Easter. The holiday that ends before it has even started. (Part 2)

Day 6 (continued)   Plumber #1 arrived.  I left baby in the cot, let him yell and scream all he might, as I oversee the plumber #1 to investigate what the damage is.  He jet hosed every possible sewage opening, but still could not get the flow going.  "It seems like tree roots have caused your pipes to collapse!  An excavation is the only solution to replace the pipes, and it's going to cost you $15,000. We will cut a 2x2 meter hole in your courtyard, call in a mini-digger, and dig down 2 meters deep to get to the mains. If you agree, we will start work on Monday."   Excavation?...and the smell of the house.  I start imagining the kids catching all kinds of sickness from the filthiness: pneumonia, gastro bugs...  Tonight we started eating out every meal and stop taking showers.

Day 7  Friday.  Luckily the grandparents are in town, and they are happy to have the grandkids for a few days. I packed them up with dairy-free, gluten-free breakfast and snacks for the next few days.  They are eager to have some real holiday fun, finally:  movies, bowling, playcenters, and no grouchy mum. They can't wait to be out of the house.

I rang up plumber #2, 3, 4, 5, each of them wanting to try to clear the drain for $600 a pop with a more powerful jet machine.  What if an excavation is indeed the only way to fix it? Their cameras could not see a thing as the water is so murky.  We are having a blind bet. More money down the drain, indeed.  The plumber smirked, "Ha! That's the joy of house-ownership!"

Day 8  Saturday.  Excavation begins. Two workmen cut up the cement in our beautifully stencilled courtyard.  "No more stencils after this is over. It will be just a gray patch of cement." He warned.  The hole was deeper than they've expected.  There seemed to be no signs of any tree roots invasion.  Could I have made a wrong judgement? I tossed and turned and couldn't take my mind off the whole thing.  Nightmares have crept back into my dreams, like the days when I had the depression.

Day 9  Sunday.  More excavation.  No washing up. No shower. No toilets. I got out of the house for some fresh air, and a Red Cross volunteer approached me about making a donation.  "I'm really not feeling sympathetic to anybody now. Sorry."

In the night, I dreamt. Baby Bobo, in the stroller, smiling at me. Then a bus came, hit him and drag him under. His little skull was crushed under the bus. I was devastated and wept.  Then I woke up, and thank God, it's just another dream.

Day 10  Monday.  The pipes and junction are exposed. It is choked full of tree roots! I was correct about the excavation! Yuhoo... (why am I so irrationally exuberant about having a hole in my house?) The plumbers are legally not allowed to touch the section of the pipes that belonged to Sydney Waters, so we called them in.  And as expected when dealing with a public utility, their answer is "We'll come back tomorrow morning to clear the pipes."

Day 11  Tuesday.  It's raining. Nobody turned up on site. Sydney Water refuse to send their man down the hole in such weather.

In the night, I dreamt again.  This time, EggEgg has burnt scars all over his body, black charred skin spreading into his face.  I rushed him to ER, and the doctor refused to attend to him, saying, "He does not have any problem."  The despair. The futility. Luckily it's just another dream.

Day 12 Wednesday.  It's rained heavier than ever. The 2m deep hole was half filled with water.    And forecast says it will rain till Friday too.

... In spite of all these events, I count my blessings.  My kids are back to their healthy self, we have supportive family and friends, invitations to playdates, lunches and Bible fellowship.  The sky is not going to fall on our heads yet.  (But I do desperately need a shower...)