Today I went to the Tropical Fish Store where I bought Maxie. I told a young lady about Maxie's conditions, and described his behavior and appearance. She questioned me for a quite a long while - an interview on my care of Maxie.
Is the water heated? How often do I change it? What do I clean the bowl with? How much water do I leave in the bowl? Do I have gravel in the bowl? Do I check the acid content? I answered, as they say, to the best of my knowledge, but with each question I began feeling more and more guilty of neglect, mishandling, abuse.She also asked about Max's age so I told her two years, and, trying to make her feel a bit guilty also, informed her that I bought Maxie from their store, but he hadn't come with a birth certificate, so his real age is unknown. She shrugged that off and said two years is a good age. Betta fish, she informed me, are inbred and so suffer from genetic mutations! Without seeing Max she can't say exactly what he has.
Eventually I left the store having spent $24.11 for mineral salts, some kind of drops which apparently may help, and a thermometer. I had a heater I had never used for fear of boiling Max. I promised I would heat his little home. She said he may improve within three days - on the other hand,he may not. Whatever, I should return in three days to report on his condition.
I have scrupulously followed her instructions, and will let her and you all know in three days how little Max is faring.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Maxie
I returned from a glorious time friendwise, weatherwise, and otherwise in New Orleans very very late Monday night. As soon as I entered I greeted Max, my little Piscean companion, who normally greets me by coming to the side of the bowl,undulating happily (or so I imagine - the happy part, that is.) This time I had to look for him amongst the artificial fronds and leaves. He seemed to be resting amongst the plants. I tapped the bowl, called his name, but there was no response. Of course I was alarmed. I did notice slight movement in his fins, so I knew the worst had not happened. After quite a while I observed him trying to come to the surface, then sinking down. He attempted to come to the surface several times, then eventually I saw him inhale some air and then, shockingly, he sank down, belly up! He remained like this, not moving at all. I tried praying, still no life. Then I wondered how to dispose of him, in a dignified fashion. I even said Kaddish for him. I was exhausted after a long day of airport 'hopping' and flight delays. I thought he could remain in the water until the following morning, besides, I couldn't deal with removing him.
The next morning I saw he had moved, and was no longer belly up. He had almost propped himself on one of the plant leaves. I gave him his food, but he ignored it. I called my neighbour who cared for Max in my absence. She immediately said that he hadn't eaten the whole weekend, and said that he does not look well. This pattern has continued until today. I thought that either he is too cold and is hibernating, so to speak, or that he is getting old. He has been with me for two years, and I don't know how old he was when I bought him. One of my patient's moms gave me two books on bettas today when I told her of my concerns. I looked at The Guide to Owning Siamese Fighting Fish, subheading, care, breeding, combat raising, varieties, diseases - that is what I needed, diseases. After careful observation of Maxie he appears to still have good coloring, and there are no signs of fungal infections, fin rotting, swelling, or popped eyes. All signs point to Maxie as having swim-bladder trouble, and there is no cure! Infrequently, apparently, a fish can come out of this condition spontaneously, so I am praying for Maxie's recovery, and ask all of you to keep little Maxie in your thoughts.
The next morning I saw he had moved, and was no longer belly up. He had almost propped himself on one of the plant leaves. I gave him his food, but he ignored it. I called my neighbour who cared for Max in my absence. She immediately said that he hadn't eaten the whole weekend, and said that he does not look well. This pattern has continued until today. I thought that either he is too cold and is hibernating, so to speak, or that he is getting old. He has been with me for two years, and I don't know how old he was when I bought him. One of my patient's moms gave me two books on bettas today when I told her of my concerns. I looked at The Guide to Owning Siamese Fighting Fish, subheading, care, breeding, combat raising, varieties, diseases - that is what I needed, diseases. After careful observation of Maxie he appears to still have good coloring, and there are no signs of fungal infections, fin rotting, swelling, or popped eyes. All signs point to Maxie as having swim-bladder trouble, and there is no cure! Infrequently, apparently, a fish can come out of this condition spontaneously, so I am praying for Maxie's recovery, and ask all of you to keep little Maxie in your thoughts.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Friends
Without hesitation I would say that my friendships are the most important aspect of my life.
