Lost and Found

December 4, 2008March 22, 2013 ~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment

My absent-mindedness almost caught up with me today ( yet again). This happens two months after losing my wallet on board a bus – a situation I haven’t recovered from yet, I might add, since I haven’t had the time yet to replace my driver’s license. The near miss today was my cell phone.

The day started in the usual rush to get Robert to day care and myself to work. I had arranged with his father to pick him up early today so that we can take him for his immunization, but in the rush I forgot to take his immunization card. So the day did not bode very well from the start.

At the Cape Town Mediclinic Robert sat through two injections on each shoulder crying only for the second one. He was however very fidgety as I carried him to the parking lot. I took out my cell phone to call his father who was out of sight as we returned to the car, but before I could use the phone, my ex showed up and we quickly got into the car and headed home.

I only discovered that I misplaced my phone two hours later as I was ready to leave with Robert. I went through the usual routine of phoning it and was dismayed that I did not hear it in my flat. The next check was to phone my ex, which is rather embarrassing for me, because my ex always lambasted me for my absentminded and disorganized nature. Surprisingly this time he was rather accommodating and went through searching the car twice, and then offered to walk to the Mediclinic and ask at the desk. He came up with nothing and I resigned myself to the fact that I have seen the last of my cell phone. The only question in my mind was when should I actually give up and order a new one ?

I researched and located a replacement at a cost of R2500, it could have been worse I thought. Then I remembered with dismay all the photos I took yesterday and never had time to download. I also realized with shock that I lost everyone’s number including my nanny’s. I managed to find her number somewhere else, which was somewhat of a relief because my only contacts to her -Jackie and her mom- are not talking to me anymore. In the end and after futile phoning to my lost cell, which was always ringing forlornly somewhere, I decided to go to the shops. For some reason I started buying the things that I was putting off, never mind the fact that I was going to have a huge bill for a new cell phone shortly. Robert was oblivious to my trouble and slept peacefully in his buggy. Today he wore a lime-green shirt on top of his army camouflage pants and looked so cute, and again I thought of my missing cell phone and its camera.

Shortly after our return from the shops I made one more call to my cell phone and to my amazement someone answered, saying that they found my phone on the sidewalk; I had dropped it right in front of our block. The kind man explained that his housekeeper found it and I was so pleased I told him I would give him all I have in my wallet as a reward, he said that his housekeeper will be pleased. A few minutes after this phone call the kind man arrived with my cell phone, and he only took part of the money I offered in gratitude. My good Samaritan lives and works a few blocks away as a children photographer, so I am certainly going to see him again for photos with Robert.

What a surprising and pleasant end to another misadventure. Thank you Cape Town, there are still good people out there.

Update on Robert: My worries about Robert’s eating calmed a little after his measurements at the clinic. He actually put on a few grams since he recovered from tonsillitis.

Today his stats today are as follows:

Weight: 10.35 kg

Length: 82 cm

What Am I Doing Wrong?

July 23, 2008November 22, 2008 ~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment

I finally got around taking Robert for his Chicken Pox immunization. The logistics got complicated by Jackie working. I had asked my friend Jenny to give me a lift there on Wednesday, but on the day I first had to wait until Jackie’s mom came with the municipality evaluator. Residential properties were re-evaluated by the Municipal Council last year, and the property taxes were calculated accordingly. Most people found that they have to pay a lot more to the Municipality as a result, and therefore opted to try and re-evaluate. Jackie’s mom is one of these people, and I can’t blame her. Jenny came right after that business was finished and we headed to Cape Town Mediclinic. Nurse B has now seen me twice without Robert’s father, and if she wondered what the story was she never said anything. Robert had his injection and was good as usual. The shocking realization for me however, was his weight.
He did not put on any weight in the last month and is now clearly below average. This trend started already last month, but the difference now is almost one whole kilogram, I was very worried for a second there.
The conclusion that the nurse drew from questioning me was that he was not drinking enough milk. A baby his age is supposed to drink 750ml of formula day and in Robert’s case I would be lucky if he finished 250ml; this excludes the one or two feeds he gets daily from the breast, which are impossible to measure. Nurse B followed with a number of suggestions like sprinkling his veggies with olive oil to add more calories, and feeding him cheese. The main thing however was to increase his intake of formula. She tried to calm my panic by pointing out that his height continues to be above average, my feelings of guilt however remain strong, and throughout the day I kept asking myself what I had been doing wrong in the past months. It is not good enough to make excuses and cite the strange living conditions and circumstances; I am the child’s mother and I am supposed to put him first. Up until now he has been a good child, but feeding him is a bit of a struggle because he is always interested in what’s going on around him, and does not sit down willingly for a longer period of time. I try tying him down on the feeding chair, but my success there is also limited. I will have to dry harder before my next visit to the nurse.

