New Year New Hair

I’ve been itching for a change with my hair this year.  Initially I thought I would make a HUGE change and would go SHORT SHORT.  Like boy short.  But when I headed off to the hairdreser this am, I chickened out, I don’t think I’m *quite* ready for that big a change with my hair just yet… maybe next time but for now this is what I ended up with…

Basically I’m a LOT blonder than I’ve been in the last few years and now my hair is short again – above my shoulder line.  So here’s to a new year and a new look. Again. 🙂

What about the GIFT?

A few people have asked me what we plan to do about our upcoming GIFT in light of the recent events in my life.  

Now I’d like to ask that those of you who don’t agree with our decision, not try to convince us otherwise.  The decision of what to do is mine and Cliff’s and we’ve made the decision and we’re sticking to it come what may.  No amount of trying to convince us the other way will change our minds and all that will happen is that I’ll get upset, so please I know it will be coming from your hearts but rather bite your tongue if you feel the need to try make me change my mind.

Consensus seems to be that we should delay treatment. 

That I’m too fragile, that I’m too entrenched in my grief over my Dad’s passing, it will be too stressful doing treatment and living through the local memorial service… those are a few of the many reasons we’ve been given by others to delay.  Which honestly are all reasons that I’ve thought about long and hard.

But if I’m honest the next treatment will be stressful no matter when I do it.  I’ll still be in some stage of grief over my Dad’s passing.  My heart will still be tender and will be for years to come I think.  There are people in the world that go through treatment and deal with way worse additional stress than I’ll be under who still fall pregnant so it’s not like the added stress will have any impact on the final outcome – which is in fact already decided.  It’s either going to work or it’s not – no amount of utopia surrounding me will change that.

Cliff asked me if (it sounds nasty but was not meant this way at all) if I was emotionally stable enough to go ahead as planned.  And having thought about it I really feel like I am.  Whilst I am still sad over the loss of Dad, I am emotionally stable enough to work every day, emotionally stable enough to drive everyday so realistically I should be emotionally stable enough to stick needles into myself daily and have a date with a dildo cam every 2 days (even under normal circumstances most people would consider the process a tad weird and ironically would think me emotionally unstable to go through with it).

The thing is this. 

My Dad is gone.  His life has been lived.  And delaying my treatment will not change this ONE IOTA.  His soul will still be gone from us, and all that I’ll feel is that I lost out on the chance of my theory being proved.  I’ll feel like I’ve failed yet again in a very different way.

And I know that my Dad, who loved me so much, would not want me to delay this treatment cos of him.  I can just hear him now.  “What on earth are you thinking Dungfunnel?  You need to move forward.”  He was big on moving forward.

And so, that is what we’ve decided to do.  We will be moving forward with our February GIFT.  In an odd way, I’m hoping that my Dad has spoken with the boss man upstairs and that he’s already met the child or children we’re going to have. 

So GIFT in February it is.  I think it’s gonna be a wild one – hang on if you join me for the ride.

Rest in Peace Dad

My Dad passed away on the 20th January 2010 at approximately 06h30.

It’s been four days since he passed and I still cannot really believe it.  It feels so unreal to me.  As much as we knew he was ill, his death (can’t quite come to terms with using that word in conjunction with him yet) passing has shocked us as a family to the core.  I think the emotion that we all feel most is one of guilt.  Guilt for not having been with him when he passed, guilt for not having made him come home to SA when we knew he was sick, guilt for words not said, guilt for not having been a better daughter to him and so on and so forth.  I hate that he passed away with nobody but his wonderful nurse Callie with him.  I hate that but take comfort that God was there with him.

On the other hand I’m grateful to know that he is no longer in pain.  Dad was admitted to hospital on the 18th December last year after he had got a really bad infection due to the treatment he was on for his leaukemia.  He was severely ill but his doctors felt that they had this infection under control and that we were not needed in Wales at that time.  On top of the really bad infection he had, he was in incredible pain due to his bones in his spine that were crumbling, so was doped on morphine and was pretty much out of it most of the time.

Mom, my sister and I talked about his situation a lot and we had decided on the Sunday before his passing that my sister and I would go to Wales and see him.  That he needed to know that we loved him enough to come and see him.  We never got that chance.

Early on Wednesday morning my Mom got a call from the hospital in Wales to say that Dad had taken a turn for the worst but that doctors were with him and they were working hard to get him stablised.  When my sister called at 04h00 to check his status we were advised that he was stable and in the ICU where they were keeping a close eye on him.  And at 06h30 he took his last breath.

He was such a strong person.  He was a hero, a Selous Scout and hard working Army man.  He worked in Iraq and was spared miraculously there more than once (that’s a story for another day).  He worked with Game Rangers here and here and taught them everything he knew about tracking and surviving in the bush.  He ran the anti poaching units for the North West Parks Board.  He loved the bush.  It was his life.  He loved us girls so much, so much that he decided to go back to Europe and die there so we would be spared the pain of seeing him sick and weak.  My niece was the absolute apple of his eye.  My heart breaks that he’ll never get to see my children born.

His wish was to have his ashes scattered over a river as the Fish Eagle cries, and we will carry these wishes out.

Hamba Gahle Babba.

I love you and miss you every day.

Erm, oh Hi! Look it’s 2010

I’ve been totally avoiding my blog of late.  I’ve just not been inspired to write anything really.

Since my last pitiful post, life has gone on and we’ve got ourselves through the Festive season.  People warned me about doing a treatment cycle just before Christmas – pretty much everyone I know told me to avoid a Christmas cycle cos if it did not work it would be extra hard to get through.  I thought it would be just like any other failed cycle – I mean they all suck right?  They’re all hard to “get over”.  But oh my hat, Christmas was VERY hard this year.  It should have been a time of celebration and joy at the news that we were finally “up the spout” with sprog and instead I found it was a time of forced smiles and curried joy so as not to put a damper on everyone elses Festive spirit.  Christmas Eve was spent with the Young’s and Christmas day was spent with the Curley clan – cousins aunts and uncles and all.

I worked right through the season (admittedly not very hard but worked none the less) and managed to lose 7 kg’s and keep this weight loss consistent.  Saying no to those added treats over this season is not as hard as one thinks. (I think being sadder than normal helps)

Cliff and I spent a very quiet New Years Eve at home with our hounds.  We drank lots of champers (no where to drive and certainly no reason not to) and had a braai on our patio.

Just before the clock turned we put the tunes on full blast had a little dance in the lounge,

blew our vuvuzela in preparation for the FIFA 2010 World Cup being hosted in our country this year

and has a quick snog at midnight.  Cliff went to bed and I stayed up drinking champers and watching movies.  And so started our year.

2010.  Sjoe, who would have thought it would get here as quickly as it did?
As we face our 5th ART treatment pretty much around the corner, I’ll not start this year like I always do and state this this year WILL be our year.  What I will say is that I pray that each and every person who reads here gets blessed in ways they never thought possible and that all their hopes and dreams be fulfilled.  I pray that each and every person who reads here has peace and joy in their hearts and that life for each and every one of you is healthy, wealthy and just damn fine.

Here’s to a great 2010 – in whatever shape or form that happens to manifest itself.