Tick Tock My How the Time Has Flown By

Well…tomorrow is the 1^st of July. It feels like this roller-coaster ride had only begun, but in actual fact, half the year has passed already. I cannot remember the date of my diagnosis but I remember sitting under the tree with Akash crying at the utter senselessness of being diagnosed with breast cancer a second time. I remember coming home to my mother and siblings concerned smiles, their respectful silence while we all absorbed this terrible diagnosis, their stoic solidarity.

I was not alone this time around. I was not isolated in a cavern of deprecating loathing. This time around it’s different; I am surrounded by love, family, care, respect, warmth, strength.

 

 

Tomorrow is also 11 days before Shabd’s 2^nd birthday. Truth be told, true to my very nature, I’ve been mulling and stressing as to how we will mark this special day since mid-May. I am slowly and painfully learning that I am that I am. What this philosophical realization means is that I have finally come to accept my true nature instead of denying and trying to change it. I am an excellent igniter of things and terrible at follow-through. I am a perfectionist and have the most untidy cupboard. I am a chronic worrier and a great believer in people. I bounce back amazingly fast from failures, I invented the Tigger bounce! I’m tenacious and don’t give up without a fight, sometimes to my own detriment. But I digress (let me own that quality as well, while we’re on the subject).

Shabd has amazed me these past 6 months. He’s realized that mummy is sick and has to go see the doctor and take medicines. He’s accepted the changes in physical appearance, though he did confuse mummy and papa for a while there. And he’s respectful of giving me space on the days I come home from chemo and need to sleep. On those days, Shabd politely climbs into bed with me so we can cuddle and read a book quietly, as opposed to jumping on the bed singing 5 little monkeys at the top of his voice.

I know this might not sound like a lot, but don’t forget that he’s not yet two years old. Shabd has shown more maturity, compassion, consideration and understanding then some adults I’ve met! I cannot claim credit for these qualities; I do not believe it to be as a result of nurture, but rather of his own gentle nature.

 

Tick tock tick tock, my how the time has flown by! Only 11 days to go, and while I have a few ideas on how we can celebrate Shabd’s birthday, I would love to know what you think we should do.

 

Eureka

Legend has it that Archimedes was so thrilled with his discovery of buoyancy that he immediately hopped out of the bath and ran onto the streets naked shouting 'Eureka!' 'Eureka!”. It is rumoured that had his wife not filled the tub to the brim, this discovery would never have been made. But I digress.

I had my own “Eureka” moment this week. I finally discovered the reason for my recent bout of misplaced aggression, annoyance and impatience; drum roll please….Menopause. Yep! Full-fledged, hot flush and all menopause! Unlike Archimedes, I've resisted the urge to run naked onto the streets yelling at the top of my voice, "Eureka! Eureka! It's menopause!". But the thought did cross my mind.

Imagine my annoyance at myself, it’s the second time I’m experiencing menopause, I should have recognized the symptoms sooner, I should have connected the dots months ago! Chemobrain you will be my own undoing yet! Urgh!!

Having had my light bulb moment was like something in my brain clicking into place, and slowly but surely (like watching a fight scene from The Matrix in super slow mo), the cogs in my brain started turning until eventually the fog lifted.

I realized that I’ve been too full of “I shoulds, I will, I musts” instead of just being; accepting my limitations, embracing me, in all my quirky uniqueness (I’ve discovered that cancer brings out the quirky in many!).

Instead of supporting Shabd during a very difficult time, I’ve been terribly impatient with him. His nounou has gone to Swtizerland to visit her grandchildren; she will be away for 3 months. Shabd has not taken too well to her replacement. He’s absolutely crestfallen at having lost his nounou and has been vacillating between absolute clinginess to mummy (whining come free) and moping in silence all the while lying on the floor.



Shabd and Nounou Lysie

I should have been kind. I should have understood his pain, his hurt, his loss. Instead, I was impatient and annoyed that he was so clingy and not adjusting fast enough to this change. I was angry at myself for not being sensitive enough to his pain especially since I know how much he loves his nounou.

