Week 52, day 3

Well, we are done with 3 days of chemo.  2 to go before Boeta can rest a bit.

Until now it went well.  Because I am with him all the time I can see he is starting to take strain now.  On Monday he was happy and clappy and running up and down the oncology ward (a passing oncologist looked at him, heard that his Hb was 8.3 at that moment, shook his head and declared that 8.3 is about 4 too high for our child! 😀 ).  And he was eating like there was a famine on the way.  He had two bowls of cereal for breakfast, 4 packets of cheese curls (ok, there are only about 10 chips in each packet), a hotdog for lunch, a full portion of macaroni and cheese for supper and 2 glasses of orange juice.  That is a lot.

By yesterday his appetite went down markedly and he had a fraction of that.  And he had an accident.  The diarrhoea has started…

Today he had oats for breakfast, 2 packets of chips and that is it.  Seriously.  And Wouterman, who is usually a night owl, fell asleep at 19:00.  That is really early for someone who lies in bed from 21:00 and may only fall asleep 30 minutes after that.  This morning was also the first time that he said he was too tired to walk to the ward.  And Juanita, our fabulous security lady, carried him all the way to his bed.

I am so tired tonight.  So I am going to leave you with a Carien funny and get to bed.

When Wouter and I started dating I lived in Parow.  If you know Cape Town, you know all the jokes about Parow and its inhabitants.  Either way, I started calling Wouter “baby” as a joke, drawing it out in my imitation of a Parow-chick.  We always considered people calling each other “baby” as a bit … well … not our kind of people.  But after 8 years, I am now stuck in the habit and I call Wouter “baby”.  I only realised how many times I call him that when Carien latched onto it and started calling Wouter that as well.  Usually she call him Pappa (Daddy) but when she gets serious or excited he becomes Baby.  Freaky.

Yesterday as we were leaving the house Carien insisted on taking Wouter’s tape measure to my parents’ house.  When we got there my mom took her out of the car.

C:  (hugging the tape measure to herself)  My pappa s’ne! (My daddy’s!)

Ouma*:  Dit is myne.  (It is mine.)

C:  (very aggro)  My pappa s’ne!!!  (My daddy’s!!!)

O:  Dit is myne!  (It is mine!)

C:  (practically levitating with self-righteousness)  MY PAPPA S’NE!!!!  (MY DADDY’S!!!!)

You get the idea.

So they get to my dad, who asks to see the tape measure.  That was the last straw on the Carien-camel.  She blew herself up like an angry cat, assumed a pose and declared defiantly:

C:  My pappa s’ne!  Hy het naam Baby!  (My daddy’s!  He has name Baby!)

And then she flounced off, satisfied that she won the argument.  After all, her daddy’s name is Baby.  And he has a tape measure.


*Ouma = Grandmother.  My mom is constantly teasing the children.  Their favourite game is where my mom says something silly and the children pretend to get upset at her.

2 Responses

  1. ai ek wens ek kan Carien nou sien. Sy klink absoluut opeetbaar. Sterkte vir Woutertjie en vir julle almal. Ek kan eintlik nie glo daar is nog net 4,5 weke oor nie. Dit het oneindig geklink toe julle begin het. Vasbyt.

  2. Oh my, poor Woutertjie. I really hope that he will feel a bit better today.

    And Carien is so cute.

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