I grew up with a group of girls (The Great Girls Gang). Our friendship began for some of us, in kindergarten. We were carpooled to Temple Shalom. The others from the Gang we met in Grade 1. We remained friends from then on. There was a core group of us - we would meet at school, and play in each others' homes after school and on weekends. We formed the Great Girls Gang and we met in the shed in Sandy's garden. We painted the shed and made curtains, and gave each other exotic names like Njanga. We took minutes of our meetings. What exactly we met about I forget now. We remained together throughout our school years. When we began having boyfriends we always had a cardinal rule - never to go out with another's boyfriend after a break up. Our friendship was always paramount, and so we remained friends ... forever.
After Matric we went our separate ways, to University, traveling. We married, had children, went to live in far away countries, but always kept in touch. The moment I heard my husband was killed my friends were there for me, they reached over continents sending telegrams, and phoning. They were always my backbone, my support. We meet over the years, and as soon as we are together the years we have been apart slip away and immediately we carry on just like we did all our lives.
And of course over the years and the countries, new friendships and bonds were formed, but the old ties are forever there. We meet ... in South Africa, in London, in Israel, and now ... on Skype.
Why this entry? Because this weekend I am going to meet one of these friends, and her husband and son, in New Orleans. And I am so excited. She is a professor of English literature at Wits University in Johannesburg and will be presenting at a conference in New Orleans. Her husband survived a horrendous accident in South Africa last year, and he will accompany her. Their son lives in LA and he will be meeting us all. The last time I saw them was five years ago, in South Africa.
So ---- here is to friends, and to reunions, to love that abides and sustains.
I grew up with a group of girls (The Great Girls Gang). Our friendship began for some of us, in kindergarten. We were carpooled to Temple Shalom. The others from the Gang we met in Grade 1. We remained friends from then on. There was a core group of us - we would meet at school, and play in each others' homes after school and on weekends. We formed the Great Girls Gang and we met in the shed in Sandy's garden. We painted the shed and made curtains, and gave each other exotic names like Njanga. We took minutes of our meetings. What exactly we met about I forget now. We remained together throughout our school years. When we began having boyfriends we always had a cardinal rule - never to go out with another's boyfriend after a break up. Our friendship was always paramount, and so we remained friends ... forever.
After Matric we went our separate ways, to University, traveling. We married, had children, went to live in far away countries, but always kept in touch. The moment I heard my husband was killed my friends were there for me, they reached over continents sending telegrams, and phoning. They were always my backbone, my support. We meet over the years, and as soon as we are together the years we have been apart slip away and immediately we carry on just like we did all our lives.
And of course over the years and the countries, new friendships and bonds were formed, but the old ties are forever there. We meet ... in South Africa, in London, in Israel, and now ... on Skype.
Why this entry? Because this weekend I am going to meet one of these friends, and her husband and son, in New Orleans. And I am so excited. She is a professor of English literature at Wits University in Johannesburg and will be presenting at a conference in New Orleans. Her husband survived a horrendous accident in South Africa last year, and he will accompany her. Their son lives in LA and he will be meeting us all. The last time I saw them was five years ago, in South Africa.
So ---- here is to friends, and to reunions, to love that abides and sustains.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
A Day
A day, and what a day.
My first 'wee one' of the day lives in Point Richmond. They are a Hispanic family. Mom is at home with their son, dad works in construction. When he is not out working he works on their home, which they rent. He has built a deck, painted the home and converted the rickety wooden staircase into an elegant, solid, tiled staircase. They share the home with his brother and his family who also have a young child.
Their son was an 'extreme premie' - born just on the edge of viability, at 23 weeks. His development is quite remarkable considering his fragile and vulnerable beginnings. Mom is very attentive, and has listened to the advice of the therapists and medical professionals. He had pneumonia recently - he is now on antibiotics. Mom and Dad got sick also, but they don't have health insurance, so they didn't go to see anyone. Mom has a nasty cough.
