no sense of logic and none of the scenes or actions are connected. The two artists wanted to create something that would shock audiences. It was pretty revolutionary and unprecedented for its time: it came out in 1929.

Unfortunately, audiences loved it (for some reason).

* Spoiler alert: there is no dog. The title is derived from a Spanish saying “the Andalusian dog howls – someone has died”.

You cannot sleep when you’re dead!

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

Whenever I hear someone saying this, I just want to hit them with a chair.

You cannot sleep when you’re dead and I will prove it to you.

Sleeping is a bodily function. When you die, your body dies. No body = no sleep.

Depending on what you believe, when you die:
– you either end up in heaven/hell
– reincarnation (become a different living being)
– roam the earth as a ghost/become a vampire (still alive)
– become worm food.

Vincent van Gogga – Philip de Vos

Spoiler alert: Ek love die konsep van hierdie storie! ‘n Gogga op ‘n sigeunervrou se kop! Sies!

Oorsig:
Die verhaal van Vincent van Gogga begin in ‘n pretpark, op ‘n leë erf in ‘n groot stad. Langs die spooktrein waar kinders die hele dag gil en skree, en langs die stalletjie met die Donald Duck-eende wat hul koppe heen en weer draai, heen en weer draai, staan ‘n donkerblou woonwa, vol sonne en mane en sterre geverf. En op die sykant van die woonwa pryk in groot geel letters: MADAME ZELDA EGIPTIESE SIGEUNER VIR LIEFDE, GELD EN GELUK.
Nou sal die leser wonder: Wat op aarde het madame Zelda en haar woonwa vol sonne en mane en sterre uit te waai met Vincent van Gogga? Wie de joos is Vincent van Gogga? Die antwoord hierop is baie eenvoudig, liewe leser: Lees en vind uit! (Oeps, spoiler alert!)

Gepubliseer: 1990

Rating: 5/5 Ek hou veral van die kunsverwysings en verdraaiings soos Van Gogga (Van Gogh), skilferye (skilderye)

The Curious incident of the dog in the night-time

By Mark Haddon

Synopsis: A murder mystery novel like no other. The detective, and narrator, is Christopher Boone. Christopher is fifteen and has Asperger’s Syndrome. He knows a very great deal about maths and very little about human beings. He loves lists, patterns and the truth. He hates the colours yellow and brown and being touched. He has never gone further than the end of the road on his own, but when he finds a neighbour’s dog murdered he sets out on a terrifying journey which will turn his whole world upside down.

First published: 2003

Rating: 4/5 Not because it is badly written, but only because I couldn’t understand the seriously, complicated math problems in the book.

Reading this book, reminded me of another one I read back when I was in school. It is also based on a person with unique, special needs. I always like to read about these people to try and understand how they experience life.

On being Sarah by Elizabeth Helfman

Synopsis: Twelve-year-old Sarah Bennett has the same wishes that many girls have: she hopes she will like her new school and will find friends there. She wants to see more of the world, and dreams about what she might do, about who she will become. But Sarah is also different from most girls; she was born with cerebral palsy. She must move about in a wheelchair, and she cannot speak but uses a symbol board. Sarah has a lot to say, though – when she makes a school friend, Maggie, who learns to read Sarah’s symbols; when she takes a disastrous trip to the zoo with her family; and when she meets Johnnie, a boy who can’t walk, but who gives her glimpses of new worlds. Sarah’s life is filled with adventure – enough for any girl.

First published: 1993

Rating: 5/5

The symbols Sarah uses to communicate are called “Bliss symbols”. It was invented by Charles K. Bliss as a means to communicate with people from different languages. He wanted to create an east-to-learn international auxiliary language. He was inspired by Chinese characters. If you want to learn more, check out this website: Blissymbols

Here are some examples: