Archive for the ‘What service?!’ Category

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Roughed up

10 January , 2021

I can’t sleep. It’s been quite an evening, and my stomach is in knots.

My father in law phoned us to ask for help. His space cadette neighbour beat him up and kicked him all over the kitchen. This wasn’t the first time. So you can imagine, my husband was seeing red by the time we got there. I actually went with the exclusive purpose of trying to keep him calm and if possible wrapping this up before curfew.

Long story short…we called the police and nothing happened. The guy knows them. They said my FIL must go to the doctor tomorrow, and only after that he can lay a charge. And then they left. Okay bye old man who was just allegedly brutally assaulted and WannaBe-Viking neighbour who’s clearly as high as a kite and allegedly aggro to boot. May the force be with you…but not the actual police force. Clearly assault gets taken very “seriously” around here, what an absolute tragedy/travesty.

This muppet was on his best behaviour while they were there, and the moment they left he became quite threatening to all of us. It was obvious that he recons he’s untouchable, and even though he called us all sorts of names (really, all sorts) I went with my gut feel that I was the only one there he didn’t actually reeeeally want to hit. I think being a woman gave me a bit of an advantage there…he was obviously squaring up for a fight, but he wanted to hit or be hit by one of the men. Hard to not look like a shit when you hit a woman. Although beating up an old man is not much better, and that didn’t seem to bug him.

(But guy, you don’t know me, I’m not a classical damsel in distress. I CAN defend myself, and if you lay as much as a finger on me, I’d actually be the least of your worries and I’m pretty fierce even on my own.)

So I kept stepping in between him and my husband and FIL and telling him to back off. I’d say the last five minutes it could have gone either way, he was getting more aggressive and frustrated by the minute. I can speculate why, but so be it. We weren’t giving him what he wanted (I’m taking credit for this restraint by the way, everyone was keen to rumble. Side note: If I am ever the voice of reason, things are really not looking great). What we did do however was take a video of him threatening us all, haha…we’ll see how untouchable you are tomorrow, punk.

We couldn’t leave Andy’s dad there obviously, so we took him with us and made it home with minutes to spare before curfew. Tomorrow we’ll take him for the medical exam and to open a case. And very likely at a different police station that the one where the neighbour seems to know everyone. He’s not untouchable, despite what he seems to think.

And tomorrow we’ll also start arranging for Andy’s dad to go to Germany too. Whether he wants to or not. Too often we hear from him that he’s been mugged, or run over by a car or assaulted by this neighbour, or fell in an open manhole. It never ends, and I for one have had it now. He’s got family there and they’re all begging him to come live with them, but for some reason he wants to wait till we go and come to us. Andy and his dad are only barely on speaking terms as it is, and after almost three years together he still calls me sweetie cause he doesn’t know my name. Andy made it very clear that’s not happening. Ever. So he needs to take the options available to him and go somewhere where it’s safer for him.

I’m emotionally exhausted after this whole Jerry Springer-ish drama, but simultaneously so pumped with adrenaline that I can’t actually sleep. So I’m replaying events over and over in my head, and drowning my sorrows in numerous cups of Rooibos.

What. A. Day.

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The madness continues

4 August , 2020

So…Frankenboob is definitely on the cards. I had my follow up yesterday and the surgeon says it has to be done and ideally in the next month.

Great…not. Let’s put aside the emotional toll of this situation purely in how I think of my breasts, and focus for a moment on the emotional toll of all the admin involved in having myself mutalated. I have to fight for this thing that I’m not even sure I want. I have inner conflict and lots of it.

So all I have to do is figure out the series of secret handshakes needed by my Medical Aid to get authorisation for the procedure. They really don’t make it easy. I get a different sort of pain just thinking about the “process” I’ve been introduced to.

Also, on the new work front, I am starting to suspect I’m not built for shift work. The pace is insane! So I’m customer servicing all night and battling the Medical Aid by day. There is not much time for sleeping in between all of this. On top of all that, Nicola is often semi-histerical about me not being able to either be there for bedtime or there for homework during the day.

This would be a bit easier if I was an insomniac, but I’m not.

Anyhoo, enough of my whining. *yawn* I will take my self-pity and go and dunk it in a steaming hot bath. Everything looks better after a bubble bath. And then I’m going to disable all my alarms and sleep for more than 1.5 hours for a change.