I’m glad I’ve had my “Eureka” moment. Finding the reason for the way I’ve been feeling is not a resolution in itself. It doesn’t diminish the mood swings or hot flushes (and boy are there quite a number of those) – it does allow me freedom to let go though. Freedom, to forgive myself. Freedom, to be kind to myself. Freedom, to say to myself, as Shabd often says to me while gently stroking the top of my bald head, “it’s okay.”



Selfie

I’ve not slammed on the brakes. I’m done with “should haves”. I am that I am. And for now, what I am is menopausal, in all its grisly glory.  Acceptance is the wonder salve to this festering wound of self-berating. It’s amazing how pleasantly different things are once one stops berating oneself.





Ice-cream...without the cream!

Shabd and I spent the morning at Flic-en-Flac on Friday. We had a fantastic morning of playing in the sand, walking on the beach, singing, eating ice-cream and taking selfies. We had a long chat about nounou, how much we both miss her and how it was okay to be sad. Shabd, ever his father’s son was gracious as always with me. For the first time in weeks, when Papa arrived home that night, the atmosphere was jovial and there were wide grins all around. We spent the evening singing and talking, just the three of us.



Sea, Sand, Sun all year round

On Saturday, Shabd and I, along with LK went to visit MM and her family. For the first time in months, Shabd didn’t throw any tantrums, he did not scream or yell or become impatient with me. Instead, he sang along to his CD while in the car for 2 hours it took us to get to MM’s house. He happily ate all his food despite lunch being served an hour late and shared his toys with MM’s sons. Could it be my acceptance of myself that precipitated this positive change in Shabd’s behavior?

The love of my life

On Sunday, Akash and I reconnected over a lunch date at Spur; yep, voted most kid-friendly restaurant on the island by yours truly. So kid-friendly in fact that we go there even on dates. I felt as if I had stepped back in time, savouring the time spent talking and holding hands.



My house is not immaculate. My garden is more veld then garden. Our washing machine has packed up leaving a pile of laundry as high as Mt Kilimanjaro and I’m not always successful at gathering enough energy or will to prepare dinner every night. And it’s okay. The cogs turn slowly as I learn that if I’m okay, everything around me will be okay too. That it’s okay to let go of the “should haves” and just accept things as they are for now. For in time, this too shall pass.

Beekharry Selfie!



"Ah-ppity You You Nayshadh!"

Nayshadh is Shabd's cousin and his best friend in the whole wide world! These two are as thick as thieves. They get together every Sunday from 10h00 to 13h00, and during those hours, these two cousins are inseparable.

As soon as Shabd see's Chacha Ravi driving up our driveway, he yells out excitedly, "Nayshaaaaad!" There is much wiggling and even more screaming as he quickly makes a dash for the door, just in time to collide with Nayshadh running in to meet him.

Nayshadh speaks in French, Shabd in English, yet the two have their own way of communicating and understanding each other perfectly. They each speak a healthy melange of English, French and Creole to each other...which is quite amusing to the casual eavesdropper.

Nayshadh turned 5 last week. Shabd helped ice the blue and purple cupcakes, our humble offering for the Toy Story themed birthday party.

He chattered incessantly repeating over and over again, "Ah-ppity you, you you, Nayshaaad" (Shabdish for Happy Birthday to you Nayshadh) as if to remind us not to forget it was his cousin's big day.

As we've come to learn of Shabd, he stayed true to his character and shyed away from the celebration, choosing instead to stay indoors and colour. He came out only when Nayshadh was free to play soccer with him again, ensuring Nayshadh remained in the spotlight - it was after all Nayshadh's ah-ppity you you!

Nayshadh on his part, proudly showed off the cool watch his papa had given him. And generously shared his brand new Liverpool soccer ball with Shabd.