Robert’s measurements for the day : Weight 9400 g; Height 76cm; Head Circumference 45.8 cm.

It was one of those warm winter days today, and Jenny and I spent the day around her neck of the wood in Vredehoek. The area nestles up high below the flat summit of Table Mountain, and is traditionally very windy, but on the calm days like today it affords a great view over the city bowl towards Table Bay and beyond. You can see Robben Island if the sky is clear of fog or haze. We walked around negotiating hiking trails with the stroller, and then Jen took us to an abandoned quarry. We walked through an abandoned tunnel, and once we emerged out into the sunshine, the whole noise and hubbub of the city had disappeared and there was only the peace of the mountain wall and the calm pool of the abandoned quarry pit. Robert found the stones and pebbles fascinating, but Jen and I just hung out in the sunshine, we talked about work, and life in general and it was a very pleasant time.
Later we had lunch at her place, wonderful German bread with Wurst from the German bakery in town. Her quaint flat and the lovely area made me again yearn for a place of my own, where I can start building a life for myself and Robert.

When I arrived home I started what will become a quest for stuffing more and more food into my son. I kept the bottle of formula ready at all time, and tried to give it to him whenever I had a chance. I cut chunks of cheese and gave them for him to nibble on. I even sprinkled olive oil on food as the nurse suggested.

Apart from my feelings of inadequacy and guilt, I had a good day. Jen was recently in Germany and brought Robert a nice present. A soft toy, that can be also used as a sponge for the bath, I am going to call her Patty, although she is a bear ( I don’t understand why all teddies have to be male). She also bought a cuddly blanket, which will sure become a hit with the little one, he snuggled to sleep with it tonight.

Sunny Days.. Rainy Days

July 10, 2008March 25, 2013 ~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment

Last week we had the rains and the whole Western Cape turned into a disaster area, with many people displaced and some villages in the mountains rendered inaccessible by road. This was followed by a cold snap, and snow was seen on the mountains in the surrounding areas. The snow had some entertainment value for South Africans, who rarely see it, but the rain, you get sick of it after a while. For us, long spells of rain are a problem because there isn’t enough time for my washing to dry, and Robert only has so many changes of clothes. I did wash some of his clothes and hung them to dry in the bathroom but they did not smell fresh. In fact, last Sunday my ex had the audacity to complain that Robert stank so bad and he had to bath him early in the morning. The laundy did not see any sun last week, and perhaps that is why they picked up quickly the smell of the dirty nappy, but they were clean. When I pointed this out to my ex he said he did not want to hear complaining, and he wanted Robert to be well groomed when he visited with him. His acid comments grated on me badly. I am doing the best that I can under the circumstances. I wash our clothes by hand, while he has the luxury of the washing machine. I keep my sense of humor when baby and cat act up and find it hard to cope with their changed circumstances. I walk behind the little one, patiently straightening the things he messes up, time and time again, and try to play referee between my cat and Jackie’s. It is a hard life though, I am starting to get fed up.

For one Robert is getting more demanding and active, and Jackie’s place is full of clutter. I am the last person to judge, because I am not Miss Order myself, but the fact remains that it is a house that isn’t used to little people walking underfoot. It has too many knick knacks strewn around, and many dangerous bigger ones lurking at every corner. Right by the door there is an African sculpture; it is roughly the same size as Robert and three times as heavy, and it balances on a small base. I cringe to think of the consequences if it ever toppled over while he was close by. There is also the puzzle of the electrical wiring in this old old place. An annoying example is the burglar alarm connected to an adapter with loose and exposed wiring connectors. This faulty adapter is plugged into a power bar, which in turn plugs into the wall socket. The power bar itself resides on the floor unsecured and it is the only electrical point in my room where I can plug my cell phone and tooth brush charger. This strange arrangement makes the burglar alarm susceptible every time I charge my cell phone, or every time Robert or the cat moves in the surrounding area; the loose connections in the adapter disconnect and the burglar alarm starts beeping because it lost power. It happens at least once every other day, and Jackie barges into the room to fix the connection. I bite my tongue every time, but I had this same problem when I lived here three years ago, and that was minus cat and baby. I always thought that this bad connection should be addressed. In addition the general living arrangement are not great for me, Robert and I (and now Petey) are crammed into a small room, and we have very little cupboard space. We do not have many things, but whether I like it or not, baby paraphernalia takes up a lot of space, and makes a huge mess. I find myself constantly tripping over toys, books, and various pieces of accessories and clothing. Most of Robert’s toys have nowhere to put away, so they are constantly floating around, and I try in vain to keep them in order, or even to keep track of them when they try to disappear amongst all the clutter.

