Crispy Mush.

Tanvir Naomi Bush Uncategorized 11 Comments

My Dad says it’s okay now to tell you that it is he who has the multiple myeloma; the plasma eating cancer that sneaks in to nibble on white blood cells and nerves leaving mouse bite holes in various bones and causing havoc with the rather useful large organs. It is bloody painful and the treatment is extremely unplesant. He has been having a hard time of it and that is why I am here, in Lusaka, Zambia, extending my Xmas vacation by a few weeks to hang out with me Dad as he chews his way through hundreds of ghastly pills and tries each morning to figure out if it is going to be a good day or a bloody bad one. Xmas Dad/Elf: (c) T. Bush 09

However, as he is rather more stubborn then a mule with piles and braver then Attilla the Hun, he insists on going to work even when he is feeling ghastly, propping himself behind his desk so his patients can’t see his cane or the days when his hands tremble terribly (infuriating for a doctor famous for having the steadiest hands in the biz. Makes tying knots in fishing tackle bloody tricky.)He won’t stop. Last weekend he was honored guest at the Mother of Mercy HIV Hospice where he is volunteer medical supervisor. He insisted on leaping up to make a speech but they made him sit to do the presents.

He is rather marvellous.

He won’t want me to bang on about ‘IT’ though as he hates people worrying. At first he tried telling everyone it was just a ‘squash injury’. He upgraded it to a ‘ski jump accident’ when he started the chemo but now we have both decided ‘kite surfing incident’ has serious kudos and sounds much more glamerous . Hospice Xmas Party: (c) T. Bush 09

My days so far have been focused on hanging out with Dad breakfast, lunch and supper and just being around when he is resting. I am not greatly useful but he doesn’t mind. I’ve seen old friends too including a lovely Xmas dinner party complete with dramatic sunset and sun-downers overlooking the Southern hills, the dying sun burning my pale skin.I do miss Grace of course and find myself talking to the space on my left where she should be, which makes people around me a little nervous, but have news that she is thoroughly enjoying her holiday and the snow back in UK which makes me happy.

When Dad is working I should be working on my manuscript for university but instead I have rejoined my old gym. I love my old stinky gym. I used to train here ten years ago and they still have the same towels and equipment, neither of them have been washed particually well since 1999. But I know where everything is and so even though it is boiling and the air conditioner has never worked, only leaked, even though they have fabulously bad Zambian TV on at the SAME time as blasting out Eminem’s latest hits, even though the door to the ladies changing rooms is stuck open in such a way as to make getting in for a shower an extra cardio exercise and inside is potentially a bacteria ridden death trap, and even though I suspect one of the receptionists does her own version of ‘personal training..ehem’ in the massage room on occasion, even so I feel very comfortable there. Anyway it is all essential for getting rid of stress …..or would have been except my old buddy EM was there. He recently won 3rd place in the Mr. Zambia body building competition and can see from across the blinking gym that I am being half hearted about my crunches and press ups. I am cheerfully adopted and there is no escape. An hour and a half later and my lactic acid build up is through the roof. Me and The Incredible Hulk: (c) T. Bush 09

‘Tomorrow,’ says EM grinning hugely. He does everything hugely. Note the photo…. And I did this..went with my dear friend and her beautiful children to East of the city into the scrubby bush. Storm clouds towered several thousand feet high on the horizon but the sun blazed heartily determined to melt my 50 factor sun cream. I didn’ t have my jodphurs or boots but there was a jump and it just seemed the right thing to do. The horse was Amarula…a very appropriately named beast for me as the amarula is a little fruit which makes a delicious very potent alcoholic drink… So for you readers, in various places and my friends and family snowed in and freezing, slipping on the ice and weary of the darkness, I send you some sunburn, the sound of creaking cicadas, the smell of distant rain and the sensation of sun burn. And love, much, much love. We never know what is around the corner…live every day stuffed full with the stuff! More soon. Cloud Ships: (c) T. Bush 09 X

Comments 11

  1. LOL! Thats great. Fantastic little blog T, thanks for the update, the gym sounds great, I could write a similar one about the gym I use here in East London but there is no EM smiling with freindly greetings just the same smell that was on the bus…. – Much love – B

  2. So sorry to hear about your dad, but he sounds like a really amazing man and must be thoroughly enjoying having you with him.

    As for the horse and the sunshine – jealousy doesn't even come close!

  3. Sorry to hear about your dad. Is there a cure for multiple myeloma? Hope so!

    Your description of your gym might turn people like me away, but my hubby wouldn't mind. He revels in exercise.

    Merry Christmas to you and your dad.

  4. so sorry to hear about your Dad – tho he sounds like an icon of positive thought and inner strength; something about apples and trees here?
    great you are there with him; lovely post – so glad for your blog! and you are right – live for love and the good bits – be greedy!! happy christmas wishes to you all xx

  5. Sorry to hear about your Dad – I know how hard it is to have something like this hang over your head at Christmas.

    I may have told you before that I fainted in a hospital in Zambia – visiting a friend in traction (he had a brick hanging from his head!). Fell right across his feet. I wonder if your dad was there then (I know, it's like how my family would say so & so is in Africa now – do you know them?). This was, hm, let's see, 1988?

    Thanks for the sky picture – makes me nostalgic.

  6. Post

    Thanks very much everyone. Its good to have your support.
    Yep bro – something about the smell of old sweat and socks in these gyms is so…ummm..evocative…
    Thanks Miranda, Mud, Gigihawaii, Val and a happy Xmas to you all too!
    Bug- shall ask him! That sounds extraordinary and yes so very Zambian. I too have walked into a ward where a man who had been shot in the thigh was rigged up to what looked like complex scaffolding – I promptly kicked a brick from under it all…but at least it was not riggeed to his head!!
    Family Affairs – will raise a toast to you and your Pa from here over Xmas and best of luck. I'll be in touch.
    T xx

  7. Merry Christmas, dear T. May your dad have some respite, and may your biceps not suffer the wrath of EM too much. xoxo Miss you.

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