Heart Attack or Covid????

I had my first covid symptoms two weeks ago (to the day). It was the end of my work day, my throat was on fire and I was exhausted. I tested positive the following morning, and Shaun and I started our 10 days of isolation. Days 1 to 8 went by quite quickly - I displayed mostly minor symptoms. Then day 9 happened.... 

At 15h21 on day 9 my friend Lana called. She had returned from abroad, and we had a little catch up session. While chatting to her I had an episode of some sort. I still cannot describe what happened - just am not able to put into words what I felt. It felt like a panic attack of sorts, or like something had gone very wrong in the inner workings of my body, like my head and chest were about to explode, like I was going to cry and vomit, like my entire body was in pain, like my body was going to stop working. All of these, and more. 

Shaun did not know what to do, and I screamed and swore at him in my panic. He called an ambulance. While waiting for the ambulance (they took FOREVER), and once the initial symptoms had decreased slightly in their intensity, Shaun helped me down the stairs to the bathroom, and then into the guest bedroom closest to the front door. The paramedics arrived, took my vitals (they were all normal), and told me that they believed it was a heart attack. My heart, soul, spirit and courage had been knocked out of me in one sentence. In 2009 a defective heart nearly killed me, so I believed they were right. After telling me I would be put into a Covid ward at hospital, I decided to stay at home. The last thing I wanted after a heart attack was to be reinfected with a different Covid strain. 

We started informing family and friends that we thought I had had a heart attack, but that I was okay at home. Our friend Julie was not having it, and sent me off to the ER. Shaun drove me to the ER where they did an ECG, revealing that I had not had a heart attack at all. My vitals were all normal, they gave me 2 Valiums and sent me home. At this stage, the symptoms had decreased in their intensity, but they were still very present. 

We got back home a few mins before the 10pm curfew. We have 2 cats. When we arrived home, Einstein was waiting at the door, but Kitsy was nowhere to be found, and she did not respond when we called her. We found her on the bed where the paramedics had seen me. She wouldn't get up. I put my hand on her to show her that her Daddy was okay. I spoke to her, caressed her. She looked at me with doe eyes, and I lied down next to her. Kitsy took my hand, held onto it tightly with both her paws, and looked straight into my eyes. She wouldn't allow anything to distract her, not even Einstein climbing over the 2 of us. I don't know how long we stayed in this position, but it was a long while before she let me go.

We went to bed, and by that time the Valiums had already taken effect and I fell asleep almost immediately. I had the most terrible dreams. Dreams where I was fully aware of what was happening around me in our bedroom, I knew I was dreaming, but couldn't wake up. Shaun got up during the night to check my vitals. I felt him doing this while dreaming, but couldn't wake up. At one stage my convulsions woke him and he rubbed my back. His touch stopped the body shakes, but not the dreams. When the first dream ended, I couldn't breathe, and neither could Kitsy. She was sleeping on me, and when I choked and was unable to breathe, she choked too, jumped off the bed, coughed a few times, then recovered. I heard all of this while I was sleeping. 

The dream was like a TV without an aerial auto searching for channels. I saw scenes from my life move across my vision so fast, accompanied by the feelings associated with them, causing convulsions. After Kitsy left I knew I was dying, and I just wanted it to end. I don't remember my next dream, but I remember preparing myself for death. Worrying about how Shaun would react to waking next to my corpse. 

When our daily 5am alarm went off I was happy. Happy that I'd die with Shaun and we'd get to say goodbye. Shaun woke up and I told him I was going soon, and that he had to hold me. He did. I didn't go though. 

We tried to call the ambulance but there was no answer, so Shaun took me back to the ER. Once there, the same doctor saw me, told me my vitals were still normal and that I could go home. I refused, and told him to check me into the COVID ward. 

When I started writing this I didn't realise how long it would be. I'll continue the story soon, still lots more to tell...

Patrick MacMinn - In loving memory

My dad was an Anglican priest when I was growing up. He only got his calling when he was in his late thirties, which meant that we moved around quite a bit when I was in primary school, and I often had to change schools.