On the up side, I really cannot complain. Jackie has allowed us to overflow into other parts of the house. The toys are often lying around in the lounge. Baby strollers ( the old monster that my ex bought and the new lightweight buggy) and also the baby car seat reside in the second lounge, along with a number of my boxes. My computer sits in Jackie’s office area, and although my part of the desk is horribly cramped, it is still adequate. I have successfully delivered my first small project from this very corner, and consider myself blessed to have this little space with its connection to the internet. The connection was down for a few days while I was doing the project and it was a huge inconvenience to work offline without the benefit of references and then go out late at night to mail translations from a nearby internet cafe. One should be glad for the small blessings in life.

Another thing to smile about is that after a week of rain the sun is shining again, and I am feeling a strong current of hope. The project is finished and I feel elated, the same feeling I used to get after writing an exam, where I know that I have done well. My washing is hanging out in the sun to dry and a delicious pasta sauce is simmering on the stove. Life has its small challenges but overall things are starting to look up.

New Experiences

January 14, 2008March 25, 2013 ~ marobbie ~ Leave a comment

This has been a very busy week with many new experiences for Robert. The stroller has been dusted off and finally put to use, breaking new (and old) ground on the promenade and in the mall. Robert also had his first close encounter with the Atlantic Ocean and the playground.

We are now trying to overcome and extend Robert’s over-stimulation limit, in the stroller environment. Previously we used the carrier, and he would be happy in it for up to two hours with a little bit of a break. Sometimes he would nod off to sleep at the point when it got too much. Under the best circumstances, and even with a break and swapping the carrier between the two of us, two hours is pretty much the maximum limit. We would definitely be much happier pushing the stroller for two hours, but Robert still needs some time to get used to the arrangement.

We spent Robert’s first day at the beach at Llandudno. It was a scorching hot day and we found some shade under some bushes and tall grass. I think I fussed a little too much trying to protect him from the sun. Ron showed him the water and dipped his feet in the cold Atlantic. He enjoyed the feel of the wet sand against his feet, and looked with great interest at the rushing waves. I remembered a similar scene when we took my baby brother Fadi to the beach; he just looked at it perplexed and then started gesticulating with both hands towards it and shouting baby gibberish. Considering that Fadi was looking at the Mediterranean, Robert’s reaction to the Atlantic is s a lot more reserved and philosophical.

After a while at the beach, Robert got his fill of wide open space and started to get fidgety. We were about to call it a day, when he finally succumbed to fatigue and went to sleep on my shoulder. After his little nap Ron tried to keep him busy, introducing him to things like trees, bushes, sand and water. He became very interested and engrossed in his close encounters with things he could touch and feel and forgot a little about the onslaught of information from the wide space around him.

The next important adventure was Robert’s first time in the swing. He kind of enjoyed the slow swinging and wondered at the voices of much older kids in the next swings. It was a Sunday afternoon and the playground was very busy, but we would definitely take him there many times in the future.

Today we had to take baby for his long delayed immunization shot. It feels like ages since our last visit to the nurse. The last time was back in November, and I was anxious to see Robert’s growth progress. I can definitely feel his weight increase in my shoulder and back (Just to make it clear that I am not complaining about this fact, I always say Mashallah in keeping with my native superstition – to thank God and to ward off the evil eye). Of course it is nice to know how much weight I lift up and down every day, just to feel good about my efforts and about the treats I consume with the excuse of putting on weight, hopefully on baby.

The nurse’s rooms weren’t as busy as I expected, and we were only third in the queue when we arrived. We just missed the rush as more and more moms and tots streamed in afterwards. Robert’s statistics for this week: Weight 7160 g; Height 68 cm; Circumference of Head: 41.4cm. He has made good progress Mashallah ! The graph of his weight gain is consistent, slightly above average in weight, and clearly above average in height.

