Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Popping the question

For months, actually - probably YEARS, I have been trying to get Arno to tidy up his room. The purpose behind this is actually multi-faceted. I was told that in order to ensure that he gets better marks at school, we have to teach him to "organise" his personal space. The idea is that the basis of learning, is being organised. In order to get his brain functioning in that direction, you have to teach him to organise his little world. (The other reason is simply to have a tidy house!)

Well, "organising" his little world, has turned me into something I NEVER was before... a NAG. I never, EVER nagged. Not in my previous life, and not in my "new" life. Until  now! Arno has turned me into a class 1 NAG. Every evening, before I step into his room, I start: Arnoooooo. "Yes mom, my room IS tidy", he pipes up - BEFORE the question is even asked. Every  morning I walk into his room and we have the same, tired conversation : Arno - but I thought you said your room was tidy? "I thought it was mom, I just forgot!"

I once got so angry at FORGOT that I told him I might "FORGOT" some things too, like feeding him. This produced an unsatisfactory result from him: he just giggled. Mom's don't FORGET to feed their children.

And so we battle on in the house, sometimes with more success, sometimes with less. Some motivational talks telling him how good it is for him, produce momentary spurts of enthusiasm, that last all of 12 hours.

That is.... until yesterday.
Last night I walked into his room, almost turned around and ran out to check that I was in the correct house. He had tidied up his room.... all on his own. Before I had asked. WELL!

I puzzled over this for a while. Quite a number of things have changed in our house over the last few weeks, not least of which is that Werner had a heart attack. We speeched the children about helping around the house... maybe that had some effect? Then Arno started scouts 2 weeks ago, and I keep hearing things about scouts honour, promises and so forth. Maybe he is working toward a badge or something... hey what do I really know about scouts.

Well, this morning the mystery was cleared up. In the kitchen, alone with his sister, he confided to Marinda: "On Friday, I am popping the BIG question!".
"What question", she asked.
"The air riffle", he said simply.

The AIR RIFFLE?
Well, the air riffle was given to us by my missionary friend, Jonathan. Arno loves that thing. But now the air riffle needs a service. We have been quite lax about finding someone who can service it. But above all, we have felt that Arno needs to show responsibility with his stuff, not leave it lying around, before we spend more money on it. Hmmm... something is sinking in somewhere!

So... I will plan out my answer - and wait...on Friday I get asked - THE BIG QUESTION!!!!

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Reflections on thankfulness

Apologies, think I 've found out what writers block feels like!!!

This morning Marinda came into our bedroom saying, "Werner, it was so  nice to hear you pottering around the kitchen this morning, making mom coffee".

THAT was one very loaded statement. You see, Werner had a heart attack on Friday last week. We missed all the queues, and I have discovered, I had very little idea of what a heart attack might look like. We have funny ideas in life, and when you are convinced a thing will never happen to you, well... here is what THAT looks like:

He started with a feeling of "heart burn" the evening before. After taking Rennie's antacid tablets it seemed to ease - convincing us that our diagnosis was right. When he woke with the same terrible burning sensation in his chest the next morning we thought, SIGH, more of the same. Only, this time he was sweating and pale. I briefly wondered if I should drive him to the Dr, but he easily persuaded me that he could manage.

By 9am the Dr phoned me from his cell. "Yvonne, nothing much to worry about, but we are quickly driving Werner to the hospital to have his heart checked out. He is taking some strain, but don't worry, we are in time".
Reeling somewhat at that information, I packed up my life at work to head to the hospital. We have been listening to an audio book whilst driving around, and one phrase kept popping into my head from the story: we never know what the day will bring.

Once at the hospital, the gravity of the situation became clear. The cardio made no bones about it - "Mr Geldenhuys, I will see you in theatre in 30 minutes". Werner was agitated, and in a massive lot of pain, totally unprepared for the thought of theatre. He had some stuff to do you know!
Before I had started to fill in the necessary paper work, the first friends began arriving at the hospital. How did they get here so fast, I wondered. At the sight of a familiar face, I burst into tears.

The day started to tilt sideways. All the unspoken plans and routines, slowly slid off the once level platform. We never know, what a day will bring, we never know how fragile and precious a life is, and we don't realise how quickly everything can change.

Werner made it through theatre, where they unblocked an artery. The blockage had been there a long time, but that, together with stress and other factors - precipitated a heart attack. We never quite realised it, although in retrospect - the doctor had hinted at it. We thought  he had angina - which is simply a pain, but not an actual heart attack. Only when the Dr came straight out on Monday and said the words, did we realise exactly what had been happening.

Werner went from theatre to ICU. There he landed by some ironic coincidence, next to a man who had seemingly lost it. The patient's plaintive cries of : Nurse, let me go, you're drowning me. Sister, why am I here, let me go... - continued for about 6 hours, despite the nurses best efforts to sedate the distraught man. Eventually they put sedatives in Werner's drip to calm him down. It was essential to keep Werner calm, in the face of his heart problems.

I really never want to buy this post card again. This one was enough experience to last me a life time.
Once Werner came home on Monday afternoon, we looked at each other with new eyes and thankful hearts: we had had yet another 2nd chance. His every smile, his every action - precious beyond words.

It is going to take a while, to adjust our thinking. It is going to take me a while to stop flapping around him, to stop listening to his breathing at night, to stop wondering if he is still sleeping when he has gone for a 4 hour nap, or if he has stopped breathing and I should have gone in to check on him...
But - it is a small price to pay, for a 2nd chance, and if that is the price - I will gladly pay it.

If ever we wondered, what our friends and support structure were worth - we found out that we had more than we could ever have thought possible. We got love, prayers, meals, lifts, smses... we were completely overwhelmed.
So, all in all, we have as always - more blessing than we can count.
Thank you dear family, thank you dear friends.