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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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In the strangest year of all (so far), you turned 11

19 December , 2020

Dear Nicola,

What a freakin upside down year this has been?! It has been hard on all of us, but it has been especially hard on you.

And even though other people sometimes refer to you as my mini me, there has never been a time before where it has been more obvious that you are definitely your own little person…well, not that little anymore, but definitely your own.

I really don’t think I was the best mom for you in this bewildering past year, and not for lack of trying. My need for peace and quiet, and your need for connection and chaos were in direct opposition. We both tried our best, and that’s all there us to it now I guess.

As long as you know, no matter what, I love you unconditionally. I am proud to the point of bursting at how you take on life, even if it’s not the way I would do it. Actually, even more so then. Always keep being true to yourself, you’re amazing!

So…to my loud, kind hearted, moody, hilarious, always hungry, fiercely loyal, curious and amazing daughter…Happy Birthday! I hope that the next year will bring you adventure and delight beyond your wildest imaginings, and peace and contentment…and maybe some balance between two.

Lots of love xxx♥️
Mom-ster 😉

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Lockdown continues

2 September , 2020

It has been what feels like a million days. Currently we’re in Level 2…whatever that implies.

So I think the last time I posted, I had just started working shifts from home in customer support? Okay, so that didn’t work out. Not because the work was hard…it wasn’t…but the night shifts were killing me. It turns out I’m not 20 anymore, haha. Even on days where I wasn’t working I was like a zombie. So I decided it wasn’t for me and let it go. Surprisingly I did actually learn quite a bit from the experience, and not just that I need more than 2 hours sleep a night. So I am grateful for that.

Ah yes, I think I also told you about my looming Frankenboob situation? I bailed in that too. My reasoning was that the last time it took roughly 2 years to come back (one), that I didn’t think it was a great time to be in hospital with all the Corona things going on (two), and that when I do need something removed from my breast I’d like to shop around for a surgeon that would be most likely to put what’s left of it back together in an asthetically pleasing way (three). See, sound reasons.

As it turned out, it didn’t take 2 years to come back this time. It took 2 weeks. Grrr…anyhoo, I am home remedying it with cannabis oil, and it’s working pretty well. Every day the lump is getting smaller and less angry looking, and after about a week of applying the oil topically I am happy to say I now also have zero pain there.

I did briefly consider taking before and after photos of the progress, but I really don’t see myself sharing those so I decided against it. 😂

We’ve been running a stall at the green markets whenever we could, and let me tell you, business is booming! We’re making a CBD oil for people and one for pets, THC topical cream and balm and bathbombs. It really gives you the warm and fuzzies when you get feedback on how much the products have helped people. I am going to miss doing this when we leave.

On the home, or home school front I will say this. Lockdown learning has not been great for my relationship with Nicola. We have VERY different styles of learning and skirmishes are brutal! We considered sending her back to school (or every second day school as is the norm in Level 2), when her school had two weeks of no infections. We decided if they get to three weeks we’d do it, despite her higher risk. Well, week three they had 2 new infections, so we start counting again I guess.

We are all super frustrated with the status quo, so keep your fingers crossed. The weekly updates come through on a Thursday.

Also wish us all a bit of extra luck in the next week, because I think it might be time to quit smoking again. Andy has moved over to vape (not healthier but a lot cheaper). There’s no way I’m doing that. So it’s quit for me. I didn’t want to do it while it was forbidden (you’re not the boss of me, haha), but I think it will be a good idea to do before I start paying for smokes in Euros. I have done it twice before, so I know I can…but I remember it being pretty traumatic so I’m dreading it for myself and everyone who is trapped in lockdown with me. There is nowhere to hide…for any of us.

Oh well, lets see how it goes…

Ps! Quitely I also turned 42 a few weeks ago. It’s a significant number to me, because I’m a Douglas Adams fan. Lots happening in this year, at least some of I anticipated. Let’s hope for answers to life, the universe and everything, right? 😉

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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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Oh good…more lemons

31 July , 2020

Do you remember this? Haha, well it’s back. Fuck. Bigger and more painful than ever. In a matter of days it also went from mildly uncomfortable to where my left arm is numb and achy, and I can hardly lift a cup with that hand. I NEED to lift coffee, this won’t do.

So I ended up spending a whole day between doctors on Wednesday. I started off at my GP, thinking that a quick zap of antibiotics might do the trick like it did last time. Nope, he referred to a specialist at Flora Hospital.

The specialist (surgeon), then referred me to radiology for another sonar.

I then had to prance back to the specialist to deliver the results (which I wasn’t supposed to see, but had a look at anyway of course).

And then off to the pharmacy for the most hectic antibiotics I’ve ever had to take.

And then Monday I need to see the specialist again so that he can see if I responded to the meds, and most likely to schedule an operation for the removal of this mess.

All this happened while I was pissing my eyes out, and let me tell you wearing a mask and not being able to blow your nose is not fabulous. Also with Covid-19 still very much around, I got to do it alone because Andy wasn’t allowed to come with me into the hospital.

So the long and short of it if I understand it correctly is that on the upside, it’s not cancer. This is a very big upside, and I am grateful to say the least. The downside is that even though I never had milk to begin with, my milk duct is blocked which caused this recurring bacterial infection, and it has to be removed. Or it will be back.

When the sugeon said he had to cut I said, “Cut off or cut out? Be specific.” So cut out, yay. They’ll lift the nipple and take out what needs going, then frankenstein what’s left together again after. Doc says it’ll be a bit deformed but should even out over time.

Right…of course…”great”.

The pharmacist brought more excitement, which to be honest I wasn’t expecting. She first asked if I was very sporty. Hahahaha, err no. Apparently this stuff makes your ligaments brittle for about a month. So nothing strenuous, and no falling. Oh yes, and I have to drink 3.5 liters of water a day or it will form crystals. Not sure where, but it sounds unpleasant. I’m going to be spending a lot of time on the loo! Luckily there are no steps on the way there, since the stuff holding me together is now brittle!

Oh, and for what may or may not be my final-ish rant on this: my medical aid only kicks in on the 1st of August, and doesn’t cover anything in this hospital unless it happens in the ER. No one has actually done anything but feel me up and write scripts, and we’re already clocking over R4000 in bills.

There are workarounds for this I guess. I need to wait till Saturday and ask the medical aid to point me at a specialist that they do cover. Or I need to win the Lotto between now and next week.

New job going great, by the way. They’re especially thrilled about me kicking it off with some sick leave (that I don’t have yet). I’m also not discussing my problem boob gutter with my twenty-something manager who has only been working for two months and is dealing with his first team under him ever, so I’ve referred to it only as chest pains. He might possibly be under the impression that it’s my heart giving me issues, and I’m not going to be clarifying that at this point.

I am now at the laughing point of my hysterics. Feel free to join in if the spirit moves you.