Day One – Mobile again

August 28, 2007November 11, 2008 ~ marobbie ~ 3 Comments

The day started as early as 05:00 am, tea was brought in and a couple of nurses came in. In quick and efficient moves they removed the drip and the catheter. They took away the padding that protected the mattress from underneath me and the loose pads which couldn’t be kept in place and gave me disposable underwear and yet more pads.

Throughout the last night they must have given me two suppositories, and two doses of pain tablets. My main concern however was, being knocked out and missing out on Robert’s feeding time. I needn’t have worried; the nursery staff brought the little one in every three hours and ordered me to feed him. It was hard lying there in bed with limited range of movement; I kind of managed with the bed lifted somewhere between sitting and lying positions. Robert and I had mixed results in those two or three nursing sessions. He took to the breast and latched one time, and could not be tempted at all on another. The nurses were helpful and patient, and never left me before they made sure the feeding was successful. When Robert went on sucking strike, the kindly nurse squeezed some colustrum and spoon-fed him. Some of these kindly nurses are born for the job, they spoke to the infant and cajoled and soothed him, almost managed to put his drugged mother to sleep in the process.

But even with all this going on the night passed slowly, I could not sleep much. When Robert was not in I read a little in my baby book (What to Expect: The First Year) and then in another boring and verbose piece of literature that I fished out of my read-and-discard bookshelf. I chose it because I thought it would put me to sleep. When all of this failed, I just lay there looking out the window, the night was clear and the full moon was shining through; I kept thinking how wonderful it is, to be alive, to be a mother, and to have a beautiful and healthy baby.

When the nurses came to set me free out of bedridden confinement, they explained to me that I will be able to have a shower. Waooo, what a bonus, and here I was thinking that I will have to do with sponge baths for at least a week. I was champing at the bit to get started. However they needed first to have further preparation and inspection to the wound, and I wanted to hear this verdict from my doctor’s mouth. My incision was sprayed with what they claimed to be a plastic spray (?) and I was asked to move from the bed to the chair. It went kind of clumsy because I still had to pull myself up with my arms rather than stomach muscles, but still I managed to do it and sat on the chair, where they took my blood pressure and temperature for the n’th time. I was also anxious to see little Robert and maybe try to feed him, because I was not convinced that the few little drops of colostrum were enough sustenance for the little fellow. I was ready to walk up to the nursery when a nurse pointed out kindly that I was wearing my hospital gown, and there might be some blood on it. Of course she meant to say that half my butt was clearly visible through the back of the gown and the flimsy disposable underwear, so I wisely chose to abort the attempt, especially since they told me they will bring the baby for feeding later.

In the meantime I decided to wash my face, clean up and change, to be ready for my son. I discarded that awful gown and got back into my track-suit pants and vest (the outfit I was wearing to the hospital) the pants are only a little loose now because I still have a 6-month pregnant tummy. I was just done with brushing my teeth when my gynaecologist showed up. In his usual nonchalant joking manner he boomed: Oh you’re looking good. You look ready for another one already.. Tonight? No definitely not tonight, I laughed. He checked up on the wound and declared it in excellent healing condition, and confirmed that I can shower (and even bath) if I wanted to. So I went into the shower immediately after he left. Boy it felt good, to have my own clothes on, and be nice and clean.

When Robert was brought from the nursery I breastfed him in the armchair between the two beds. People continued to drift in and out; I had a breakfast of omelet and mushroom in between feedings, and the nurses kept on showing up at regular intervals, now however, instead of poking me to check me up, they asked me, how’s the bleeding, how’s the wound etc. In contrast to the boisterous entry of my gynecologist, the pediatrician came in very quietly and reported in a gentle voice that he checked on Robert, and everything is fine. I asked him that I was not too sure about him feeding but he assured me that he looks good, and made a poo already. It means that he is getting something.

As in previous days lots of decisions to make, ranging between the trivial and the very important. Firstly there was a survey to fill, a customer (or patient) relations person, making a courtesy call, forms to be filled for including Robert on Medi-Clinic’s webpage, and birth certificate forms to be filled. Then there was the question “to circumcise or not to circumcise”. In our previous conversations I already told Ron that I would like our son to be circumcised. I was born into a Muslim society, where circumcision is the norm, and I believe that almost all newborns are circumcised in my country of origin, regardless of their religious background. There are almost no uncircumcised males in that part of the world. Ron is also somewhat used to the idea, because the procedure is done almost routinely in North America (60% of newborn males are circumcised), and it was even more common for babies of the baby boomer generation. Still it was one of the subjects that we did not really want to talk about, a difficult decision, like finding a name for a male child. We delayed making a definite decision about it, because there was a 50% chance that we will not have to. But now it was time to make that decision. I spoke to the pediatrician and the gynecologist about getting our son circumcised while we were still at the hospital, and they promised to organize it.