Fuck. It. All.

There is only so much of me to go around, and that’s all there is to it.

How’s lockdown life treating you so far? Feels like we’re a thousand days into this, but it’s probably somewhere between 100 and 200 (we stopped counting at about 50 I think).

I’ve updated my life insurances, so on the off chance that I do somehow work myself to death, at least that is sorted out already.

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Highs and lows – looooong ramble

9 November , 2019

Yay…two weeks down out of three after the operation. This week I felt a lot better. I have the occasional stitch if I breathe in deeply or lie on my left side, but other than that I’m doing great and was just extremely cranky about the plasters that I’m meant to somehow keep on and keep dry.

Thursday was supposed to be D-day for my post op check up and plaster removal, but due to continuous admin f-ups from the doctor’s rooms I turned up for an appointment that no one bothered to let me know the doctor wouldn’t be attending. Grrr…

After some teeth showing and low level growling the reschedule was arranged for yesterday instead of next week Wednesday.

And so I am plaster free, mostly pain free…and counting down the days till I’ll no longer be coffee free (6 including today). I’ve started slooooowly reintroducing the things on the verboten list, and so far so good. I haven’t come accross anything that had me on the floor yet, so thankfully it seems I sit on the 2 side if the 2 to 3 weeks recovery advised by the dietician.

Chatted to my pal Lofty this week, we laughed so much my neighbour actually popped her hermit head out to see what all the mirth was about. Highlights package was along the lines of her initially laughing at me a few weeks ago because I had to have this done, only to find out this week she also needs it. So I told her I’d send her a link to a video of an actual operation that I found, but to just note that guy had hectic cholesterol and you could actually see it on the video because the stuff was all over his liver…as opposed to me, I have zero cholesterol and my surgeon actually complemented me on the state of my liver, haha…then she said did you know when you donate liver they just take a piece and both pieces grow back to what they’re supposed to be…I did know yes, and told her it reminded me a bit of a lizard’s tail, but I have never been scared enough to drop a piece of liver to flop around as a decoy while I make a getaway.

We were crying of laughter just visualizing that!

It was a great week for friend chats and catch ups really, I also got so see my friend from Aus, previously from Japan, previously from here, previously from Mauritius this week. She’s here for her dad’s 70th birthday and managed to come see me before going back home. It has been way too long since we had a chance to chat!

I actually had quite a few lovely conversations with friends all over this week, and my tank has been kept at an all time high in warm and fuzzies.

Nicola has not had the best few weeks sadly. After last week’s debacle with the teacher, it turns out she’s also been bullied by some kids at school and she’s pretty miserable at the moment.

One snot-nose-punk in particular who sits next to her in one of her classes, is firmly on my shit list. I am sad for this kid because I can draw my own conclusions about the atmosphere he’s growing up in from what comes out his mouth and it’s not pretty.

Apparently he’s been calling Nicola names like “roasted” and “scorched”, and telling her she shouldn’t sit to close to him because she’s a different colour. And then in general she gets mocked a lot for her love of reading, and she says everyone calls her weird and a freak…and she hates going to school.

It is heartbreaking to see your child go through this, but it’s not something I can do for her. Everybody goes through it at some point, and it doesn’t stop until you own your strange and people see that you don’t care what they think anyway. Best we could do was tell her what we used to be bullied for and how we got through it, and what a delight it is to attend school reunions and see how the bullies turn out in comparison to their previous victims.

Andy used to be called four eyes for wearing glasses, to which he replied at least he could see twice as well as they could.

I was also mocked about my tan skin (this area has a freakishly high percentage of blond blue eyed “angels”). In my school days apartheid was still very firmly in place, and in grade 2 one of these “angels” told me I didn’t belong in that school because I was coloured. Not my finest moment I guess, there are probably more diplomatic ways to ignore this or deal with it, but I punched her lights out and when she came too we both ended up in the principal’s office where neither of us wanted to confess what it was about. So I got sent home for a couple of days cooling off and reflecting, and so did she.

My mom kept me hostage and interrogated me for 4 solid hours until I came out with what had happened. She was so livid that she went straight back to school to go raise hell.