We moved to Mitchell's Plain when I was 10 (Standard 4, 1989). I met Patrick at my new school. I always had trouble making friends when I changed schools. One month after starting at Parkhurst Primary, a week before my eleventh birthday, Patrick and I bunked a tennis lesson together. That tennis lesson was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

We lost contact in high school (Patrick had made some new friends), but in our matric year Patrick tracked me down. We met at Westgate Mall, and it was as if we had just seen each other the day before. Both of us were still in the closet, but we were not in the closet to each other. We didn't even come out to each other, we were just ourselves naturally. We spent the next few years together - we saw each other everyday, and when we weren't with each other, we were on the phone together.

When I went into my first serious relationship, he was the one who told me straight away that the guy was bad for me. He was right, even though it took me twelve years to realise that he was. When I was getting to know my husband, Patrick was the person I called and visited to discuss the difficult decisions I had to make. My marriage to Shaun gave Patrick so much joy. 

Patrick knew all my secrets - he was the only person I trusted for years and years with my most painful and embarrassing secrets. Through the years we often lost touch, but not for long. We couldn't stay away from each other for long.

Patrick became more and more reclusive from about his 30th year. This led to fear of the unknown - the unknown was anything outside of his house. It should have put a strain on our relationship, but we had too much love for each other to allow anything to put a strain on it. I visited him at home, and we had WhatsApp conversations that would go on for hours.

Despite his fear, Patrick was a fiercely loyal and loving friend. There was nothing I could tell him that would lead to judgement of any sort. He was always in my corner, and loved me with his entire being. I once ended up in the emergency room with heart failure. Patrick had a panic attack when he found out about this. 

In the last year we lost touch again. My stubbornness made me wait for him to make contact because I was the one who made contact more often, and it was his turn...

Patrick made contact today. 

No. 

Omar, his life partner, made contact today. My best friend died an hour ago. I allowed my stubbornness to take away a year I could have spent with him. I'm heartbroken. I don't even know what happened and how he died. I am so sorry Patrick. 

In loving memory of my friend

(Kiaan) Patric MacMinn

27th October 1977 - 7th July 2020

Know that you are loved!

I am so sorry that I only did this now. You so much wanted me to dedicate ONE BLOG POST to you. I am devastated that I did it one hour too late. I will always love you Patrick.

Life Skills - Sjoe!

I haven't blogged in years now, but I have always found blogging very therapeutic.

I find myself at a Life Skills Clinic this morning. After a few panic attacks, a lovely doctor in an emergency room had me checked into here. I had never heard of one of these places before. I did not know they existed. I've heard of people going to clinic for stress, but had no idea.

So it's a very cheerful place. Lots of light, huge bedrooms and bathrooms, all the privacy we need. Medication is administered on time, so we don't even need to think of that. Lots of friendly staff and patients, and amazing food.

Alot of free time. I go through life with a nervous knot in my tummy. It is always there. I fear new experiences - I love travelling for example, but always want to cancel the trip the day before.

This morning I have nothing to worry about, nothing at all. All my needs are taken care of. But you know what? I have a nervous knot in my stomach. I am also terrified. I don't know if it's the impending group therapy session? Or fear of my responsibilities for this week? But I'm scared.

That's it for today. I'll keep writing while I'm here. Iove to share.

Almal wil 'n huisie by die see he

The Afrikaans song 'Almal wil 'n huisie by die see he' has been playing over and over in my head for the last two months.

Shaun and I have been house-hunting for the last five years. Yes, you heard correctly - 5 years! Five years of getting our hopes up and having them shattered by dishonest estate agents. Five years of getting our friends and families excited, and having to bear the horrible news that the deal fell through - AGAIN! Five years of feeling like a failure, because I couldn't make this happen...

