08.04.26
Today I am alone in the treatment room. In an area of the floor where renovations are underway. From time to time, a drill... some banking. But otherwise it was still quite quiet.
The same nurse from last time was scheduled to treat me today. She greeted me with a large smile and a takk for sist. This literally translates to "thank you for the last time [we met]." Simplified, it is another way of saying I am glad to see you again since we last met. Or maybe not that simplified. The actual expression is the simplified way of saying it...
Norwegians are a thankful society. For example, they thank for the meal (with a takk for maten or, in western Norway, takk for skiftet, which thanks both for the meal and company). Thanking for the company or for having spent time together has other variants, such as takk i dag (thank you for today) or takk for meg (I am grateful [for the time we have spent together]).
They are also a very thrifty society (though this may have changed a bit in the younger generations). This is noticeable in how they are economical with their words, and a short expression contains a lot. My favourite, and by far the most accurate illustration, is the Lesson in Norwegian below:
Mozambicans, on the other hand, are more verbal and repetitive. But I find that we have some commonalities. We also thank a lot (and not just in church or God at a meal). Often, in situations where non-African Portuguese speakers may not understand. I realised this one time during an encounter between one of my sisters and one of the house guards. She was born in Mozambique, has a Portuguese mother, and was raised in Portugal, but moved to Mozambique in her mid-to-late teens to live with our father. She was unhappy with something and scolded him. In the end, he thanked her. She came up to me, baffled, and said, "Did he just thank me?" I sensed that she thought that he was slow to comprehend. But for me, it was natural. There was a power imbalance; even though she was much younger, she was the boss's daughter. What I understood was that he was thanking her for calling his mistake to his attention. Possibly, that thank-you also included an attempt not to repeat it in the future. I understood THAT "thank you" differently because, even though I have lived in Europe for long periods, both my parents are Mozambican, I visited relatives elsewhere in Mozambique growing up, and I did fieldwork across Mozambique when I returned from training as an anthropologist.
We also have an equivalent expression to ellers, which is simply novidades? (news?). Both translate to the proverbial "how are things with you and your family?" A (Portuguese) friend of mine also noted that (some) Mozambicans are skimpy with "not yet", saying only ainda (the "yet" part without the "not" - não in Portuguese). He found this genius, being that there would never be an instance where "yes yet" would apply. Norwegians have not found this way to save by dropping the ikke (not) from ikke enda/ennå (yet).
Anyway...
The room had been recently finished. It didn't have a hook for a jacket. And the nurse complained that the cabinets were missing drawers. I made a snarky remark that if nurses had decided on the furniture, they would have noticed that detail immediately. She agreed. Looks like even here, some processes lack participation.
Later, another nurse came with an electronic device, looking for a place to put it, but found the room too small and already full of furniture and other appliances. I guess change requires familiarisation and adaptation. I did have all I needed for my treatment, though.
Again, the same routine. Antihistamine first, Phesgo second. After a prescribed time, the chemo. The catheter was inserted in yet another place, on my right arm this time. It required two attempts. The first didn't hit the vein. The nurse said that the veins were very deep under the skin. I wonder if this is where the myth about darker skin being thicker comes from. I don't think she thinks this. She just noted that the veins were deep and therefore less visible.
The antihistamine knocked me out, and I slept through half of the treatment. I woke up when the machine started beeping, because the drip had stopped. It took a while for the nurses to come. I am not sure they could hear the beeps. When the beeps became more intense and urgent, I pulled the emergency cord to call them, still drowsy. I fell asleep again when the nurse came to attend to it, with her encouragement. I think a second person came in to check on the kerfuffle with the machine.
I eventually came out of my slump, somewhat midway through the treatment and started reading a text in which I had to comment on a meeting after I was done with the treatment. I would come to partially regret having booked something on the same day of the treatment.
The machine beeped again. The nurse didn't hear it again. I pulled the cord after the urgent beeps began. A nurse eventually came; the one who had been attending me had gone for lunch, and at that point she also measured my blood pressure. They measure three times in total. That was going to be the last. She measured several times, because it was higher than the other two. She said that she would measure later.
When the treatment ended, the first nurse had returned from lunch. The other nurse came to let her know that she needed to take my blood pressure again. It was still high.
I think that the fact that I was working didn't help. I had decided to make these moments about me and my regeneration. That was a good instinct. I should be firmer on that.
But old habits are hard to quit. Just like any addiction.
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