If there was a Pandemic Prevention Olympics, South Africa would be on the podium taking gold medals by the barrel full. We’ve had the longest #Coronavirus lockdown in the world.
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Days 9, 10 & 11: A Three-Way to Meeting my Jekyll & Hyde
Days 9 and 10, Saturday and Sunday, or in my case Eat and Sleep…and Day 11: Moanday…
Aside from the delicious ravioli that I prepared; I made a focaccia pizza in the slow cooker. I was on a video call with Eliza, and completely forgot about the bread, which burnt to a crisp at the base and along the edges, so it was kind of flop-paccia. I think the recipe is meant for a large slow cooker, because mine rose quite a bit more than the picture on the recipe. Still, it tasted delicious. I’ll make it again as it is a superb way to use leftovers.
Cape St. Blaize Lighthouse
As the lighthouse high on Cape St. Blaize winks and watches Mossel Bay was the opening line of my primary school’s anthem. Today I finally got to see that view for myself.
Fear…
So, I have been quiet. Honestly, I haven’t felt much like writing. Work is hectic; fuses are slightly shorter than usual all round and, I’ve been preoccupied with both good/fun-, and not-so-good/fun things.
A friend introduced me to a great guy, Charlie, with whom I’ve been chatting for quite a while already. To get to know each other better, we’re doing the “50 I’s about Me” challenge, that I did on this very blog eons ago. It’s fun to see how some of my answers haven’t changed at all while others have done a complete one eighty.
We haven’t been doing them in the same order as the original list. Yesterday’s “I” was meant to be “I fear”, but I just couldn’t face it. You see, I realized yesterday, that more than my fear of dying by drowning or smoke inhalation, I fear being an orphan. Even as I type the words, bile rises in my throat and my vision becomes cloudy. Ironically, in a previous conversation, Charlie said that fear is a learned emotion. When we’re born all we fear is loud noises; everything else we fear is imprinted on us.
I’m sure you’re wondering Where the hell is she going with this? So, I’ll get to it:
Neither my mom nor I knew The Toppie had decided to take the garbage out early yesterday morning. All we heard was a loud “Ooohhhh”, followed by a blunt grunt and then an even louder, “Owww!!” I bolted down the wet stairs to find him at the bottom, bleeding, shaky and unable to stand. He had a gash above his right eye, a long cut on his arm, so deep that the bone was visible and instant bruising on his legs and thighs. My first aid training flew right out the window. I began to shake as adrenalin began to course through my veins. All I knew was he would need stitches and that we had to stop the bleeding. Mom gave me a towel which I wrapped around his arm before loading him into the car and driving like Lewis Hamilton to the local state hospital, all the time quietly reciting, Please God, don’t let him die. Please!
Sitting in the cold waiting room, my poor dad was rocking backwards and forwards with pain. I have never seen him so vulnerable. It just made me even more aware of how mortal he and my mom are and just how much I’m not ready to have God take either of them away. He started to doze off and I panicked thinking he may have a concussion, so when a nurse came to call another patient (of about twenty sitting in the waiting room), I walked up asking how long the wait would be, given that he was now drifting in and out of consciousness. It was then that the brain fog cleared and I remembered the big words I’d learned in first aid training, cranial contusion and bleeding laceration to right forearm with suspected fracture. Bless the nurse, who told me to immediately bring him in. We waited a long time for help, but once the nurses got busy, they were efficient and professional. The doctor saw him, and said that X-rays would be required, because she too suspected a broken arm. The X-rays took a long time because the radiographers (in both state and private hospitals) don’t work on weekends. In the instance of the former, the hospital waits until there are at least five patients requiring X-rays before they ask the radiographer to come in. If there aren’t a time of at least two hours must elapse. The nurses in the meantime disinfected the wound on his arm, which had him flinching and then applied strips to close the gaping hole – he couldn’t have sutures because his skin is too thin and gave him a shot of morphine for the pain.
It was frustrating to have to wait, but Aunty Carol, Uncle Barry and Cousin Lola popped by with a bite to eat, a flask of coffee and two magazines. It helped to pass the time until the radiographer arrived. The process of the X-rays was quick-sticks.
The verdict – broken ulna, less than two thirds, which thankfully means that no surgery is required.
Not The Toppie’s X-ray – just a Google one for example.
The doctor applied a temporary cast (because the arm my still swell) and told him to come back on Friday, for it to be removed, the wound to be cleaned and a proper cast to be applied.
It was a harrowing six hour ordeal that left The Toppie broken and bruised, The Bean emotionally frazzled and Yours Truly on an emotional rollercoaster.
I’m scared that it might happen again, and that if it does, it won’t be just a broken arm. I’m furious because so many people knew where my parents were when the going was good, but 95% of them have disappeared into the woodwork now that it isn’t the case anymore. I’m tired of the pretenders; exhausted in fact. I’m willing to wager that had we called for help, only a handful of people would have come to our rescue. I’m relieved that it was only a few bruises, a bashed head and a broken arm. I am hopeful that everything will be okay in the end. As Cousin Lola said yesterday, ”This too shall pass” and it will. My mantra right now is that EVERYTHING that is happening now is for my ULTIMATE GOOD, even if it doesn’t seem like it at the time.
Day Three: Eight Fears
I am not going to elaborate too much on this topic because I don’t want to dwell on it for too long…
I don’t fear death, but I do fear dying by either drowning, fire or suffocation.
If it has more than four legs, I’m scared of it – except if it is a praying mantis, then I feed it jam with a teaspoon.
Being alone – I can handle my own company for a day or two, three at most and then I need another breath in the house.
Being involved in a car accident where someone is killed and I survive. I don’t handle guilt well at the best of time; I don’t want to have to try to deal with Survivor’s Guilt.
Finding out that I might not be able to have children. I want to be a mom one day – I love children.
My parents getting Alzheimer’s Disease – I can’t imagine what it would be like to have them not knowing who they are or who I am.
Confined spaces, lifts in particular – this stems from an incident when I was six and was stuck in a lift with my mother for almost 24 hours before someone heard our cries for help. Ever since then, I will rather take the stairs.
Being raped. Enough said…
I’m looking forward to the next bit of this challenge – Seven Wants, because then I can share my indulgent dreams with all of you 🙂
Reflections of a Misfit 