How remarkable! A whole week has passed in which so many things happened, and then again nothing special happened.
Last Monday I had to go to the clinic for a check-up. First with an assistant for a weight check (-4kg… SHIT) and then with the doctor to check the wounds (only 2 open gunshot wounds left so the healing is going well 😊), and then a chat about how I’ve been after the surgery. Well, she thought that those 4 rotten kilos weren’t a lot either and she wanted to discuss my (not) progress during the doctors’ meeting. Right, finally I am taken seriously. The doctor would contact me after the meeting. So that was on Tuesday:
“Hello, Cindy speaking”
“Good afternoon, this is Dr. blahdieblah. During the doctors’ meeting blah blah… conclusion… Before the operation you ate far too little blahdieblah and now 6 food moments blah blah… Your body has to adjust. Just wait and see.”
Siiiiigh, yeah yeah, I’ll wait. In 4 weeks I have to call back to let them know how many kilos I’ve lost.
Last week was also the week that I tried to apply for a visa to enter Russia for my husband and me. We’ll go to St. Petersburg for a weekend. Do you know how difficult that is? Really, I swear, if you’re not a brain surgeon you have a hard time succeeding. Fortunately, I am a brain surgeon (eh …?) and after 3 attempts, 5 phone calls and 12 e-mails, I think I succeeded. We’ll leave on the 1st of March and the visas are ready on February 28 or so they think. Incidentally, I think we both get 3 visas (and 375 euros per person poorer) because I tried it through 3 different agencies, but one said that a visa would take 10 working days (that was not possible) and at the other office I couldn’t even make an appointment. Of course, you have to finish a whole circuit first, including all payment details, and then, at the moment you want to make an appointment, the computer says NOOOO.
Oh, and did I already mention that my husband has to go on a business trip beforehand? If all goes well, he lands on the 1st of March in the morning and sees me (with our visas) at Schiphol Airport for the flight to St. Petersburg.
I reminded my husband about 18 years ago when he came home three weeks before our vacation, 2 weeks, 1 week, 3 days, the same day. Eventually we saw each other 4 days after the start of our holiday in Sri Lanka, our holiday destination.
Ah well, we’ll see. This is just typical “Traveling De Muynckies style”. Never a dull moment when we (plan to) travel.
And then something I expected to happen sooner. Last week I dropped most of my juggling balls. I’m under a lot of stress and during this past month I’ve done too much too fast after the surgery. I am very tired, the last few days I felt really bad and on top of all I had a migraine attack. Luckily, I had a little plastic bag in the car and, due to the gastric bypass, no more bile during vomiting. Had I still had bile, then that little sandwich bag wouldn’t be good enough because it would splash in all directions.
By now I’ve realized that I have to take some steps back. But that’s easier said than done. It’s not so easy with a job, a shop, a family, a household and 2 dogs and that’s exactly the reason why I want to move. I just want to sell this stupid huge house and live in the countryside. A few horses on the land, a little pig, the dogs outside and maybe a little goat 😊
No chickens though! Chickens are really scary. Butterflies are scary too, but I can handle them. But chickens? Chickens are horrible and mean. They can also eat meat, did you know that? And they fly!
A few years ago, I was attacked by a chicken in Thailand. I was sitting outside smoking a cigarette (Yes, I used to smoke!) and a chicken with a couple of chicks came walking towards me. I sat still and grabbed my phone to take a picture (I don’t know why, as if we don’t have chickens in the Netherlands? But hey, this was a Thai chicken and that makes it very different). That mother-chicken looked at me with her mean beady eyes, spread her wings and flew right at me. Well I grew up in a flat and the only thing I knew about chickens was that they say TOK. So how was I supposed to know that they could fly? So, that stupid chicken flew right at me and the only thing I could do was knock that thing away. It had the desired effect because that mother-chicken and her baby-chicks ran away. The rest of the holiday that chicken and I avoided each other. As soon as we saw each other, she went one way and I went the other way.
Anyway, enough about scary chickens. I just want a relaxed (smaller) house and that if I look out of the window, I will see nothing but space. Oh, and all those animals, of course. My own little zoo.
I think if we live in a little farmhouse that we can properly house train Elmo. The dog whisperer visited last Wednesday, and she advised us to buy a litter box where we have to put Elmo on every hour. Actually, we should take Elmo out every hour but that is difficult here, right in the city. Elmo is also extremely tired. It may also be that he has ADHD, but at least he is very active. Puppies generally have to sleep about 21 hours a day. Hahahahahahahaaa…. Nope. That’s not what our Elmo does and that’s why Elmo is so tired. We also have to separate him more often from Muppet so Elmo gets less distracted and can sleep more. In short, our second dog with a manual.
When I started this blog, it was all about the Camino and the gastric bypass and my broken foot. If I read back what I just wrote about last week, I wrote about everything except about my broken foot (still a bit broken) and about the Camino. Well, I’ve got news for you!!!
I’ve received my official pilgrim passport. Since last Wednesday I am officially a pilgrim. Soon I will look for a cloak. All pilgrims wear cloaks… I think. One with a big hood and where you can disappear in. I do have to think about how I should wear that cloak. Of course, I also have a big backpack on my back during the Camino. If I wear that cloak over that backpack, I will look like Quasimodo with a hunchback. But wearing the backpack over that cloak is not possible either. How can you? You can’t pull the backpack over your arms because there are no armholes in a cloak.
Do I want to look like Quasimodo? Or am I a pilgrim without a cloak? What a dilemma! I have to think about that.
Until next week 😊