The next person I met was obviously related to this issue, the secretary in the office of Dr. K, Specialist Surgeon according to his card. She explained the cost of the procedure, which our medical aid does not pay for incidentally; it was a little bit more than I expected. She said that Dr. K. will perform the operation tomorrow at noon. So that was settled but, all good intentions not withstanding, Ron and I still have our mixed feelings about the whole thing. I also saw B the breastfeeding consultant. She makes a daily round at nine on all new mothers and answers questions relating to breastfeeding and gives advice for problematic issues of latching, pain during nursing and other things. She gave me a few pointers and assured me that baby will gradually become more interested in nursing by the time the real milk comes in, which should be sometime tomorrow afternoon. Until then I should feed him the colostrum on the schedule set by the nursery, because he does not feel hungry or thirsty yet.

Ron arrived around 11:00, he was wearing a gray shirt, and looked freshly shaven and handsome, albeit somewhat tired. He gave me a quick report about the pictures, the emails he sent to friends and family, and their reactions to Robbie’s arrival. The only message I was able to send yesterday was an SMS to all friends and family, in South Africa and abroad. I got to look at the reply messages on my cell phone which Ron took with him home (to download the pictures from the cell phone camera). Robert was brought in for another feeding session a little bit after that. I nursed him again sitting on the big armchair in the center of the room. Ron took more pictures of us.

We stayed together until lunch, where dad was invited to join us. The steak was good, although a little chewy, but still the pepper sauce was excellent. Along with the steak we had potato salad which was also good. Ron said the food was great, and I agreed with him this time. After my dismal dinner last night, and my very small breakfast I was hungry; I was ready to wolf down one of the emergency chocolate and energy bars which Ron stuck in my overnight bag while I was not looking. This lunch was a welcome change, and redeemed my flagging belief in my ability to survive on hospital food. Because our lunch coincided with Robert’s, dad had to feed mom bites of steak while she was breastfeeding junior. It was funny.

After this family lunch we took Robert back to the nursery and Ron encouraged me to take a walk around the hospital. There are a number of roof terraces and balconies around the hospital wings. The roof terrace closest to my ward overlooks Table Mountain. In the ward across the lobby there is a balcony overlooking the city bowl, very dusty and dirty. Ron and I relaxed outside in the warm spring sun, reflecting on our amazement at this new miracle in our life, and how much we love the little one already. It still brings tears to my eyes when I contemplate the truth that I realized on this day: I would gladly give my life for little Robert. Ron felt exactly the same.

During the course of the afternoon I still got many SMS messages from friends in Cape Town. Jackie had SMS’ed me yesterday to ask whether she can come visit, but I advised her to come on the next day, since I was not exactly a sight for sore eyes, incapacitated for the day and hooked up to needles and tubes. Today she SMS’ed saying that she will come sometime after work. Ron left by late afternoon. He still has lots of things to do, and the house to look after. These days he was also working with our landlord to fit double glass on the bedroom window. We requested it to cut down on the terrible noise from our street. We still had no idea how Robert will react to our noisy apartment, but it is safe to assume that he will be used to it, since he got to listen to the den of traffic while he was still in the womb.

Jackie and boyfriend Mark, along with Jason and his fiancée Fiona came to visit sometime in the evening. Jackie brought the little one some clothes that he will be able to wear at six months, while Jason and Fiona brought us flowers, and a teddy bear for little Robert. At this time the teddy bear is still bigger than its new owner. We chatted a little bit about childbirth, circumcision, etc. Jason and Fiona are getting married sometime next year, so obviously starting a family is something that they are looking forward to, and have many questions about. Everyone agreed that my little angel is cute and adorable; of course I cannot give an impartial opinion on that one. I think he is the most precious little one ever. Before they left I managed to change Robert’s diapers for the first time, and take a look at the diaper surprise, which tonight consisted of the tarry meconium poo, and quite a lot of it. It is very sticky and difficult to wipe off.