It was absolutely awful. I do not understand why we place so much pressure on ourselves to live up to the expectations that we THINK society places on us. Nobody was disappointed in me because I didn't own a house. Nobody felt that I was less of a man because of it. Yet I carried that burden that I had placed on myself. A HEAVY burden. I would continue with this thought, and I will in another blog post soon, but not today. For today, A HEAVY BURDEN will suffice. But that is not what I want to talk about today...

So my story starts some time in mid-March of this year. After many late nights of looking for property online, Shaun and I decided we would have to widen our choice of suburbs in our search for the perfect property for our family of four (Jeremy, Shaun, Kitsy and Einstein). We called a few agents, and set up about 4 viewings for potential properties.

The first property we viewed was a lot more expensive than what we could afford, but we viewed it anyway. It was a lovely home with unlimited potential in a great area. We had our reservations about the place, and knew it was too expensive. It offered more than we needed, so we decided to move on.

We then set up 3 appointments with 3 different agents 3 days in a row - all in the same area. Each of these agents gave us trouble with our appointments. They struggled to set up viewings, and then kept moving our times. We did not realise at the time that all three properties were in the same security complex, and that security was so tight in the complex that estate agents had a difficult time arranging viewings. After our horrible experiences in the past, we were scared. There was one agent who stood out though: a smooth-talking guy named Meredith who I dealt with. For some reason Meredith earned my trust, but not Shaun's. I called him once on the car's speaker phone while Shaun was with me. Shaun listened to Meredith apologise for cancelling another appointment, while working his charm and making promises. When he hung up, Shaun said he was lying. He went on to say he sounded just like all the others. I listened, waited a few moments and told Shaun I trust him. Shaun told me he didn't want me to get my hopes up and get hurt yet again.

Meredith came through, and on the 28th March he showed us a duplex on the beachfront in Capricorn (Muizenberg). The condition of the place was not good. There had been tenants in the duplex for YEARS. It looked horrible. I walked through the house with Shaun. The back doors could not open. There was no key. The garage door could not open for the same reason. The bathroom window could not close. The light fittings were rusty and had 8 years of accumulated dirt on them. The curtain rails were rusty. The walls were drilled full of holes. The stove was rusted. There were holes in the melamine counter. The kitchen cupboards had water damage. The roof had leaked at some stage and the cornice had never been repaired...

We walked through the mess in silence, both of us afraid to like it in case the other didn't. Equally afraid to make the agent feel too confident about a sale. We pointed out the faults to each other and the agent, and commented continually about how small the house was. We thanked the agent and walked back to the car, each of us searching the other's face for a hint of his thoughts. Once we had driven around the corner, we both smiled. Despite the mess, it was home for us both immediately. No reservations whatsoever. Fear that we would not have the resources to fix it up, but an utter certainty that this was set out for our family.

Shaun was right. I had given up on finding a property 9 months earlier. I told him I was finished, that we would rent forever, that I could not cope with the disappointment of this process anymore. He reminded me that everything happens for a reason, and that we would find our home when the time was right. I told him we was wrong. Shaun was right.

We moved in on 24th June. A friend from church, 2 work colleagues, another guy, 2 bakkies, a trailer, an old Mercedes-Benz and I trekked down the M5....twice.... Shaun had to MARK! We got everything into the garage.

About 20 minutes after we had gotten everything in, Auntie Yvonne, Lynne and Celeste arrived with supper. They visited for a few hours. It was awesome. We unpacked, tried to settle the cats unsuccessfully, and went to sleep. The following morning, we woke up to this:

Yes mense, that's the view from our balcony. We are truly blessed.

38 today

It's my 38th birthday today. The day is almost over, but I want to record my memories before I forget.

Shaun is away, and has been since January. I knew he'd be away for my birthday, so I made no official plans for the day - I just knew it would be terrible without him. It wasn't.