When I arrived, dad and his brother were leaving for work. Mom told me they haven't had any work for the last three weeks because of the weather. No work, no money, and now dad, uncle, and aunt, are all struggling to make their rent payment which is due tomorrow.
On the way to the next family I listened to "This Is Your Call" with Rose Aguilar. The program was on teenage homelessness in California. A young man who was homeless for many years and now works as an outreach coordinator for homeless teenagers spoke, as well as a young woman who works in an agency dealing with the homeless.I can never listen to the entire hour, because I have to go to my next family, and usually 'come in' a little late, and 'leave' halfway through the program. The young people were really articulate and spoke about the shame and fear of being homeless, of trying to keep up a front if they did go to school. Many don't attend school and so drop out of the system.
I reached my next family. I work with their daughter who has Down Syndrome. Dad is there when I go. The parents work at the same factory, mom leaves very early for the morning shift. Dad is with the twin girls, then mom comes home and dad goes to work until late at night. They work very hard indeed.
Two weeks ago dad was very upset when I arrived. A disgruntled worker at the factory had informed immigration services that the factory hires undocumented workers. "La Migra" came to investigate. The owners were fined $50,000 and dad and others lost their jobs. Mom, whose parents brought her here 20 years ago, has been in the lengthy process of applying for papers, so she is still working. Today dad told me that they have been to see an attorney and he has begun the process of gathering all the papers so that he can apply for residency. They bought a home in Richmond in 2005. In 2007 it was appraised at $350,000. He showed me the appraisal forms. The house is now worth $50,000. "Underwater."
Back at the office a director was speaking to a meeting of families of 'consumers' about the upcoming budget cuts. As yet there are no specifics of what will be cut, but she was strongly encouraging the families to 'speak up' - their voices need to be heard.
The future seems dim indeed.
My first 'wee one' of the day lives in Point Richmond. They are a Hispanic family. Mom is at home with their son, dad works in construction. When he is not out working he works on their home, which they rent. He has built a deck, painted the home and converted the rickety wooden staircase into an elegant, solid, tiled staircase. They share the home with his brother and his family who also have a young child.
Their son was an 'extreme premie' - born just on the edge of viability, at 23 weeks. His development is quite remarkable considering his fragile and vulnerable beginnings. Mom is very attentive, and has listened to the advice of the therapists and medical professionals. He had pneumonia recently - he is now on antibiotics. Mom and Dad got sick also, but they don't have health insurance, so they didn't go to see anyone. Mom has a nasty cough.
When I arrived, dad and his brother were leaving for work. Mom told me they haven't had any work for the last three weeks because of the weather. No work, no money, and now dad, uncle, and aunt, are all struggling to make their rent payment which is due tomorrow.
On the way to the next family I listened to "This Is Your Call" with Rose Aguilar. The program was on teenage homelessness in California. A young man who was homeless for many years and now works as an outreach coordinator for homeless teenagers spoke, as well as a young woman who works in an agency dealing with the homeless.I can never listen to the entire hour, because I have to go to my next family, and usually 'come in' a little late, and 'leave' halfway through the program. The young people were really articulate and spoke about the shame and fear of being homeless, of trying to keep up a front if they did go to school. Many don't attend school and so drop out of the system.
I reached my next family. I work with their daughter who has Down Syndrome. Dad is there when I go. The parents work at the same factory, mom leaves very early for the morning shift. Dad is with the twin girls, then mom comes home and dad goes to work until late at night. They work very hard indeed.
Two weeks ago dad was very upset when I arrived. A disgruntled worker at the factory had informed immigration services that the factory hires undocumented workers. "La Migra" came to investigate. The owners were fined $50,000 and dad and others lost their jobs. Mom, whose parents brought her here 20 years ago, has been in the lengthy process of applying for papers, so she is still working. Today dad told me that they have been to see an attorney and he has begun the process of gathering all the papers so that he can apply for residency. They bought a home in Richmond in 2005. In 2007 it was appraised at $350,000. He showed me the appraisal forms. The house is now worth $50,000. "Underwater."
