Hello.
This past week feels like something I lived through in fast forward, while also somehow standing completely still inside it.
It started with a decision I wasn’t ready to make.
Prof L van Niekerk, recommended by Prof Lamb, decided that Lia needed her Mic-Key tube placed in theatre the next morning (19 March 2026). Just like that. We had to be at Kloof Hospital in Pretoria at 6:00. Surgery at 08:30.
I remember sitting with it, trying to process, trying to breathe. Everything felt too fast. Too big.
When I told Prof Lamb how scared I was, he said something that stayed with me:
“You told me that she is depending on me. I depend on God and His holy mother. She will turn the corner after this. It can also save her life in terms of not dying due to aspiration. There is nothing to fear. Your life will also become much easier from now onward. You are extremely brave. Trust yourself.”
So I made the call I didn’t want to make.
Because Lia trusts me.
And my job is to protect her.
⸻
Surgery Day
The procedure took about an hour.
And she did it. She did so well.
Prof van Niekerk is in a league of his own. I understand now why Prof Lamb wanted him specifically. The tube was stitched onto her stomach, and almost immediately, she was able to receive fluids through it.
Relief and shock lived side by side in me.
We thought we’d only go home a day or two later, but those first 24 hours were intense. Lia was incredibly irritated, uncomfortable, exhausted… and honestly, I don’t blame her. It’s a lot for a little body to go through.
Her blood pressure was high, they treated it, and we just took it hour by hour.
I was running on nothing. Completely empty.
But grateful.
So deeply grateful that she was okay.
⸻
The Day That Broke Me
In the middle of all of this… there was another weight I was carrying.
The day after surgery would have been my brother’s 40th birthday.
The eighth one since we lost him.
Grief doesn’t wait for “better timing.”
I cried in the coffee shop.
I cried in the pharmacy.
I cried next to Lia’s hospital bed.
Between everything going on, I still miss him the same way.
My best friend. My person.
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Coming Home
We made it home a day earlier than expected.
I think the nurses could see it all over me. The exhaustion. The desperation. The quiet “I can’t do another night here.” And somehow, they helped make it happen.
Before we left, they taught me how to do feeds and medication through the tube.
I was terrified.
It felt overwhelming in a way I can’t fully explain. Like one more thing I might fail at when it matters most.
But then I did it.
One feed. One medication run.
And something shifted.
I realised… I can do this.
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Finding Our New Normal
The current tube looks big and scary. It’s temporary while everything settles and attaches properly. In about 2–3 weeks, they’ll place the Mic-Key button in the day ward, and it will look a lot less intimidating.
For now, we adjust.
The tube is only for liquids and medication. Lia still eats — and I’m holding onto that with everything in me. She loves food. Veggies, mash, mince, chicken, noodles… it’s her joy. And I won’t take that away from her.
Tonight, she’s sleeping next to my bed.
Nélius is behind me.
And for the first time in what feels like forever… we’re just here. Together.
⸻
The Quiet Worry
But even in this calm, my mind doesn’t switch off.
Her chest sounds wet.
It sits in the back of my mind constantly.
I don’t think I’ll sleep much.
I don’t think my body knows how to yet.
I worry about everything.
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The Truth
I am tired.
Not just tired… finished.
I’ve had enough of hospitals.
Machines. Monitors.
Bad news. Long nights.
Even good news. Because you wait for the pin to drop.
That constant feeling of waiting for the next thing.
Being home feels like a deep breath I didn’t realise I was holding.
Charlotte is so happy to have her mom home.
And that alone makes everything feel a little bit lighter.
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What Comes Next
Now we settle.
Emotionally.
Mentally.
Physically.
Everything.
And we take it one day at a time… like we always do.
⸻
Thank you for every message, every prayer, every bit of love.
It has carried us more than you will ever know. ❤️