That punch more or less kept everyone off my case for the next five years and I hit high school before I had to face my next taunt from anyone on it again. Mostly people were terrified of me, so it was kind of half hearted at best…by then, it didn’t bug me in the least.

It is quite sad though that this is still a thing after so much has changed in this country. I am actually just a bit speechless about the whole thing( you wouldn’t say so judging by this long ramble). And as always, I worry for my daughter’s safety. A few days ago she came home with a bandaged arm, because someone pushed her down the stairs. Could have been accidental, she doesn’t know who did it or how it happened, she blacked out although no head wound…so maybe this is her way of not telling us?

I can’t exactly advise Nicola to kick someone’s ass…but you know…if she got there on her own, I could certainly back her up or keep her entertained during her suspension. Andy is helping her refine her kicking techniques, and I remind her how handy elbows are. We’re keeping an eye on it, and we’ll intervene if she doesn’t find her own way through this.

Then on the super fabulous news front, Nicola’s surname change came through this week! Andy has been emailing roughly 50 people at Home Affairs daily to get this moving along. They eventually gave us a personal contact to deal with and she finally managed to get it through the red tape yesterday! Even promised to sort out the new birth certificate for us in 2 weeks instead of 12 (first one took 5 years, so 12 is usually best case scenario).

As you can imagine, we were celebrating big time about this last night!

How’s your week been?

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Protected: Voting Day tomorrow…meh

7 May , 2019

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It was the best of times…it was the worst of times…it was this past long weekend!

2 May , 2018

This particular photo wasn’t strictly speaking from this weekend, but isn’t Polka just so darned cute posing there amongst the autumn leaves?

So on the worst side: Friday was not a very free day for me personally. I managed to pick up some form of food poisoning I guess, and I spent the majority of my day on the bathroom floor trying to keep water down.

It was “glorius”! Not. I am no stranger to tummy bugs and food poisonings alike, best is usually to just let your body get rid of what’s bugging. Don’t fight it, it’s trying to protect you. It got to a point where my dad offered to take me to hospital and I strongly considered taking him up on that offer.

Blergh!

More on the worst side: Poor L, Nicola’s bestie since forever landed up in hospital for most of the weekend fighting of some infection. We snuck in to see her as Nicola isn’t 12 yet and technically not really allowed in the wards. Oh well, the place was just about deserted since I think most people try to have their medical emergencies on weekends other than long weekends.

Nicola was freaked out by all the drips and needles, and didn’t want to touch her friend for fear of hurting her…but at least we got to say hi and drop off a “thinking of you” gift.

On the best side: My cousin Bernadine and her family, and my cousin Albert and his family dropped in for lunch Sunday, and my folks whipped up a FEAST. Even more spectacular, I managed to keep it down (the previous day I kept to toast and black coffee to nurse my poor tummy past it’s temper tantrum).

These two above, Bernadine and Zelmarie are both busy hatching – and both due within a month of each other. Shame, they are in the proper exhausted part of this experiences and made turns almost falling asleep on each other.

More feast prep!

The worst: Monday morning and my noodle looks like she’s coming down with something…and we have big plans for the day, so we self medicate, cross our fingers and hope for the best.

She perked up a bit after she was properly awake. And usually she shakes these things off like it’s nothing (unless there are teeth involved, then she goes down like a ton of bricks and we end up at the emergency room with crazy fevers).

No teeth this time round, no fever, just a bit clingy and not 100%. Felt like about a 80% to me, so onwards with the big plans.

Best times: We spent a fabulous day at the Walter Sisulu Botanical Gardens with L, who we’ve successfully established is in fact not a vampire. 😉

See? He shows up in photos and he doesn’t go up in smoke if the sun hits him. 😀

😀 I am extremely happy…as you can see!

*Blows kisses at L, who also reads this blog now*

On the way out I foolishly let Nicola trot around this new water feature they built. In my defense, it was a pretty warm day and she had been clowning around so effortlessly that it sort of slipped my mind that she woke up not feeling great.

We went home, and all watched a movie together. Nicola insisted that L had to see Harry Potter – Chamber of Secrets. 😆 After which she jumped on him for piggy back rides!

The in between: On Tuesday we took a full on pajama day. A stay at home and do as little as possible sort of pajama day. The best kind of pajama day ever! Very relaxing.