Back at the office a director was speaking to a meeting of families of 'consumers' about the upcoming budget cuts. As yet there are no specifics of what will be cut, but she was strongly encouraging the families to 'speak up' - their voices need to be heard.
The future seems dim indeed.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Life is Strange
Happy New Year!!!! Life, as usual, continues its hurley gurley.
Some interesting updates from work.
Today I had a very good talk with Carmela, the woman I wrote about in my very first blog, "I have a Problem." Her son, who attended our program (and did very well,) turned three today. When I got back from my home visits I went to see him, to wish him happy birthday, and to say goodbye, and good luck. I had just missed them. They came in for the celebration in his honor, then she took him home. I called her and we had a really heartwarming talk. She thanked me for helping so much when he was a baby. Then she invited me to their new home. They moved from North Richmond to an apartment in San Pablo which she says has more room for the family. She has a car again and is in school. She is working three days a week, and she says her life is really good now. Her two daughters are doing very well, as is her son. They are a happy family unit. I told her how much I admire her and what a brave, strong woman, and a good mother she is.
Yesterday I received three new referrals. As usual, I read the paperwork, the names and addresses, evaluations and medical information on the children. The first name of a guardian of a little boy was familiar to me, but the surname wasn't. I called and told the woman who I am and what I do,then I asked whether I knew her.She said "You sure do, you used to work with my little boy who was stabbed to death."
Of course I knew her. This tragic and horrendous event had happened just over six years ago. It had deeply affected everyone involved.
"YOu came to our house, and he loved you so much. You remember when he began the program how he cried and sat on your lap for three hours Then he started doing so well. You know the father, the one who did it, they said he was mentally ill and they sent him to Napa Hospital. Apparently he died there a while ago, he had kidney problems."
"Yes," I replied, my heart pounding, "I remember everything. I remember you were really sick at the time. How are your older son and daughter, I remember them too?
"God has blessed me. I am fine. The cancer is gone. My older son, you remember he was in the home when it happened. He is an alcoholic, and before all that happened he never drank. My daughter is really good, she does still go to therapy, but she is in college now, and working."
I sat there, the phone glued to my ear, my mouth wide open, occasionally exclaiming.
I met a wonderful man, and we got married. We bought a home and I did what I always wanted to, I had a day care in our home. Then Nesta, you will never guess what happened."
I didn't want to guess, I couldn't imagine.
"He had a heart attack and died, in our bedroom. I couldn't help but laugh, it seems like everyone dies in my home. I quit the daycare. But I am strong and God is good. I got a call from my cousin who lives in the midwest. She said her daughter is pregnant and cannot be a mother. She has seizures and takes medication and that will affect the baby, but do you want the baby? I flew there and was there when he was born, and brought him back with me.
Do you remember the other one, how stiff he was? This one is the same, and his leg even turns in like the other one. But he is the sweetest little boy, and now the Lord has sent you back in to our lives. God is good."
Some interesting updates from work.
Today I had a very good talk with Carmela, the woman I wrote about in my very first blog, "I have a Problem." Her son, who attended our program (and did very well,) turned three today. When I got back from my home visits I went to see him, to wish him happy birthday, and to say goodbye, and good luck. I had just missed them. They came in for the celebration in his honor, then she took him home. I called her and we had a really heartwarming talk. She thanked me for helping so much when he was a baby. Then she invited me to their new home. They moved from North Richmond to an apartment in San Pablo which she says has more room for the family. She has a car again and is in school. She is working three days a week, and she says her life is really good now. Her two daughters are doing very well, as is her son. They are a happy family unit. I told her how much I admire her and what a brave, strong woman, and a good mother she is.