My birthday celebration started 4 days ago: Mommy (my mom-in-law) flew me to Kimberley for the weekend so that Shaun and I could spend some time together. We stayed with our cousins Morgan and Hannie, who welcomed us into their home and their hearts. They took me to The Big Hole and we played Uno Extreme (I MUST buy this game). Since I've lost 15kg (YAY), all my pants are too big, and Shaun decided to remedy this. He took me clothing shopping. We visited every clothing store in the mall, but I found nothing I wanted. I then started looking at silver bracelets - I bought one in Mauritius that I really liked, but it broke a few years ago. This was also unsuccesful. We continued browsing, until I realised what I really wanted - a silver cross. Our spiritual journey is becoming really important to us both, and I finally want a crucifix of my own. I chose a silver cross with a black stone in the centre, the arms of the cross are little fish with crystals, on a black chain.

Thank you Shaun.

I was up late last night (1am) marking. When I finally got to bed, I was so worried that I would only have 5 hours of sleep. When my alarm woke me after 5 hours I was not in a great mood, but then Shaun phoned a few minutes after I woke. I was barely finished speaking with him when Mommy and Daddy (in-law) called. By the time I ended the phone call, my inbox and Facebook were full of birthday wishes - and these just kept on coming.

I arrived at school later than usual. As I left my car and headed for the building, I saw Heloise (one of my colleagues) standing there. She had already been to my class to look for me, and continued her search. I was greeted and wished with coffee and a happy birthday video clip - and a very special hug.

While walking to my classroom, I heard "Happy Birthday Sir" echoing in the passages, and while I was unlocking my door the "Happy Birthday" song was sung. Throughout the day, kids stuck their heads into my room to wish me well.

I am a Home Room Tutor (register teacher) at my school. I unlocked my homeroom at 8am to take register, but there was only one child waiting for me. The two of us entered and started talking to each other - wondering if we had missed a memo of sorts. One more boy arrived. At about 8:06, I heard "Happy Birthday" coming down the passage. My homeroom kids made me a card and all of them wrote in it. They also had balloons that they had written messages on. It was 08:06.

My phone NEVER STOPPED vibrating all day - in fact, it just vibrated again...

Robyn (one of our daughters) came to visit at 10h30 - and she left at 19h00. She spent the entire day with me: observing quietly while I was teaching, and taking over Cabaret rehearsals when kids were not performing well. They are so scared of her! She left briefly, but I will explain why in a bit.

I had a good day at school. At 4pm, my Cabaret rehearsal started. Robyn returned at around 5pm with a box. When I opened it I knew that it was from Shaun (remember, he's in Kimberley). At the same time it arrived, he messaged me saying: "...everybody should get to eat cake on their birthday. It's a banting cake, by the way..."

I should have taken a pic BEFORE we started eating it.

After the rehearsal, I went back to my classroom to pack up my things and go home. As I was about to leave, Ronel (another colleague, and one of my friends for YEARS now) said she wanted to take me out for dinner. Ronel, her daughter Nobuhle and I went to Cavendish Square. When we got there, Nobuhle went straight to Simply Asia. I have known Nobuhle since Ronel was pregnant with her, and I can't deny her much: it had to be Simply Asia. Dinner was lovely, company was great, and it was a fitting end to a surprisingly beautiful birthday.

People have been sending me messages all day. I feel so loved and special. It is 11:09pm, and 2 more just came through. I want to end this blog with my 3 favourite messages of the day:

1. For those of you who have seen my tattoo, you will know how special this pic that Shaun sent me is:

2. Robyn (older daughter) and I never EVER get emotional about each other, or share our feelings with each other. When I read this post (during a Cabaret rehearsal nogal), I thanked God for the dark auditorium that prevented the kids from seeing my tears.

3. Cindy (younger daughter) followed with this - she was not going to be outdone by Robyn! I love these girls.

I am blessed! I wish I could continue writing and tell you about the messages my choir members sent me, wishes from Waterfront Theatre School graduates, or the phone call from Mamma en Pappa, the great rehearsal I had with the kids, dinner with Mel last night, chatting to Maria...

If there's one thing I was reminded of today, it is that I am LOVED! If wealth was measured on how much we love, or are loved, then I am an extremely wealthy man.

