August has been full on.

There are some things about August though,

that you should know.

In August the small sausage dog came off cage rest.

His hips and pelvis healed well and he went back to chasing kids around the yard and chewing up anything he could find.

He doesn’t like cars anymore.

In August

this good looking guy  won a $200 spending spree after one of his photos was chosen for a promotion nation wide, at Gumboots.

If he had his way he would have spent all of it on cowboy hats and yellow rimmed John Lennon sunnies.

He enjoyed being the centre of attention.

He ended up buying things for his sisters too.

I smiled alot that day.

In August we received a surprise package from Natalie at Moederkip.

She has a program called under the wing.

The lovely Kim was involved.

It brought sunshine to our rainy day.

Our parcel included a beautiful green coat for Noah

and a stunning red riding hood cape for Ivy.

In August, Immy and Maddy were in a school musical.

Its performances fell exactly when Ivy found herself back in the hospital

and I thought that we would have to miss it.

The girls were devastated and angry

but the nurses pulled every string they could,

juggled medications and consultations

and managed to give Ivy and I two hours gate leave to go home and see the show.

The performance was fabulous

but the best moment was

when the girls saw that Ivy and I were in the audience,

their smiles lit up the whole hall.

The girls made the nurses their “to die for” caramel slice and equally decadent brownies

to say thanks.

In August we met some amazing young people, who donate blood on a regular basis.

I was in awe of their selflessness.

I told them about Ivy and how much they were helping.

We were in the newspaper

and on the radio

and I felt thankful for the positives that I could find.

August saw Lily off to the Gifted and Talented camp.

She struggled to find her feet.

She stepped out of her comfort zone.

She learnt alot.

I was proud of her (I always am).

August has been very full on.

There have been lots of bad days, yes

but

there have been lots of good days too.

There have been day trips,

night trips,

trips to the hospital.

New friends, old friends

and lots of wonderful opportunities.

Times when I have felt so very alone

and times when I have felt carried.

and I am grateful for every single day,

all that I learn,

every chance to grow

and the amazing people I meet along the way.

I am thankful for the journey.

“She’s good”, I said when he asked,

although he really had no idea because he had not been there for most of the last month.

Or the month before ;

could not comprehend what we had been through.

He had come once, after surgery but she was still groggy

so, she wouldn’t count that

and  frankly, neither would I.

He took the  stethoscope from around his neck.

“How have you been, princess?” he asked

but she would not look at him.

Instead she looked downwards

and turned her back to him

and then climbed into my lap.

I stood up and held her.

She squeezed so tightly.

“It’s okay” I crooned, “you know the paed, you know him”.

He worked quickly then, checked her over.

Still she would not acknowledge him,

her face giving nothing and everything away.

Angry.

Jaded

and maybe a little weary of him too -

she had lost her trust, her faith,

he had lost his rapport

and he knew it.

The paed had always been a ’safe’ person for Ivy.

He was always someone who made her feel ‘better’

but he had not been there for her this time,

when she needed him,

when she was scared,

when she felt awful.

He let her down.

He tried all of his usual charming tricks, he said all of the right things

but the girl did not budge.

Her face remained sullen, her eyes cast to the ground.

I can’t help feeling that maybe, just maybe

he deserved it.

It arrives in the mail, a small envelope, with the hospital logo on the front

and inside

the PICC repair kit that should have come home with the girl.

Useless now that the new port is in, I set it aside.

“What’s that, Mummy?” Ivy asks as I wander through the house

and I tell her.

She seems pleased that someone has thought to send her this bundle of plastic.

I think nothing more of it and start on the laundry.

The background noise suddenly becomes urgent and cranky

and I hear him stomp into the room, tearful and cross, he berates me with questions .

“How come Ivy gets all the presents?”

“Why can’t I have a PICC line repair kit,

I want a PICC line repair kit too”.

He is crying now.

He feels that he has been given the bad end of this deal.

I pull him close.

“Our friends send you gifts too, Noah, you know that” I respond

but he cries harder.

It is difficult for him to understand.

I try to tell him that Ivy would trade every material thing she owns for not having to have needles.

I try to tell him that being healthy is better than anything else

but he is four (almost five)

and he takes his health for granted.

He expects nothing less.

It’s the way it should be.

He swipes the angry tears away

after I tell him that to have a PICC line repair kit

it will mean having to have a PICC line put into his arm.

Does he want that?

No,

he shakes his head silently.

Solemnly.

Ivy has been listening too

She is crying now

because we have only,

days before,

finished a conversation about how she will always need the IVIG,

always need to have the port and medicine and  the hospital

and how without those things

she would not be able to go to dancing or to pre school or do any of the things she loves.

I hug them both and soothe them.

These are hard life lessons and

not your average ones, at that.

Just

normal for us.

I ask them;

“can you give each other a hug?”

“try to understand how each other feels”.

“I’m sorry”, Ivy says, “that you think I get more than you”.

“I’m sorry,” Noah says “that you are not the lucky one”.

They hug and hold hands.

The fight forgotten

but not by me.

I think I will remember it forever.

The weekend sun has disappeared.

It’s raining again.

What better way to pass the time when you’re almost five and stuck inside?

Why, “fairy playdough glitter cats”, of course.

A whole family of them.

They’re magic, you know.

What did you do today?