8 Months down the line...

So here we are, almost 8 months after the death of my beloved husband. And I feel sad to say life is good. The day your husband dies you feel that life is about to end, but the saddest day comes when you realise life goes on and you can laugh at silly things again. In that sense life is cruel, for the person who died. I would love to think that when I die the whole world will come to an end. But I have found out the hard way: 'That ain't going to happen'.

 

I think the reason why I am coping is because of my incredible unthinkable support system. I realise now that we sometimes forget that bad things can happen when everything is going well in life. For most of my friends life is easy and enjoyable at this stage. They are either engaged, planning their wedding, on honeymoon, organising date nights or having babies. But what most girls (woman) forget is that the day they get married they still have to maintain their own lives. Yes, it is good to be friends with your husband’s friends, and yes, it absolutely fine to spend most of your time with your husband. However, I have realised the people who help and support you (on a daily basis - because that is how much you need them) when your husband passes away, is 95% your friends and 5% his friends. I often want to tell my girlfriends to stop neglecting their own lives with regards to their hobbies, their friends and their family. Treasure the people who have been there for you for years and treasure their love because you never know when you will need it the most... (I truly hope you won’t need it like I did - ever).

 

My family (and in-laws) are just awesome. I can only hint that I need help (in any way) and they are there and ready to assist.

 

My closest friends who I love so dearly have been there for me every day. My best friend has been sending me good night messages every single night since my husband died and that is what’s making sense at the moment. To be loved and cared for.

My only piece of advice for now is to treasure your (own) friends. You never know when you will need them.

Fear of dying...

A friend asked me a week or two ago what my biggest worries are at the moment. My only and biggest worry is to die.

Just so that you know: FMC was never afraid of dying – he wasn’t going to die so soon. We (yes we – kids, parents, family, friends and our whole support system) were going to win this stupid cancer and live together till the end of time... I wanted to include a breakdown of his last 48 hours in this blog post - but couldn’t get myself to write anything.

Me on the other hand… since 13 January 2014 I am very afraid of dying – Thanatophobia. I have had 5 different ‘cancer’s’ in the last 4 months, from breast cancer to bone cancer. When I feel a slight headache coming along it must definitely be brain cancer (and not because I drank too much of the Ronnie Melck Shiraz 2010 from Muratie the night before) or when my tummy muscles are sore I conveniently forget that I did a yoga class the previous day for the first time in months (no it must be some form of cancer!). I always knew that it is possible to die at any moment and that it is not in our hands, but it always happened to other people. Now I am that ‘other people’.

The reality of death sucks big time.

Before FMC was diagnosed I was clueless of how cruel life can be. All I saw in life was the ‘bold and beautiful’ and I was extremely naïve at times. I wish with my whole heart that I can have that feeling back just for one day (even one hour would be nice). Now when I see students having a good time on campus I think to myself that it’s a good thing that we don’t know what the future (for some a very brief future) holds. And then I wonder which one of them is going to die first and at what age? I feel sad that I have become so cynical. Even though I try my best to be positive my mind always ends up thinking worst case scenario. Or when my friend tells me about a holiday that they are planning for next year April/May, I think that she is really lucky to be able to plan so far ahead, because I am not sure whether I will be alive and well to join them. In her mind there is no doubt about it - they are definitely going. This really sucks. BECAUSE I AM ALIVE AND WELL!!

I only hope this is temporarily and that my old naïve mind set will return soon…

Thanks go out to these 2 wonderful friends. You are the best - Morny you are also cool ;)  

Live life to the fullest, i am trying.

Being strong!

I've heard so many times over the past 6 months that I am a strong, brave woman.  I appreciate people thinking this and congratulating me for being this person that I seldom feel like. I have learnt that strong has different meanings and that learning to be ‘strong’ happens very fast.

Firstly, I have to thank my wonderful parents (and the rest of my family) who raised me to always be positive and see the bright side of life. I think this plays a huge role in my being ‘strong’. I thank this same incredible family for carrying me and my lovely kids through these past few months. I am thankful for their support. Without them I would not have been as ‘strong’.

Secondly, what else can I do other than to be strong? Like all mothers I want nothing more for my kids than to have a normal life and to be happy. Since FMC’s diagnoses the only thing that kept me sane was to be positive and see the bright side of things (thanks again goes to my parents). Hopefully I can teach my kids the same valuable life skills.

