Ghost Boy

Ghost Boy by Martin Pistorius, ©2013, Thomas Nelson Publishers

Every parent's worst fear is to have their child fall ill. When you cannot diagnose the illness, it is that much more frustrating. When that illness leaves your child without the ability to walk, freely move their limbs, or even talk, it reaches nightmare proportions. That was the reality for Martin Pistorius' parents.

Martin had a normal childhood. He liked legos, loved riding his bike and was a quiet, but conscientious boy. At the age of 12 though, he fell mysteriously ill. Doctors ran test upon test, but came up with no conclusive diagnosis for a little boy who was rapidly fading away from his family and life. They advised his parents to prepare for the worst and to move him into a medical center, so they would not have to be burdened with his care. With that, they washed their hands of him, telling his distraught parents there was nothing more they could do.

Miraculously, Martin woke up. Unfortunately for him, no one recognized that he was conscious behind the shell of a body that drooled, spasmodically moved and remained silent. Slowly, Martin became aware of his world again, but without the ability to communicate, wished that he hadn't. He still couldn't speak, had no control over his limbs, and even less control over what the people around him did to him. And some of the things done to him were atrocious.

Ghost Boy recounts the true story of Martin Pistorius' reawakening and the struggle he went through to regain his life. He chronicles the abuse he suffered, the pain at his lack of communication, and the frustration he struggled with at feeling removed from the world. When one caring woman recognizes there is more to Martin than a vacant body and mind, his life is transformed, but the struggle to find the words to fit in are harder than he could ever imagine. For it is communication which opens the door to enter the world which he craved for so long. Having been denied the words and the power to even think of himself as a man, walking through that door is a learning curve. Faith and determination are the crutches that get him there and beyond.

Can you imagine living in a world where people look through you, make all your decisions for you, and regulate every moment of your day? That was Martin's world. And it should make quite the topic of conversation for the ladies in my book club when we meet later this week. Ghost Boy is a quick read, but intensively powerful. And it will make you appreciate your life just a little bit more.

Give Me A Broom or Give Me Death!

Sleeping beauty lay,

glazed eyes barely

able to see

the growing grime.

Was this a fairytale ending -

Forever to drool

onto cheap throw pillows?

Bring on the Drugs!

Don't worry. No camels were actually harmed during this photo shoot. She was actually sleeping!

I haven't played the Sunday 160 in ages! The drugs must be working a smidge, as I am off the couch! Well, hoping to be for some of the rest of this beautiful long weekend. Have a great Sunday all and Salutations to you Monkey Man for being such a super host week after week!

Saturday's Email of the Week: Need a Giggle

Saturday's Email of the Week

I have been out of the loop this week. It started off me trying to play catch up after being gone for most of last week camping. We had a blast, but it was right back into the swing of things on Monday and trying to get ahead. Thankfully Monday was a good writing day, as Tuesday I started to sneeze. By Wednesday my throat hurt and I went to bed early, only to be like the walking dead sweating and dripping and scrambling for a thermometer. The floor was the only cool place to be, but lying there I just felt too exposed. From whom? No one, but I worried that my children would stumble over me on the way to the bathroom and be worried that I was lying in the hallway. Yeah, it was bad. I managed to fumble back to bed and pretty much stayed there for two days. I was weak, sore and had a metallic taste in my mouth, that today I finally noticed equated to my tongue being gray. Yuck.

With help from a friend delivering tylenol and taking my children to daycare, I managed to sleep most of the rest of Friday away. By the time they came home at 5pm, I was able to finally stand for 5 minutes again. Hooray! I even read stories at bedtime, which I didn't have the throat to do, even if I could have kept my eyes open for long enough. Victory is mine. Well, maybe not victory, as I am still pretty limp, but I will survive.

So I apologize for not being around much the last few weeks. I need a little humour to make me feel more a'rights, so hope you enjoy these dandies from my inbox this week. Feel free to send me anything that you think I might enjoy or want to share on my email of the week. Happy Saturday!



To make this story more relevant, please feel free to substitute
"Florida" or "Georgia" for "Texas"!

Dear Diary,


Just moved to Texas ! Now this is a state that knows how to live!!
Beautiful sunny days and warm balmy evenings. It is beautiful. I've
finally found my home. I love it here.


June 14th:
Really heating up. Got to 100 today. Not a problem. Live in an
air-conditioned home, drive an air-conditioned car. What a pleasure to
see the sun everyday like this. I'm turning into a sun worshipper.


June 30th:
Had the backyard landscaped with western plants today. Lots of cactus
and rocks. What a breeze to maintain. No more mowing the lawn for me.
Another scorcher today, but I love it here.


July 10th:
The temperature hasn't been below 100 all week. How do people get used
to this kind of heat? At least, it's kind of windy though. But getting
used to the heat is taking longer than I expected.


July 15th:
Fell asleep by the community pool. Got 3rd degree burns over 60% of my
body. Missed 3 days of work. What a dumb thing to do. I learned my
lesson though. Got to respect the ol' sun in a climate like this.


July 20th:
I missed Lomita (my cat) sneaking into the car when I left this
morning. By the time I got to the hot car at noon, Lomita had died and
swollen up to the size of a shopping bag, then popped like a water
balloon. The car now smells like Kibbles and Shits. I learned my
lesson though. No more pets in this heat. Good ol' Mr. Sun strikes
again.


July 25th:
The wind sucks. It feels like a giant freaking blow dryer!! And it's
hot as hell. The home air-conditioner is on the fritz and the AC
repairman charged $200 just to drive by and tell me he needed to order
parts.


