Easy Rider

His name is Tim. He’s British. Very polite. A little serious perhaps but so patient. He puts up with my occasional silliness even when I affectionately refer to him as Timmy, mimicking his “Southpark” character namesake (you know…Little handicapped Timmy). I don’t always listen to him though, but hey…That’s my prerogative as a woman. My parents appreciate him although it wasn’t always like this. Dad got jealous of the attention Tim was getting. Mom too had her doubts in the beginning and suggested I go out with American Sean. But Tim eventually won them over with his deep and soothing voice…Yep…Tim is my Personal Navigator…TomTomTim.

Tim and I are thick as thieves.Where ever I go, Tim tags along in my rented Fiat Punto. In the early days of my driving career (last month), it would get rather loud in the car. Both Mom and Dad liked to “instruct” me…Simultaneously on my driving. It became particularly counter productive when parking the car:

Mom: “Turn the wheel to the right. Wait! There’s a car coming behind us!”

Dad: “LEFT, LEFT, RADRIZZA (straighten), STOP!”

Tim: “You have reached your destination…”

Inevitably, Mom would argue with Dad about his instructions or his tone: “Roc…you’re making her nervous…Stop shouting!” To which Dad would respond: “I’M NOT SHOUTING. I’M RAISING MY VOICE OR ELSE WE’LL CRASH!” Adding to this cacophony, he’d unbuckle his seat belt which would activate a repetitive high pitched beeping sound.

At this point, my palms would get very moist and a sheen of perspiration would glisten on my forehead ( I refuse to sweat). My throat would get dry and in an advanced stage of delirium, a mirage would form in my mind. An Oasis of tall imaginary, seductive Gin & Tonic’s (Bombay Sapphire to be specific) would suddenly dangle before me. I could see myself lunging for this haven of Serenity, always just beyond my reach. In these ever increasing lapses of concentration, the car engine would shut down thus triggering yet another round of vocal parental “instructions”.

It was around that time that Mara started eating again. It almost happened over night. No more bullying her to eat. No more coaxing, pleading, tricking, ordering her to take a few more bites. She just did. When people enquire about her, I say she’s doing well and I literally knock wood. A silly superstition I know…but I can’t help it. And when there’s no wood to be found, I unconsciously tap my head. A peculiar yet frequent sighting for passers-by.

It was also around this time that Mara’s Obsession with Diamonds and Gold began. “Because”, said she while happily googling through numerous jewelry websites, “Diamonds and Gold are forever. THEY never get sick…”

P.s: SouthPark Timmy: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ThtQTIK3UFw

Fri the 6th of Nov – One Year Anniversary

Today, exactly one year ago, Mara was diagnosed with Leukemia. While this date doesn’t particularly call for a celebration, it certainly merits recognition for having altered the course of our lives.

The vivid memory of that evening still brings back shivers. I was sharing a taxi with two colleagues on our way to a restaurant when Mara called. She sounded cheerful and asked if I wanted to join Richard and her for dinner. For a split second my gut warned me something was wrong. Probably something in the forced nature of her tone set off my intuitive alarm. I believe we all have the ability to instinctively pick up on subconscious messages but years of training our minds to listen to reason over feeling command us to ignore these signs. Naturally, I suppressed the feeling and blew Mara off since I already had dinner plans. She became more insistent and suggested we have pre-dinner drinks instead. The flashing gut “Warning” signs were getting brighter by the second and I then knew it had something to do with the results of the blood test conducted the day before. It started a couple of weeks ago with a swollen cheek that just wouldn’t abate. Mar thought it was a gum infection but an earlier visit to the dentist revealed nothing serious. Thankfully her GP had the presence of mind to run some blood tests and the rest is pretty much history.

When I quizzed her about it over the phone, she wouldn’t give me a straight answer. Afterwards, I’d find out that Mar’s situation was so critical she needed immediate hospitalization. But my beautiful sister didn’t want to alarm me and just wanted one last “normal” dinner before being admitted that same evening. I got to the restaurant earlier and anxiously waited for Richard and Mar to arrive. When I finally saw them, through the restaurant windows, slowly approaching arm in arm, while Richard seemed to give her some words of encouragement, I felt the ground under my feet opening and me sinking into a very dark suffocatingly deep hole. When she told me, I managed to stay calm taking in every word. My appetite had completely gone but in some pretense to normality, I ordered the tomato soup. The good news, Mar said, was that her form of leukemia wasn’t chronic and that it was treatable…Woohooo….

Later that night, Richard, Mara and I presented ourselves on the 6^th floor of the OLVG hospital. We were met by Hans, the nurse on duty. He was incredibly understanding and answered most of our pressing questions. The room was grim and even though Mara put up her bravest front, I just couldn’t leave my big sister behind in that depressing place. Hans allowed me to stay the night and I’d end up staying the first week. I remember trying to keep things light and jokingly warned Hans that Mara would need her usual morning “Late” (coffie verkeerd for the Dutchies) to get her going. We hardly slept, huddled against each other, absorbing the magnitude of it all, terrified of what lay ahead. It was a very welcome surprise when early the following morning, Hans actually indulged Mar’s addiction with a delicious, steaming hot Late.

Mara celebrated her Birthday last week, on the 29^th of October. Her exact words were: “I’m 35…Yay….I made it!”