Saturday in the Park

Written at 16h45, Friday 13 April 2012

♫Pum pum papum, puuum pum papum, puuum pum papum pum pum pum pum
Pum pum papum, puuum pum papum, puuum pum papum pum ♫

I’m one of those people who fixate on a song, listen to it obsessively, until it’s run its course, then move on to the next one. The phase could last a day, a week, or even weeks. My current favourite, swimming-in-my- bloodstream song is Chicago’s “Saturday in the Park”. I absolutely love this song! Listening to it right now. I love everything about it – hard to isolate one single thing that hooks me – although the opening riff, repeated later, is funky and fun, guaranteed to put a smile on my face and get my body moving. The other day I walked to the internet café, and listened to the song on my earphones (on my phone’s playlist) the entire time.

♫Pum pum papum, puuum pum papum, puuum pum papum pum pum pum pum
Pum pum papum, puuum pum papum, puuum pum papum pum ♫

By the time I got there, I think I’d listened to it six times. I even caught myself walking to the beat – haha! I can’t seem to get enough of it. I took a train to town yesterday, and listened to the song through the earphones over and over again, closing my eyes and losing myself in a time gone by, a time I find myself yearning for, occasionally. I opened my eyes, and sitting opposite me was an old friend, smiling and gesticulating for me to sit next to her. I reluctantly took my leave of Chicago, and went over to chat. Couldn’t wait for the return trip, to listen again. In town, after my first port of call, I took a walk up to Jazz Workshop, to buy a set of strings, and once again listened to the song repeatedly. Can’t explain it. I have to fill my being with it until I’m sated. I never subject others to this, however – I wouldn’t force others to listen. I’ll be honest, though: I used to do so - before I got earphones.

Today we had berg wind conditions, which means it was stiflingly hot (mid-30’s), with a moderate wind. The sky is fascinating on days like these, as the clouds spend hours forming and gathering for the inevitable rain. This is a day to wash blankets and towels, which is what I did.

But my day had as its focus, once again, my mom. I was out for hours, yesterday, and felt really bad to have left her alone for all that time, so today I think I overdid the nurse thing. Anyway, some progress was indeed made. It’s just very tiring for me, and very confusing for my mom.

One of the breakthroughs is that I now have a referral letter from the doctor, and will be taking her to hospital on Monday morning. External examinations have shown nothing, so now it’s time to explore further. I have no idea what to expect, but I suppose it’s quite impossible that they would admit her. I actually hope they do. I have no idea what I’m doing, and I’m sure she’d be better off being looked after by medically trained people who’d know what her symptoms mean.

The part that saddens me the most is how, when my mom’s clear and in the moment, she asks me, “Trudes, what IS wrong with me?” And all I can do is answer briefly and honestly, telling her two doctors have examined her, have found nothing, and that the next step is to have tests at hospital. I have two theories, and they may even conflate, once the tests have produced results.

Isn’t it funny how we need to know the name of something, before we know how to respond. I don’t need to know the name of my mother’s condition – I just need her to be looked after properly. If she needs certain medication, she needs to be given that. If she needs to be on a drip, she needs that. All I do is fret and fuss around her, trying my best, sometimes handling it calmly and what I’d call successfully, but other times I get SO frustrated, as her forgetfulness makes her suspicious of my version of things (e.g. OF COURSE I’ve eaten - how can you say I haven’t eaten all day! I MUST’VE eaten – why would I NOT eat!?) Sometimes, when I can see my presence is causing more harm than good, I quietly retire to my house, a few metres from her flatlet. Even then, it’s really hard for me to switch off.

I try to imagine how frustrating it must be for her to experience herself in this weakened state. Before the 24th of March, she was hale and hearty, full of opinions, often cynical and intolerant, but a constant force in my life, keeping me strong and showing me, by example, that, when you have music coursing through your veins, you have everything you need. And now she doesn’t even play her piano, and the only time I hear her hitting those high soprano notes, is when she does what my kids and I call her ”opera sneeze”.

I’m trying to figure out, day by day, whether I’m supposed to be saying goodbye to my mom or whether this is a temporary thing from which she’ll bounce back, after treatment. Every part of me wants her to be the feisty person she used to be. Yes, full of beans sometimes, but that was just because we both have such strong personalities and opinions, and because we’re 31 years apart, were bound to look at life differently. VERY differently, sometimes. I need to remember these lessons for when I’m older and my kids are middle-aged.

And so, as I sit at my favourite typing spot in my house - the kitchen table - with the stunning view of the southern part of the Table Mountain range through one window and Devil’s Peak through another, I can only resign myself to the cycles of nature that are part of us all of the time. Nature gives and nature takes, and we have to soften ourselves, in order to respond to the ebb and flow of life.

As the clouds continue to merge and the heat of the day subsides, I give thanks for the people in my life, and for the love they show, in different ways. I have such amazing friends, who, with just a few words in an sms or a quick phone call, remind me that they’re a heartbeat away, and that I don’t need to feel alone. A friend of mine listened sympathetically while I told her how scared and out of control I felt, with my mom’s current condition, and then she gave me a huge hug, and I realised the importance of physical contact when you’re freaked out. It has a grounding, reassuring, calming effect, even restoring some hope.

I give thanks for my sister, and pray for her safe return from her overseas trip. I miss her so much. She has a matter-of-factness about her, after years in the Nursing profession, that I wish I possessed, right now. I keep thinking, “When Wendy gets back, SHE’LL know how to handle this!” I know how to sing, write songs and play my guitar, and I’m a good teacher and a good mom, but what I’m dealing with now - I’m WAY out of my depth.

I pray for an improvement – or, at least, stability - in my mom’s condition.


♫Listen children, all is not lost!
All is not lost! Oh, no, no!
Pum pum papum, puuum pum papum, puuum pum papum pum pum pum pum
Pum pum papum, puuum pum papum, puuum pum papum pum ♫