Thirdly, I have realised that there is always someone who is worse off.   When I speak to people in my direct environment they will give me there sincere condolences, thinking how on earth can kids grow up without a father and how can a single mom work and raise these two kids by herself? (I actually feel ashamed writing the next part). The week after Francois died, while I was feeling sorry for myself in this shitty situation, I realised that the women/angel (Flora) who is helping me every day with my kids in my house, is also raising two kids by herself. This while she is working full time and not one of these kids are even her own. Meaning both kids don’t have/know their biological mother and one of the children has never even met their father. I always knew this but I always thought it’s OK for them; it is part of their culture. It’s not. We are all fighting the same battles only on different battle fields. Looking at their situation I feel extremely blessed.  I have a (reliable) car to drive, a (waterproof) roof over my head, (fresh and healthy) food to eat and a (good) education. Things could have been much worse for me and my crazy kids.

Looking brave and strong is the easy part. To actually be brave and strong is a bit more challenging. I can remember when I was still in University a friend phoned me one windy night and told me that she was scared and too afraid to get out of her bed and go to the toilet because of a noise she had heard. Knowing that she needed me, I got out of bed, drove to her flat, got out in the dark and knocked on her door, just so that I could help look through her flat to check that there was nothing to be afraid of. Driving back in my car that night, I realised that I was soaking wet and shaking of the stress, but it didn’t matter because it was over and done with. I think I feel the same these days.   Even though I feel so damn scared and clueless; pushing through is just the only thing to do. Being truly strong is not always easy and possible.

Another thing I have realised from FMC’s illness is that every moment that I live without the pain he had I should live to the fullest. There was nothing more that he wanted than to be pain free and to do everyday chores,  like taking out the trash, packing the car before we go on holiday (even though I’ve packed the whole house) or changing  our children’s  dirty nappy’s. Now when I have to do something that I don’t enjoy doing, I just think to myself: at least I am able to do it. And for that I am thankful. We don’t know what the future holds for us and for that reason embrace every moment to the fullest.

Its a bit sad that I had to loose someone so dear to make me realise that I have to try my hardest to live my live according to the two following quotes:

Be kinder than necessary, you don't always know when it is needed the most....

&

What would you have done different today if it were your last?

How are the kids?

How are the kids?

Over the past few weeks many people have asked me how the kids are doing. I wish I could say that I knew 100% how they are doing. It’s difficult for me to judge. The questions that I ask myself every time they are doing something outside the norm (shouting like a crazy person when I try to blow dry my hair because they would rather want to do it for me, grabbing a toy out of their friend’s hand because it his little sister's toy or when they rather want to jump on the bed than to get dressed) is, are they behaving like this because their father just passed away or because they are now raised by a single mother or just simply because, that is how kids behave when they are almost 2 and 3 years old?

 Annabellie: My blue eyed girl – FMC once said, long before we had Annabellie, that his daughter will be his blue eyed girl. Little did we know that she will have the bluest eyes, ever.Her eyes remind me every day of how FMC loved his little girl. Even though she was still young while he was alive his eyes lit up every time he saw her. And not to mention the day she said: “Pappa.” I am so grateful that he had the chance to hear her sweet little voice say that.

 

Annabellie will be 2 years old in July which means she was just 1 and a half years old when she lost her dad.I somehow feel that it is easier for her as she has no idea of what is going on. My heart breaks every time I think that she will never remember her dad and the way that he looked at her. I am so thankful for technology because I have loads of pictures and videos of them together. I used to get so angry with FMC because I was constantly the one taking pictures and videos which meant I was never on them. Most of the pictures I have taken the past 3 years were of FMC and the kids. He always said that he would rather just enjoy the moment than to take a picture. Happy face.

JD (Johann-Deon): JD is a different story. Annabellie and JD are 15 months apart. Therefore, JD was ‘assigned’ to FMC the day that Annebellie was born. The first week of having Annabellie in our lives, JD was at FMC side 24/7 so that I could settle in with the new born. This made the bond between father and son unbelievably strong. From there onwards JD went to work with FMC most mornings before school and when FMC was running errands in town or in Paarl, he would be sure to take JD along. Most days since then I would also take JD to Francois (at work) at 16:30 in the afternoon and they will ‘boer’ until it was time to come home. JD idealized his dad. His dad was truly his hero because he could drive a John Deere tractor and made the best wine (for mommy of course).

And then FMC got sick. JD was very understanding when FMC told him his tummy was sore and he (JD) was convinced that the Dr will help daddy. But the day that FMC started with Chemo the Doctors advise us that it is best if FMC keeps his distance with the kids due to his low immune system. Resulting in one of the saddest moments when JD could not understand why he can’t kiss FMC on his lips good night. I can still remember how sad JD was when FMC told him that they can only hug each other for a while till he gets better. Since that day JD became more and more distant to FMC... I wish he could have understood that there was nothing more that FMC wished to have done than to kiss him and just hold him close. Everything changed. JD could not drink out of the same cup or water bottle as FMC. They didn’t go for tractor drives anymore. Daddy was tired the whole time. No jumping on the trampoline and so I can continue…

JD used to ask me constantly when FMC was not around:” Pappa magie eina? Dokter Pappa beter?” (Translated: Daddies tummy sore? Doctor Daddy better) JD became so dependent on me for the first time since Annabellies birth. After Francois death JD asked me at least once every hour (for the first week) Where is daddy? Just to answer himself that FMC is dead. Then he will ask if FMC’s pain is gone and that the doctors tried everything. And after I answered everything he will just continue as normal being satisfied that the dr’s tried their best.