The day was a beautiful warm spring day, and so was the night. Robert showed more interest in feeding, and I did not have much sleep. Every few hours I awoke shortly before he was brought up to me for feeding, I walked around in the room looked out the window towards the full moon shining brightly over Lion’s Head, I remember feeling so alive and happy. I was still high on adrenaline. Robert sucked for hours. The nurses were happy with the way he is feeding and it seemed that I was doing it right.

D-Day

August 27, 2007November 11, 2008 ~ marobbie ~ 3 Comments

The day before Robert arrived was a Sunday, and my day off work. I joked with my colleagues that it will be my last day off before I start my new job for life. Surely, this is no joke, it is a reality.
We went out for breakfast to a restaurant on Kloof Street in town, and Ron said that we could have almost done the breakfast thing on Monday, since Arnold’s is so close to Cape Town Medi-Clinic.
Sunday was a spring day, the kind of Cape Town day where you cannot very well decide whether to keep the sweater on and off. The setting though was perfect, breakfast with a view of Table Mountain. I had two very nice Cappuccinos, along with a breakfast of egg and sausage while Ron treated himself to a savoury croissant with brie and peppadew (a small very sweet red pepper that is used often as a piquant condiment here in South Africa). After breakfast we went on to the V&A Waterfront where we just strolled around the harbour, and then browsed at the bookshop. I wondered briefly whether I will ever be able to leisurely shop for books again, Ron suggested that I start buying kiddies books. I thought it would be hard to buy a book now for a child we haven’t met yet.

The afternoon we spent at home, Ron read the Sunday paper while I tried to complete my knitting of baby’s jacket, in white and blue. No pinks for this baby even if it is a girl. At the end of the day I washed my hair and went to bed, even on this momentous night, my last night with baby in the tummy, I slept reasonably well. By morning the hole on my side of the bed was its usual size and shape, and we crawled (baby and I) out of bed for our morning walk. It is quite surreal to know that this is it… And the next time we hit the promenade we will have baby with us in the carrier or the buggy.
Ron bought the newspaper for the day, to save for baby. It is a family tradition he learned from his late father I think.
Baby will wonder in later year about the strange news in his birthday paper, the most sensational stuff is usually some or other corrupt politician. Under the spotlight at this time is our Health Minister, famous for her revolutionary ideas in the treatment of HIV AIDS (the use of beetroot, garlic and African potatoes instead of the anti retrovirals- for which she earned her nickname Dr. Beetroot). This time she is accused of Alcoholism and kleptomania to add to her other many virtues.

I was due to arrive in hospital at 12:30 and my operation was scheduled for 14:30.
I prepared myself a hearty breakfast of oats and yoghurt, since god knows when I will be eating again. After my shower I insisted on taking a pose in front of Ron’s camera for my official preggie belly pictures. I went for the beach look and luckily the sun obliged.

Registering at the hospital went quickly enough and a porter carried my hospital overnight bag and escorted us into the maternity ward, I was assigned bed H21. I had a general ward room with two beds, but at the time I was its only occupant. Chains and jewellery off; track suit pants and vest off; on with the surgical gown, a ridiculously small thing, its fastenings keep a huge portion of the back visible. I kind of wondered how a hefty person would ever fit into this sort of thing.

I was ready, and then there was the indefinite wait… nobody tells us anything, we just stay put in the room, watching people come in with new linen and towels. One of the catering staff came to ask me for my menu choices for tomorrow, so many irrelevant decisions to make: tea or coffee, veggies or salad. Which meal would Ron like to share with me? She asked. The choice looked better for lunch tomorrow (steak rather than fish), and besides I thought hospital dinner wouldn’t be enough pickings to stick to Ron’s ribs. The time 14:30 comes and passes.

But suddenly things start to move quickly, a nurse comes into the room and asks me to lie on the bed and the whole bed is wheeled out of the room and into the theatre elevator. Once we reach the theatre level, I am wheeled into a preparation area, while Ron is whisked away somewhere to be ‘prepared’ in his surgical outfit. The time is closer to three than two thirty.
In the preparation area I see a middle aged woman sitting in wheelchair, looked like she was also waiting for some surgical procedure.
Ron shows up in a green hospital scrub, boy I must admit he looked good in the outfit, I wanted to take his picture, but never got around to it.
Someone comes into the room and asks: “which of you is having the baby?” the older woman smiles and says: “not me, I had my time”.
A grey-haired surgeon peers over my head; he looks familiar, with kindly brown eyes and Middle Eastern features. I would have guessed him to be of Greek origin.
He introduces himself as the anaesthetist, the guy who is going to help me experience the delivery without feeling the pain. At some other point my Gynaecologist arrives, and introduces me to his wife Lynn who will assist him. I knew she was a doctor, but I never thought she took part in surgeries! There was also the Paediatrician, a man with clean and innocent looking features, and a soft voice. Babies must love that I think to myself. The last person I remember from the crowd, is a heavy-set nurse with round glasses, she is the recovery nurse she says.
Later Ron would say that there were at least seven other people hovering in the background and attending to different parts of the process.