Nicola woke up properly sick and without a voice. It cleared up a bit later but as the day went on the coughing just got worse and worse.

My dad had a mission to clear gutters. You can see the millions of little leaves which were clogging it up. This isn’t even from our tree, but never mind that.

I’m not sure that this is the safest way to unclog gutters demonstrated in this pic above, but it’s a very awkward little space in between the house and the neighbours, and luckily the neighbours were kind enough to switch off their electric fence for this manouvre (it’s not their tree either, in case you were wondering).

My job was to man the tap for blasting and on occasion to hold the ladder for mounting and dismounting. I had a lot of time to take random photos of the leaves and what-not.

Clear skies, wet gutter…I just liked the look of this reflection there.

The worst: Today Nicola was now seriously ill and as luck would have it, my manager who I was supposed to have three offsite client meetings with today also had to bail out due to a sick baby. Her;s is suspected to have glandular fever.

And so we found ourselves at a pretty packed Medicross, waiting to see our doctor…Nicola coughing up a storm, but otherwise being a real champ.

Our waiting room faces…

Okay the last straw worst: Nicola has laryngitis which is busy spreading to her lungs. Two or three days bed rest and a bag of meds prescribed. The list was antibiotics, custom made cough syrup, and Myprodol syrup.

I asked the doc if I could switch the Myprodol for Stopayne, since I know that knocks her out and I think the rest will probably help her get better sooner. He said no problem, just ask the pharmacist to switch it out. Great.

Not great.

The entire experience at the pharmacy was traumatic and unsatisfactory to say the least. Suffice it to say this particular pharmacist and myself rubbed each other up the wrong way from the word go, and we were both happy to see the back of each other by the time I left.

For the sake of completeness of history, let me tell you the way we pissed each other off:

  1. They have this stupid queuing system that allocates you a number. You will not be served without it, so resistance is futile. As luck would have it, the blasted thing had a paper jam when I pressed the button and it took them about 5 numbers to sort it out before I managed to get my hands on an actual numbered ticket.
  2. So the cranky pants at counter 2 opens up. There is no one in front of me. He starts calling numbers that were never allocated. Predictably no one steps up. He obviously has a sort of process to follow, because he calls each number twice and gives a couple of minutes for them to respond. These invisible people who aren’t there. I have a giggle at this and tell him that I think I’m next, there was a paper jam on the machine. OOooooh noooooo! I can’t jump the mythical queue! He carries on with calling no one for ten rounds before I am allowed to step up to the counter.
  3. Oh well, you know, prisoner of process. I shrug and thank my lucky stars that this is not my daily slog.
  4. I mention the Myprodol/Stopayne swop out to him and he gets mighty offended at the concept. Oh no, can’t substitute one for the other, they’re not the same thing you see (yes captain obvious, I know they’re not, that’s why I asked for a different one – they are both over the counter). He is however willing to sell me the other one as an extra…dude, are you for real?! In my moment of need, you are trying to up-sell me?! No thanks, give me the bloody Myprodol.
  5. Next item, the antibiotics. He asks me if I want the Augmentin or a generic? Is this the same guy who had a big twitch about switching out prescribed things 2 minutes ago? Not my finest moment but I did refer him to his own rules and recommended we just stick to what was written down. I do not want generics, and he doesn’t want to substitute – for all practical purposes this shouldn’t come in a discussion.
  6. Then the cough syrup…he says…you know your medical aid will not pay for this? Yeah, okay. Whatever. If that is what Nicola needs then that’s fine by me. I get the impression he’s itching to substitute…I am at this point itching to throat punch. We leave all itchings and get on with it.
  7. He checks the co-payment amount with me THREE times! Where was all this concern with my pocket when we were trying to upsell me on Stopayne guy?
  8. Finally to add insult to injury, he locks my meds in a little cage and sends me to pay my co-payment. Like I am going to risk a criminal record for a little bag of meds. Gmpf! Grrr! (the little cage probably wouldn’t have pissed me off as much if I wasn’t already in the RED by that stage).

We are not going there again. Ever. That is all.

Anyhoo…Other than the few iffy bits, I’d say our weekend was downright fabulous!

How was your long weekend?