Tag: family

It’s a hard life!

Well …. it was at first...!

Now ….

I live in my own house in Australia. I have a wife, have enough to live on and save and no debts. My children and grandchildren all live in Australia, most within an hour’s drive.

We celebrate occasions and braai together frequently.

I am 73 years old and despite creaks and groans, not chronically ill.

In the past year I have consulted a doctor, cardiologist, and a nuclear radiologist. I have also seen a podiatrist, dentist, and a chiropractor. In addition, I have seen a phlebotomist and a physiotherapist. I visited some of these professionals more than once. All at no cost or subsidised fees.

My doctor at my last medical check-up said: If I had these results I would be dancing every day!

As a pensioner I receive subsidies for electricity and rates from the State. Any public transport costs 50 cents a trip.

In the event of an accident, I will be fetched by an ambulance and treated in hospital at no cost. Most operations and hospital visits are free for me.

If I need a carer in the future, the State will cover most of the costs. Alternatively, they will subsidise costs of a care home.

They may even send someone to mow the lawn.

You will note the absence of a mental health professional in the list. That is because I am wise and sane. I can remember nearly everything! But that service is subsidised too, if required!

For my friends and family in darkest Africa and darkening Europe, this may sound like a boast. Please forgive me if it sounds like that; it is not!

I am profoundly grateful for my good fortune. We are truly blessed!

I am haunted by my heritage, which remains an ache but know that we did the right thing.

But there are snakes, spiders and jellyfish and slimy politicians here …. I tell you: it’s a hard life!

Naartjies

I am sentimental, I know… but I can’t call them mandarins.

It’s like barbeque is not the right word and I think that those who say it are ‘n bietjie skeef!

For some reason, I have always felt that naartjies are quintessentially South African. I am quite happy for non-Africans to call a similar fruit mandarins … they aren’t really naartjies.

The thing about naartjies is they are so easy to peel and the peels are so bright and pretty they don’t really matter when discarded on the roadside.

They are lekker sweet and it’s easy to eat a whole bag without thinking.

The current Lions Tour prompts a memory from schooldays. Our Rugby coach and Geography teacher was an Irishman, Rick Hamilton, from Ulster – a surprisingly nice man notwithstanding. In 1968 the Lions played Eastern Transvaal in Springs. It was a mid-week game and Rick organised for the school First Rugby XV to attend.

It was about a six hour trip each way, so we had to leave early in the morning. The main manne sat in the back row. It was possible to duck down there and have a smoke if the windows were kept open. The masters sitting up front pretended not to notice.

I remember some of the songs we sang: She’ll be coming round the mountain (clean version), I am a rock, America, Sounds of silence, (Simon and Garfunkel were big then) Blowing in the wind, Catch the wind …

We eventually arrived. Most of us were country boys so the big crowd and the grandstand were awe inspiring.

Standard rugby fare was biltong and naartjies. We had great admiration for some enterprising Springs High boys. They were slinging naartjies up over the back of the grandstand, dropping them on unsuspecting spectators from another school… Impressive!

Can’t remember the score but it was a wonderful experience, despite 12 hours in the bus. They had even kept some dinner for us back at school.

Eish Boet! It’s lekker to braai boerewors to go with mielie bread or mielie pap. Other than biltong and bakkie not many more words have followed us across the Indian Ocean. But there are a lot of Saffas in Australia! Last time the Springboks played in Brisbane there were twice as many more green jerseys than yellow ones.

Mind you, amongst fellow Africans there is a lot of kak praat and no-one gets gatvol.

Isn’t it astounding that South Africa produces so many world sports champions!

I believe Rassie has worked miracles in giving South Africans a common pride in their country. At last week’s rugby test against Italy in Cape Town, white supporters were a minority. I have never seen that before!

I reckon it’s something to do with a steady diet of biltong, boerewors and koeksisters!

A brush with death…

Quite recently I was told that there was a snake in my vicinity which could strike at any time! If it did I should call an ambulance immediately. Also, it would be better if I didn’t move around in case it struck!

I suggested not finishing mowing the lawn. However, that was ruled out at home. “If you are going to die, you are going to die – it’s the same for all of us.”

Well, that was the best advice. No panic, no worrying … almost a secret pleasure. The prospect of imminent death was not at all daunting. Maybe a bit of regret that I wouldn’t be at my wake. I did suggest it as a possibility. Maybe I could be borrowed from the undertakers and propped up in the corner with a beer in my hands…?

That’s not exactly what really happened…

My doctor had cut off a mole and sent it off for checking. She also sent me to a cardiologist to check my ticker. He sent me for some tests.

As arranged, my doctor phoned to report if the mole was dubious or not. It was not.

But, she had the results of my CT test…

  • I was to take 300 aspirin immediately and one every day forever.
  • I was not to do anything strenuous and if I had any discomfort, no matter what, I was to call an ambulance!
  • She was booking me into hospital for angioplasty.

That’s when I asked about the lawn and the washing up.

The snake was a clogged coronary artery, which seemed to be a serious situation.

However, I saw my cardiologist a few days later and he said:

Nah, relax –it’s not a problem, we will treat it medically. It has been there a long time. If it hasn’t killed you by now, it is not likely to do so.

He is a very good doctor – he just prescribed a few pills and didn’t even put me on a diet!

So my plans for a wake are on ice.

Quite an impressive tale to tell and some of my children seemed concerned, which was heart warming.

On a slightly less jocular note, I was surprised. I was not remotely concerned by my doctor’s alarm and urgent arrangements for heart surgery.

On second thoughts, is it depressing that the thought of my death doesn’t alarm me? … I wonder if there is Beck’s in heaven? If the beer is warm, I have probably gone to hell…