My friend Britt who has two daughters, both born by c-section, described the procedure to me at length and I also read about it. But watching a movie or hearing a second hand account is never the same as the actual experience.
According to the literature I read: A long needle is inserted into the spine and kept there to administer medication that will numb the uterus and lower body within ten minutes, enabling the obstetrician to make the incision of the c-section, take baby out, clean out the whole uterus and close it up with very little discomfort to the mother.
I am only supposed to feel a sensation of tugging to the skin, and rummaging through the innards.
Only some of this went as I expected. My hospital bed was brought alongside the operating table, and I was helped to move to the operating surface. The recovery nurse must have been the one who hooked me up to the drip and the various beeping and bleeping instruments, she keeps me facing her and looking into her eyes while the anaesthetist jabs the long needle into my back. Ron is watching him do this, it seems to me that he tries several times before he finally gets what he wanted. I do have some sensation, very much like a needle jab.
The anaesthetist explains to me that I am going to feel heat in my legs, and he is right. heat flashes run down my legs, very strange. At the same time I think I get a catheter inserted, which I do not feel, much. Obstetrician and anaesthetist start pouring many types of liquids over my lower body and legs while asking me whether this or that feels cold, testing my sensation of the area I assume, and doing something else as well in the meantime, who knows what.
My surgery gown is yanked up over a bar mounted above the operating table at a level near my chest, this is the screen that I read about in medical literature, to prevent me from peeking while my insides are poked, I think to myself.
Many more questions from the doctor and the anaesthetists, yes I do still have some sensation, but I am not quite sure what they are doing. To me it still feels like pouring drops of water. Another sensation follows; the anaesthetist asks whether I felt him pinching me, I did, but he said he pinched quite hard, what I felt was not exactly painful.
Ten minutes must have passed already, the obstetrician and his wife are right in position and I hear something. Ron asks whether I feel ‘unzipped’ it sounds and feels like somebody ripping two pieces of cloth apart at the seams, but it is not really painful. I have no idea what is happening, the next thing I feel is tugging, and it does hurt, it is like somebody pulling at my outer skin quite hard. I start to feel faint and the beeps of the instruments take a threatening dimension in my head. This must be my heart monitor I register in panic, I am going to pass out. The anaesthetist hovers above me, are you okay, he says, I am giving you some oxygen. A small clear mask is pulled over my nose and I breathe, the faintness and nausea are kept at bay. I hear Ron’s voice saying something, but the action has suddenly moved away from me. They show me a little grease-covered infant over the screen, definitely a boy as I felt all along. The sight of him takes the edge off my panic for a second, but I am still struggling at the brink of consciousness. The bleeps are going erratically fast then slow again, people around me are moving at a frantic pace, and I have no clue whether this is normal, or the prelude to disaster.
The next thing I hear is the soft voice of the paediatrician, as he hands me a bundle wrapped in a towel, a small face peers at me under a white hat. “Here is your Son” the man says, and I feel like I am in some kind of a dream. The clock in the theatre shows around 15:20.
This must have been happening while my doctor and his wife were still putting me together, but I do not remember any more pain.
The experience I relate here is part recollection and part reconstruction from the excellent pictures Ron took. Knowing that he was there was a great comfort to me, and I do appreciate how strong he is.

What happens next is exactly by the book, I got to hold little Robert while in recovery and then I was wheeled up to the room. At this point I was ‘paralyzed’ from the waist down, and while I inched myself to the operating table by my own strength, I was hefted by the anaesthetist and the recovery nurse from back to the bed.
Pain would come in later, but it was only a minor detail. The focus was now on Robert, getting to look at him, learning to nurse him in my incapacitated state, and trying to get to grips with a whole new reality. I have become a mother to this tiny little infant. At around seven or eight in the evening I decided to ask for something to eat, I was not hungry, but I thought the last time I ate was twelve hours ago, and the food I though would keep me occupied for some time and take my mind of the nagging pains. When it came dinner turned out to be a slim slice of bland fish, with two teaspoons of rice and some type of non-descript salad I can hardly remember. Three days in this place and I will starve to death, I thought to myself.