Thank you to everyone who helps to make my life beautiful.

I can't stop smiling - my last phone call (I think it'll be my last) of the day was from my brother George about five minutes ago...

bAnTiNg

Yes people, I am BANTING! I have always laughed at the banters and said I will never ever go there. It turns out I lied...

In the latter half of 2015, a parent of one of the girls at my school came to see me. The girl was leaving the school, and the father came to ask about musical activities and theatrical opportunities his daughter could participate in in the outside world. When he knocked on my door, I didn't recognise him. I noticed his daughter behind him and realised that this slim healthy looking man was the same one I had seen two years earlier at least thirty kilograms heavier. After helping him as much as I could, I asked how he had lost so much weight. His response was: I'll tell you, but you're not going to like it. Banting.

His was the second transformation I had seen in a very short time. I made a mental note that I had to check out this banting thing properly, but I forgot.

We go to Goudini with my in-laws every year during the December holidays. I do not like t-shirts, but I own a couple for times like our Goudini holiday. While at Goudini, I dug out some t-shirts that I had not worn in months. When I put them on, I realised for the first time in my life that I was one of those uncles whose tummy hangs out of the bottom of his t-shirt. I had never been that uncle before! When did I get that big, and how had I not noticed? Shaun responded in the most loving way (as usual) reminding me that I am beautiful. He then took me to the mall to get longer t-shirts so that I would feel comfortable while we were on holiday. When we got back to the chalet I took out his tablet, logged on to takealot.com and ordered the Tim Noakes banting book.

We came back to Cape Town on the second of January, and my book arrived on the fourth. I started reading and shopping, but knew I would have to wait until the eighth of January to start banting. My dad's birthday was on the 7th, and I was going to be at that party.

I started on January eighth, and the first twelve days were HELL! I had diarrhoea for ten days, had two fevers within that time, my mouth tasted like a rat had died in it, I was exhausted all the time and I had a headache that no tablet could soothe. I was so worried that this eating plan would kill me! I searched online for people who had had a similar experience, and everyone was just on about Oh I felt so amazing, My IBS completely disappeared, I have so much energy, My piles just vanished... I felt like the Grim Reaper himself was standing at my bed. My body went into shock on day 8 and I ended up in the emergency room! 

I searched through my friends on Facebook who were part of a banting group and found one (who looks amazing by the way). She was a student of mine once. I asked her about how the first week was for her, and she confirmed it was horrible. I then inboxed the Banting Support Group on Facebook; they replied within an hour telling me this was normal for some people. By this time Shaun was also saying Maybe this diet isn't for you. He was so worried, that he would not leave me alone for a second when I came home from school in the afternoon. The message from the support group was very encouraging, and I decided I would do fourteen days before I gave up on this diet that was obviously gonna kill me.

My tummy started to settle on Day eleven (but was still crappy for at least another week). The headaches stopped 'round day twelve, and my second fever went away by day nine. I still felt tired though, as I entered week three. From week three on....

Today is our one month anniversary: Banting and Jeremy. We had a rocky start, but right now I feel great. I realised in the last week or two that I'm not really tired during the day anymore, my IBS has almost completely disappeared (it improves daily), I sleep through the night, I don't sweat half as much as I used to, and I just feel happier. Still waiting for that feeling lighter on your feet sensation - can't wait to feel that. It feels like this will actually work for me, and I am super excited.

For those of you still laughing at us banters: I don't mind that you laugh, or that you think it is silly. I just have one request: please stop asking us whether we are going to eat like this for the rest of our lives, and commenting that it is way too much sacrifice. It is not easy to lose weight (I have been on diets since I was 10). It is not easy to get to the point where you believe that your health and your shattered self-image are worth the effort. 

Us fatties feel inferior to you guys all day and everyday. We walk in public everyday with our tummies pulled in hoping that nobody notices the sweat on our brow, our soiled shirts, or the funny way we walk because our legs are chaffing. We walk up the stairs, and when we get to the top we are out of breath, but we cannot let on because someone might call us lazy or idle. Once we have dressed, we look in the full length mirror a few times to make sure NO skin is sticking out - God forbid someone should see what we really look like under our clothes.