Yesterday I received three new referrals. As usual, I read the paperwork, the names and addresses, evaluations and medical information on the children. The first name of a guardian of a little boy was familiar to me, but the surname wasn't. I called and told the woman who I am and what I do,then I asked whether I knew her.She said "You sure do, you used to work with my little boy who was stabbed to death."
Of course I knew her. This tragic and horrendous event had happened just over six years ago. It had deeply affected everyone involved.
"YOu came to our house, and he loved you so much. You remember when he began the program how he cried and sat on your lap for three hours Then he started doing so well. You know the father, the one who did it, they said he was mentally ill and they sent him to Napa Hospital. Apparently he died there a while ago, he had kidney problems."
"Yes," I replied, my heart pounding, "I remember everything. I remember you were really sick at the time. How are your older son and daughter, I remember them too?
"God has blessed me. I am fine. The cancer is gone. My older son, you remember he was in the home when it happened. He is an alcoholic, and before all that happened he never drank. My daughter is really good, she does still go to therapy, but she is in college now, and working."
I sat there, the phone glued to my ear, my mouth wide open, occasionally exclaiming.
I met a wonderful man, and we got married. We bought a home and I did what I always wanted to, I had a day care in our home. Then Nesta, you will never guess what happened."
I didn't want to guess, I couldn't imagine.
"He had a heart attack and died, in our bedroom. I couldn't help but laugh, it seems like everyone dies in my home. I quit the daycare. But I am strong and God is good. I got a call from my cousin who lives in the midwest. She said her daughter is pregnant and cannot be a mother. She has seizures and takes medication and that will affect the baby, but do you want the baby? I flew there and was there when he was born, and brought him back with me.
Do you remember the other one, how stiff he was? This one is the same, and his leg even turns in like the other one. But he is the sweetest little boy, and now the Lord has sent you back in to our lives. God is good."
Friday, December 31, 2010
Happy happy
In South Africa we would hear whistling and drunken shouts of "happy happy" wafting into our homes from the streets on the last day of the year and the very first day of the new year. So I add my very own shouts and whistles, 'happy,happy,'to each and every one of you, my loyal followers and faithful friends. Here's hoping that 2011 will be a year of health and peace, inner, if not outer.
The last week of 2010 has been one of connecting with friends and enjoying all that this breathtakingly beautiful area has to offer.Yesterday a friend and I went to San Francisco via the Richmond/San Rafael Bridge and the Golden Gate Bridge. It was a cold clear winter's day - everything has been washed sparkling by the rains and green abounds. We hiked along Land's End and Ocean Beach. Every time I am in the midst of this beauty and can see Mount Tamalpais, Mount Diablo, the Farallon Islands and see the waves breaking on Baker's Beach I am filled with joy and gratitude that I live in this place. It is with this feeling of gratitude an abundance that I bid farewell to 2010.
Love to you all.
The last week of 2010 has been one of connecting with friends and enjoying all that this breathtakingly beautiful area has to offer.Yesterday a friend and I went to San Francisco via the Richmond/San Rafael Bridge and the Golden Gate Bridge. It was a cold clear winter's day - everything has been washed sparkling by the rains and green abounds. We hiked along Land's End and Ocean Beach. Every time I am in the midst of this beauty and can see Mount Tamalpais, Mount Diablo, the Farallon Islands and see the waves breaking on Baker's Beach I am filled with joy and gratitude that I live in this place. It is with this feeling of gratitude an abundance that I bid farewell to 2010.
Love to you all.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Help
I wrote an article about the India trip which has been published in Namarupa Magazine, and I am trying to copy the article on to my blog but I don't know how. Here is a link and I hope it works. Please let me know. There are some amazing photos taken by my brother, so good luck.
PS as you may see, nothing! Because it is not working. I will ask for help, but will also add this to the writing section in my website, so those who want can access it,eventually. Oh, the woes of the technologically challenged.
PS as you may see, nothing! Because it is not working. I will ask for help, but will also add this to the writing section in my website, so those who want can access it,eventually. Oh, the woes of the technologically challenged.
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