During the first week after FMC passed away JD would tell me that FMC said ‘NO’ every time JD had to do something he didn’t want to do. And soon I realised I have to tell JD that his dad wanted him to listen to me and do what I say. I had so start a command like this: ‘JD, daddy said that I can ask you to …..’ And when he really didn’t want to do something he will start to cry and said that he is sad and miss his dad. But as soon as he gets what he want there is no more tears. That luckily stopped after a week and he realised that it’s only us now. And we have to help each other in this shitty situation.

JD went from almost potty trained to wearing a nappy full time.But now after nearly 3 months we are practically at the no nappy stage. I think this was just a way of him to control something in his life. Apparently when toddlers go through trauma, regression behaviour is normal. A number of people have asked me if I am going to send him and Annabellie to counselling and my answer is simply: I will when I see negative behaviour. For now we are dealing with it as a family, talking about it constantly and working through it when necessary. It is not that I will not consider therapy when it is needed but a very dear friend of mine, who lost her farther when she was only 4 years old, told me that she went straight into therapy after her dad died and years later she realised that she and her mother never had the chance to grieve and work through the situation together. My feeling is just that the grieving process is normal. And we have to be sad and angry from time to time. It is how we react to our feelings that are more important. I really and truly hope that I can give my children the corrective guidance and love that they need during the years to come.

The best advice I got from a friend is to keep the routine the same. Ever since FMC was diagnosed JD continued to go to school and swimming lessons like we used to. And then we had to move… Before we started to pack we went to the new house daily just to get comfortable with the idea of the new house. And luckily for JD who absolutely adores his grandpa the builder, enjoyed to be involved in building his new room and painting it.And the absolute best thing for JD was so see his new best friend. It is funny how I always thought that children should grow up on a farm because it will in the long run be better for them. On the contrary, I think kids enjoy friends far more at this age than to watch tractors driving past their house.

It feels strange to say it (now nearly 3 months after my beloved husband’s death), that I feel so blessed. Blessed to be a mother of such lovely kids.You quickly realise how much your husband loved you after his death, and how much friends and family means. Big thanks to every single person that constantly help us fight this battle. The smallest gesture makes a huge difference in our lives. That I can promise you!

Worst day of my life....

15 Nov 2013 - Somerset West Mediclinic

Worst day of my life....

You probably would think it was the day that my husband died (13 January 2014 – what a terrible terrible day). No it was every single day/ time I saw Francois (FMC – Francois Muratie Conradie) after his diagnoses on the 15^th November 2013. I feel nauseous if I think back of this day.  I have to force myself to think of this day so that I can tell the story.

(sitting here, frozen and scared to unlock the memories of the 1^st week of new life – here we go)

Finally after one and a half months wondering what in this world could be causing this abdominal pain FMS first felt when he was on a business trip in China in September 2013 a (very good and understanding) doctor decided that he is going to do surgery to investigate this unconfutable feeling.   -symptoms he experienced:
started out with a few cramps in his tummy daily
bloated  feeling after eating)  
loss of apatite
Indigestion and stomach discomfort
(You see what I’m doing here – moving away from the 15^th Novembers memories – will get there eventually)

So after  a MRE, colonoscopy, 2 sonars, numerous blood test and 5 doctors the general surgeon decided that they are going to remove his appendix (on 12 November) because at this stage it looked like the only cause of discomfort even though it wasn’t swollen enough (according to medical records) to cause this kind of discomfort. While walking to the OR (operation room) by his side, I prayed to God to please let it be his flippen appendix! After the surgery the doctor informed me that while they took out his appendix the found another problem and he thinks this might be the cause of all the troubles. But he is 90% sure the white spots on in his abdominal area are curable. This was truly a bitter sweet moment. Even though the problem was worse than what we expected I was happy for two reasons at that moment that I wanted to kiss this doctor – by the way he is very sexy doctor. Firstly, we now know what caused al the drama and secondly, it was curable. The next day (13 Nov – getting closer) the doctor informed us that it might be a strain of TB that needs treatment of 6 months but everything will be back to normal after the treatment.  So the next day (14 Nov – oooh its very close now) the doctors (yes now there was more than one doctor on his case – rising concern with me once again – always the pessimist) informed us that the lab test shows that it is defiantly not TB. So now what the hell is it then!!!