Excitement shone out his eyes as Nayshadh blew all 5 of his candles in one go! He loved his Hare Rama Hare Krishna McQueen Car cake. He loved the multicoloured balloons that hung everywhere, the Toy Story crockery and polka dot hats everyone happily donned (Job well done Papa!).

Most of all, judging by the size of the smile plastered to his little moon face, I suspect Nayshadh loved having his Papa by his side. To every little boy, their Papa is their superhero.

"Ah-ppity You You Nayshadh!"

Serene Sundays

Well, it’s taken us the better part of two years to finally settle into a routine for the weekend. Akash and I are rebels by nature and would rather be doused in honey and left on an ant hill then conform to a routine. Routines, bah! That’s what people do when they are old and boring!

Now, our child on the other hand, is a stickler for routine thanks to his ever efficient, meticulous, second watching Nounou. Shabd’s week Monday to Friday from 07h30 to 18h00 run as efficiently as a Swiss clock, never missing a second. His weekends diverge significantly from the well-oiled machinery known as the ‘work week’ due to his parent’s aforementioned repulsion for routines. Anything can happen during the weekend, there really is no plan, the objective being to get through it not feeling as exhausted as we do going into it and most importantly, to have some fun.

That was until one day Papa decided that it was absolutely imperative that the rock sand knoll had to be moved to a place which would not create such discomfort to the eye. Note the rock sand was conveniently located slam bang at the entrance to our house! What a mission this would turn out to be as bucketful after bucketful of rock sand was collected and moved. And so, clouded as an inconspicuous little chore, routine stepped into our weekends.

Shabd supervising the moving of potted plants

Sundays usually start of early, with a rushed simple breakfast of tea and fresh buttered bread rolls from the local bakery. We want to spend as much time outside before the sun becomes too intense and shoo’s are back indoors. We plough away at the garden, one section at a time, one weed at a time while Shabd the ever willing and obliging assistant hops skips and jumps all around, supervising the works.

 

Shabd helps shovel the rock sand into his little red bucket and dutifully empties it into his little yellow wheelbarrow. He then proceeds to walk his wheelbarrow to the dump site at far end of the property, all the while imitating Papa. If he feels that Papa is slacking, he’ll kindly lay down his tools, and take up Papa’s tools or help walk alongside the wheelbarrow, holding onto one handle for safety.



Discussing the rock sand issue with Papa

Shabd also helps us with digging up and transplanting plants as we try to tame our wild garden. Again, he comes prepared with his little yellow tiger stool and green spade, merrily loosening the tight earth that hug the palms and other assortment of plants, singing little ditties as he works at sculpting our garden.

The palm Shabd planted

 

 

 

 

 

Shabd has no qualms about lifting an errant snail off a leaf yet he dislikes his hands becoming dirty, to which he urgently calls out for a ‘wipe.’ How he manages all his tasks with his hands remaining soil free is still a mystery to me, but I guess we all have our quirks so how can I begrudge him his.

Lunch time is a family affair, sometimes had al fresco. Tummies thus full and exhausted by the mornings arduous gardening and cleaning, we all retire to bed for a story before we all fall fast asleep.

Snail removed, wipe please!

The late afternoon finds me in the kitchen baking cake for tea as sounds from outside waft in through the window. They are sounds of love as I hear Shabd saying, ‘help Papa’ and Papa automatically responds, ‘Thank you Shabd for washing the car.’ Shabd is a very helpful child and manages to thoroughly wet himself and the surrounding arbour while washing the vehicles. Oh well, wet clothes can be changed, the lessons and the memories will remain.

Help Papa!

 

This little routine has brought us comfort, predictability and surprisingly enough, fun. While our Sundays might sound terribly boring, at this point in our lives, with what feels like the whole world falling apart, it’s exactly what his mummy needs.

 

Help Papa!

I know that one day I will sit under our lapa, with a clear undisturbed view of our flourishing garden and smile at the remembrance of our serene Sundays, when my little boy planted the palm tree whose leaves now seem to almost touch the sky.

Time for a ride!