I do not remember a lot about this first night, but I know I drank a lot of water. I must have asked for two jugs of water during the night.
Hardly any sleep with people coming in and out every so often, checking the drip, the catheter bag, blood pressure and temperature.
At regular intervals I kept hearing this beep, and every time it happened my feeling-less leg would stiffen. It took me some time to realize that I had been put on automatic blood pressure monitoring. Every hour or so the monitor would start up and tighten the blood pressure cuff around my ankle. The nurses came in at regular intervals to check the measures, and at some point woke me up to ask whether I am okay (no joking).
Throughout the night they brought Robert to me from the nursery at least twice, pain medication kept me drowsy, and the sensation slowly started to return gradually to my legs. I remember at some point concentrating very hard and looking at the legs to make them move. Early in the next morning though I was able to pull my knee up and extend the leg again.

Playing Tourist in Cape Town

November 12, 2006March 22, 2013 ~ marobbie ~ 1 Comment

It is an absolute hazard to walk Cape Town as a tourist. A hazard to your pocket that is.
Yesterday my colleague Kirsten and I walked out of the office to have a cup of coffee.
It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, but in Cape Town this is not exactly the greatest time to tour the coffee shops on St. George’s Mall. Most shops close by one, and the Mall turns into a silent and empty space, save for a few coffee shops that cater mainly for tourists.
We ventured first to the Gold Museum on Strand Street, but its coffee shop was closed for a function. The museum itself has a collection of exhibits, traditional African gold pieces as I understood from Kirsten; their owner made them available to the public in one of the older buildings on Strand Street. The street is incidentally where we both work.

We marched onwards looking for our cup of coffee, and ended up on the Green Market Square.

Here one of the coffee shops has spilled over its white plastic and metal chairs onto the pavement. A few people were indulging outside while the person working on the take away hutch looked glumly outside. Inside the restaurant a handful of African waitrons and waitresses where swaying to loud African rhythms blaring from stereo loudspeakers, and in true African tradition they continued their merry-making oblivious to the pair of us waiting outside on the empty table. Kirsten turned her head on all this, preferring to watch a group of youngsters, barefooted and scrawny, singing and dancing and drumming for the pleasure of the bored tourists. The youngsters smart as they are in peddling their primitive music, caught on immediately and Kirsten could not resist giving a full five Rand coin to the little girl who had just finished jumping around and doing the split, I had to dig into my wallet as well for a couple of stray coppers ( and one or two silver coins no less).

After a few minutes of being caught between these two conflicting rhythms ( the street dancers on one side and the staff’s choice of hip hop on the other), we decided to move on, especially since we have seen only the backs of the merry waiters at the coffee shop. Oh, maybe we just caught them at a bad time.

In the end we had our coffee, at a small place called Afro Cafe. This place has the uncomplicated feel and colour of the African continent. The plastic table cloths sport the African colours and dance with the brilliance of yellows, reds and greens. The lighting fixtures are made of recycled material, green plastic bottles and red caps among a myriad of other brightly coloured scrap.

Here as well we did not fail to attract the tourists. One guy came to sell us the ‘Big Issue’ a magazine whose sole purpose is to create an income for the people selling it.

Once he sold us one copy he turned to the next customer begging him to buy another one from him, it was the last one he said.

Next came the bead artist, he had wall hangings and key chains, composed of beads threaded on fine wire. The shapes and colours were really amazing and very true to life, I pondered buying a gecko or a chameleon and in the end settled for a plump little aircraft – that was not as well proportioned as the animals, but which I thought would be more practical for me to carry around in a bag.

At one time I actually succeeded in turning the gentle African salesman away, by telling him I worked in this place, I earned my money in Rands, but then I made a mistake of asking him where he came from, and he said from Zimbabwe, and at once I felt his polite admission tug at my heart. How could I resist helping a Zimbabwean brother, whose whole family could be dependent on selling one ornament.

So I came back after this outing, poorer in pocket but richer in experience. I must say Kirsten and I make a terrible pair, she can’t resist buying stuff and she mostly shames me into doing the same.