On the morning of the 15^th November it started to rain softly and the clouds gathered over the Somerset west area – most of you will remember this day as the day that the Lourens River flooded into the Medi Clininc. I went to visit FMC in the hospital before I went to an conference at the Lord Charles , to hear if the doctors had any answers to what is causing this drama.
                                                                                                                                                No answers again…….
So then I phone the doctor and made an appointment to that evening at 17:00 to discuss this problem. I went to the hospital at 15:00 and climbed in FMC bed with him because it was so cold. This picture was taken then. And this was also the last time I can remember that I saw (no wait there was another time) him that he looked contend/happy/relaxed as in this picture, and that was the night before he died – will tell you at another time about that.

     17:00, 15 November 2013
Rain is falling from the sky like I have never seen before. FMC’s room is dark… and then the doctor walked in. I will never in my life forget the look in die Dr eyes. It was a look of incredible sadness. As he pulled a chair closer I realised shitty news is coming our way. When the doctor said the word: C-A-N-C-E-R it felt like I was warm and cold at the same time. I didn’t know if I wanted to sit or stand. I wanted to vomit. And then I saw Francois face. He was scared. Very scared. The Dr kept quiet for a few minutes to give us the time to inhale this terrible news. 
     Then FMC said: Adél, I am so sorry that I am doing this to you…
Always putting himself and his feelings second. I then asked the Dr if it is bad. Dr’s reply: No, it’s VERY BAD.
                                                                                                                   ……… Silence     FMC was supposed to stay in the hospital till the next morning, but with this news there was no way that he could spend another night in this place. We left the hospital at 18:00 in silence and drove (swam) home in silence.

I think the only thing worse than this will probably be when a Dr tells you your child has cancer. There are no words to describe how I felt that night. Every second hoping wishing things could be different. Trying to make sense of this mess.

This was truly the worst day of my life – don’t judge me now in thinking why not 13 January 2014. I think I lost my husband, the true FMC, that day in the hospital. After that day we only once had a slight argument (and how did I grave to have a decent argument with him), we never laughed till gasping for air and he was never independent like the FMC I came to know over the 8 years that we known each other. And this is the reason why I absolutely hate this date!

The WHY'S!

 

Once upon a time we were the fabulous four...



Dec 2012 - Strand

Before I start to tell my families heart-breaking, sad, emotional (and so I can continue with all the sad and negative words I can think of) story I would like to take this moment to explain why I am doing this blog and why I am doing now.

My motive: Even though I want to help other young ladies in the same awful situation, I feel I need to be a little selfish and do this for myself! It feels to me that even though my family and I went through this emotional roller coaster the past 6 months it was (sometimes by some people) expected of me (and my beloved husband)to try and keep other people’s feelings and reactions in mind and sometimes to cost of my (our) own. Therefore, I want to tell my story and capture all the emotions and feelings that made me who I am today – yes I know, how changed can you be after only 2 months had passed since my husband died - it feels like a lifetime ago and so many things changed and there was so many important decisions to make – that I defiantly feel like a different person than 6 months ago.

Why now: My husband was diagnosed on 15 November 2013 (after 1.5 months of going from doctor to doctor in search to find the cause of his weird tummy pains) and this was 4 weeks before I had to hand in my thesis for my M. I decided at that time, I would rather do everything possible to help my husband fight this unthinkable disease and post-pone my hand in time of my thesis. During the seven weeks after the diagnoses I did absolutely everything imaginable to increase the chances of the chemo to work. This meant that when I was not making juice (beetroot/celery and green apple – our favourite), driving to the chemist to buy loads of pain medication, driving to the doctors, making all kinds of food to find something nutritious that accommodates with the chemo and being a mother of two very young and kiddies there was no time to do anything else in my spare time other than crying silently when taking a toilet brake. I had to be strong for my husband – I was (and defiantly is still) a strong believer of positive thinking can help concur almost anything. (I am jumping the gun now). So after he died seven weeks after diagnoses life changed dramatically, from informing all 5 siblings that their beloved youngest brother pasted away to deciding (minutes after I learnt of his death) if he wished to be cremated and which funeral house he wanted to use (how the hell was I supposed to know all of this – dying was never an option - so why would we discussed this?) And then lastly, moving to a new house and neighbourhood. Making all these decisions takes time and this is the reason why I writhing this now. Because everything is settling down now and I have time to think and and process all the feelings from the last 6 months.

My goal: To feel a little better...

Over the next few weeks I would like to relive the moments that went by me and my kids way to quickly and try to make sense out of it all (if possible).