Asking me whether I am going to eat like this for the rest of my life is destructive. Losing weight is DIFFICULT. V E R Y   D I F F I C U L T. Giving up sugar has been very difficult for me. I don't miss the bread, potatoes and rice. I miss sweet coffee and tea, jelly babies, marshmallows, mebos, fruit... Saying no to sugar everyday is a challenge: when I make my coffee the sugar is right there, and for a month now I have not had any. I believe I can do this for the rest of my life, and you asking this question of me sows a seed of doubt. So please don't.

I'm going to continue banting. I want to be healthy for myself and for Shaun. I don't want to be shy when we go swimming. I don't want to be embarrassed because I feel I'm too fat to go skipping with him. I don't want to be too unfit to go dancing with him. I want us to do everything both of us ever wanted, so I cannot afford to be unhealthy or heavy on my feet. This is exciting, and I believe it's gonna work this time!

So how much weight have I lost in 31 days?
11kg

It Doesn't Matter Where You Are From

My beautiful friend Maria posted this on her facebook wall yesterday:

It's something I've seen before, but never really thought about... 

Shaun and I have been together for nearly five years now! Yet I still find myself looking at my previous relationship: searching for answers. My past often comes up when I have my weekly heart-to-heart chats with my parents. The three of us are constantly looking for answers in my past: answers that might explain the relationships I have had to give up (and my parents too because they love me and support my decisions). There are nights when we can contemplate nothing else. My (very) protective and amazing mother sometimes gets so emotional that Pappa and I steer the conversation in a completely different direction. 

I believe these conversations are necessary not only for myself, but them. They seek closure for the twelve years of my life that I didn't have heart-to-heart conversations with them - well, except for that time I wrote off someone else's car, and that other time when I nearly died from a heart problem. I just want to spend time with my inspirational parents, and make up for the years that I have lost. Time that I gave up willingly, and without a fight. That is the past...

...all that matters is where you are going...

Since Shaun and I found each other, my life is going in a whole different direction. We are (slowly but surely) building a future (that neither of us thought was possible) along with our parents. We see my parents more because they live in Cape Town, but when Mummy and Daddy are in town, Mamma and Pappa know where we will be. We watch (and admire) each other's growth professionally, and are both amazed at the way other people tell us that they are inspired by us. Old friendships, new friendships, re-kindled friendships, our children and a kick-ass choir keep us busy on the personal front.

One of the most special parts of our relationship is that we are growing together spiritually. Both of us are Christians and decided it was important to worship together. Shaun came over to the Anglican church. Don't get me wrong, we don't always agree on our interpretation of the bible, but we are figuring it out together. We have found a spiritual home at Christ Church Constantia: a Christian community that loves us as a unit. There was a moment at church last year that I will never forget, and that I am eternally grateful for. Sunday 13th July 2014 at the end of the 9:15 service: we had gotten married on the 5th July, and only informed everybody of our union on the 6th July. When we went back to church for the first time on the 13th, the leadership congratulated us and presented us with a wedding gift during the mass. WOW!

To (try and) summarise my thoughts this morning: both Shaun and I have made many mistakes in our past. Not just little things, but BIG OBVIOUS wrongs that the whole world knew was JUST WRONG from the moment we started them. Justifying bad decisions is just futile - yet it is something we all do. Rather than put it down as silliness, we explain our state of mind and situation at the time to everybody that will lend us an ear.

It doesn't matter where you are coming from; all that matters is where you are going.

To me, this doesn't mean that we must forget the past, or never speak about it. Sometimes we pretend that the past never happened. When we do this, it often comes back to bite us in the @*$%. There are lessons for us all to learn from our pasts. The necessary change is just a little adjustment: turn your focus away from the path you have walked, and focus on the path that lies ahead.