July 30th:
Been sleeping outside on the patio for 3 nights now, $225,000 house
and I can't even go inside. Lomita is the lucky one. Why did I ever
come here?


Aug. 4th:
Its 115 degrees. Finally got the air-conditioner fixed today. It cost
$500 and gets the temperature down to 85. I hate this stupid state.


Aug. 8th:
If another wise ass cracks, 'Hot enough for you today?' I'm going to
strangle him. Damn heat. By the time I get to work, the radiator is
boiling over, my clothes are soaking wet, and I smell like baked cat!!


Aug. 9th:
Tried to run some errands after work. Wore shorts, and when I sat on
the seats in the car, I thought my ass was on fire. My skin melted to
the seat. I lost 2 layers of flesh and all the hair on the back of my
legs and ass . . . Now my car smells like burnt hair, fried ass, and
baked cat.


Aug 10th:
The weather report might as well be a damn recording. Hot and sunny.
Hot and sunny. Hot and sunny. It's been too hot to do shit for 2 damn
months and the weatherman says it might really warm up next week.
Doesn't it ever rain in this damn state? Water rationing will be next,
so my $1700 worth of cactus will just dry up and blow over. Even the
cactus can't live in this damn heat.


Aug. 14th:
Welcome to HELL! Temperature got to 115 today. Cactus are dead. Forgot
to crack the window and blew the damn windshield out of the car. The
installer came to fix it and guess what he asked me??? "Hot enough for
you today?" My sister had to spend $1,500 to bail me out of jail.
Freaking Texas . What kind of a sick demented idiot would want to
live here?? Will write later to let you know how the trial goes.

recovering

The circle of life

spun close to the edge this week

I recover via couch

Was it you?

Ok, which one of you came into my world sniffling?

I was awake at 5AM, blasted out of sleep for a breathe. I rolled over and found myself completely congested. No amount of blowing could dislodge the snuffles. Now I sit here mouth-breathing and waiting for my chicken noodle soup to come ready.

BLAH

I don't care how much sunshine is outside.

My nose is getting raw and I don't like it.

-Pooh-

*

mouth breathing monster

with lemon-scented thought balloons

grumpy for the day

*

Blame the Cumquat

   The first few days in South Africa were a barrage of experiences. I fell in love with the belly laugh of my Uncle Jock and felt at home in his warm presence. He wandered me around in his back garden showing me his strawberries (that I devoured), cape gooseberries (that I had never seen before, let alone eaten) and other plant life. He loved his fruit, eating several pieces every day after dinner and I was introduced to paw paws (like papaya) and oranges like I had never tasted before. They were so sweet and juicy! The food did not stop there. My Aunt Elsa was a lovely woman that cooked new and intriguing dishes for me to discover. I tried skulpakie (liver wrapped in fat and braaied), rooi hakskeentjies (translation: small red heels - pickled onion dish), home-made rusks(dried crusts of bread), bobotie (curried meatloaf with egg topping), brawn (gelatinous curried sandwich meat made of calf’s heels and pig’s trotters) and of course was introduced to a braai (a barbecue on a specially built outdoor hearth where a coiled sausage was the headliner amongst several other meats).

   Not only did I have food to discover, but a whole new language to discern; Afrikaans. I thrilled at this new   language and tried to take baby steps at learning words of objects around me.

   “Chicken - hoender. Meat – vleis. Katjie- kitten. Hond- dog.” I stated.

   “Een, Twee, drie… One, Two, Three,” I intoned to the mirth of watching relatives.

   “Dankie,” I beamed to their claps. “Baie dankie”

   Yes, thank you. Thank you very much. My pronunciation was horrible. They were happy to teach me about their culture and world though. Initial introductions were filtered through a foggy brain, but I was keen to learn as much as I could. I took notes on pronunciation. I read books written by local authors, including one relative Uys Krige. I plotted out a family tree to help me figure out who I was meeting and how they were related to me (the first day alone I met 2 aunts, my uncle, my cousin, her husband and one of their children). I listened to tales of my relative’s adventures while visiting in Canada many years before. I shared tales of my own of my country, culture and familiar family that was so far away. And of course I asked questions, questions and more questions. It was exhilarating. It was also exhausting. I made it to 7:30pm the first night and slept straight through to 10:30am the next morning. It is a wonder I had the strength to breathe, I was so tired.

   After about a week in the country, I slowly got over my jet lag. I added another uncle, cousin, her spouse and two children, and another second cousin Francoise to my list of relatives. I ventured out on my own one morning for a walk to the store and took my life in my hands attempting to cross the street. Again I was confounded by transit driving on the other side of the road. Look right, look left, look right, start to cross, and jump back as a car approaches with haste from the wrong direction. It took a lot of getting used to. The experience was empowering though and set me on a path for the independent travel that was to come.

   I also continued to experiment with new food and slowly began to regret it. One too many cumquats pushed me over the edge. The first tentative soft bowels were soon replaced by a full-on case of Traveller’s Trots. It had nothing to do with poor sanitation or contaminated water. It had everything to do with my love of new foods and lack of forethought by ingesting mass amounts of fruit to a body still thinking it was going into the hibernation of winter. Nothing stayed in me and I dropped over ten pounds in less than a week. My aunt fretted that my mother would be horrified by their lack of care of me in such a short time. As I pushed away dried toast and desperately tried to keep down sips of water, I thought again about what a journey I was on. The sounds of bubbles shifting around in a tummy racked in digestive distress did not celebrate the adventure I heralded. This too would pass.