Thursday, April 14, 2016


I seem to have lost the last post. (That sounds ominous "Last Post"is the call over graves.) I wanted to add some poems, so I minimised it and that seems to have made it disappear, What it was about was just the unpredictability of life, especially life when you're over eighty. On Easter Sunday, ievening, i had just enjoyed a lovely day; the morning with my Grandson Luke and the afternoon with Danielle and Tyler. then, suddenly,in the night, a gastro attack. I had to call the nurses. they helpedme and in the morning, had Christo call an ambulance. He told me later, that he was the one who notified, Luke and said how relieved he was, to find that Luke was in Cape Town and not back in George.

Being carted off in an ambulance was a new experience for me. It was also a new experience to be in a hospital ward, immobilised, attached to a drip.  I must say that if one has to be in hospital, Constantiaberg is a good place to be. I was impressed by the kindness and care I received there.

This experience has made me think twice about making long-term plans. I used to take my rude health for granted. Now I know it can no longer be relied upon. Two trips are scheduled for later this year. : Steph and I are going to McGregor in August and in October I am going to Hogsback with Cynthia. I almost regret having made these arrangements. Perhaps when I am more fully recovered I will feel differently.

I am going to try again to post a poem relating to the experiences referred to above.

Bright lights shine in the corridor
outside my door. I hear footsteps.
People walk up and down.
In the next ward someone coughs
another moans incessantly.
A tap drips in a basin. I can’t get up
to turn it off
I lie
caught like an insect in a web of tubes
that dangle from the ceiling,
imprisoned by liquid dripping
into fragile veins.

The cougher stops, the moans cease too.
Perhaps they both have died.
I think of dying, joining loved ones,
husband, parents, dearest friends
Do they wait for me?
Dreaming of them, slide into sleep
and then a big, black, male nurse comes,
wakes me, adjusts the drip.
The coughs and moans start up again,
I hear
soft conversations in the passages.
Somebody rings a bell.
Time crawls, the night goes on.

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