As long as the machine is going beep...

      

 Back on my trusty steed again

In this particular case...
It all started with a tooth...

After several years of procrastination, I finally decided

 to have an impacted wisdom tooth removed.

What had kept me from having the procedure done?

The fact that my dentist said that he was not able to do it

"in the chair" and that is would need to be done under a general anesthetic

in a theatre at a local clinic.

I sought a second opinion which confirmed the original.

I really did NOT want to undergo such a procedure so I lived with the 

pain and the inconvenience for several years...

until recently, when for a week, the pain became unbearable,

and I became a VERY GRUMPY old man. 

Once again I sought advice from my dentist who gave me 

the name of a maxillo-facial surgeon,

who after looking at my x-ray said the words I wanted to hear...

"I can do it in the chair under conscious sedation.

"Book me in" was my response.

And so began a journey that I was NOT expecting! 

I HIGHLY recommend conscious-sedation.

I had looked up the procedure before having to tooth removed, 

so I sort of knew that to expect.

I thought that I might be able to hear the crunch of the tooth

or at the very least some tugging as it was taken out.

NOTHING! I REMEMBER NOTHING!

I remember saying to the surgeon "Please do not fold my spectacles"

and after that NOTHING until I was woken up by the anesthesiologist

saying "All done time to head to the recovery room". 

And off to the recovery room I dutifully went.

I was here for about 20 minutes and after a cup of tea

it was time to be taken home.

For medical reasons (and a hefty dose of a Schedule 7 drug)

I was not allowed to drive myself home.

Luckily my wife was waiting to take me home.

The whole procedure, including waiting, took under 2 hours.

I had expected to be in recovery for a while,

but having arrived at 07h30, I was on my way home by 09h30.

And that I thought would be the end of that...

but NO, the anesthesiologist had picked up a heart flutter

 that he wanted me have have checked out.

And as soon as possible!

My wife wanted to take me to our specialist physician immediately,

I said that I wanted to get over the extraction first 

and we could go the following day.

Cut to the following morning.

And this is the result of an ECG and my immediate admittance 

to the ICU at a local clinic...

"I did not pass GO, I did not collect R200.00"

I thought that my physician was joking when he said 

"I want you in ICU NOW"

I even looked at my wife, also a Doctor, for support

only to find a look on HER face that said this is not a joke.

I was gobsmacked...

The last time I was in hospital was more than 30 years ago

and I was in High Care for one night, post op.

No sooner was I in bed than a drip was inserted.

"Why", I asked

"In case" was the reply.

Vials of blood were drawn.

Finger pricked for glucose levels were done

And a BP cuff was attached to the

"machine that goes beep"

This was to automatically inflate every hour

 for the duration of my stay

making sleep almost impossible

Many thanks to all those who sent me messages.

Little did I know how concerned folks were.

I have responded to some folks individually,

and I will try to get to the rest in due course.

Each and every message was read and appreciated.

Every staff member I interacted with asked me the same question

"Why are you here"? 

My stock response became:

"Because I had nothing better to do"!

And the next question was always

"Do you have any allergies"?

And my stock response:

"Yes, stupidity "!

Luckily I was able to be discharged after just on night

and that was more that I actually wanted to be there.

But I was lucky, as I discovered a friend who had been there for two weeks!

I hope to be back in the bush in the not too distant future,

with a new out look on life and how to live it.

I now have to wait for 3 weeks while the new medication does its work

and then a short procedure to shock my heart back into the correct rhythm

So I am not totally out of the woods just yet.

And that is all I have to say...

Until the next time.

Chaggy boy...gone but never forgotten. 23/07/2018

My assistant has left us! 

July 23rd, 2018

"The clouds will lift and our lives will continue.

Maybe not quite the same as before,

but we will adapt.

And memories will take the place of the sadness.

There is a light even in the darkest corners,

our eyes just need time to become used to the dark"

I wrote this in 2013 for a friend that I lost...

today I lost another friend and companion.

After months of trying to help Chaggy, he finally chose to let go today.

Yes, we did make the ultimate decision, but when it came down to it,

 it was he who chose to let us know that it was time for us to say goodbye.

We have had 12 wonderful years with him,

considering that we almost did not get him when we

 went looking for a cat.

Jayne (my daughter) and I chose a black and white cat, 

while Carolyn(my wife) chose the boy.

Over the years, Miro, the black and white, became Caro's cat...and still is. 

While the boy chose me to be his side-kick.

I will miss him running to the car when he heard the gate open 

and the crunch of tires on our gravel drive alerted him to the fact that either

 Caro or I were returning home. 

Tail held high and rolling over to invite tickles and interactions.

I will miss him "talking" to me as he did in no uncertain terms. 

Whether it was to greet or chastise me for returning home late

 and waking him from a nap.

I will also miss the hours that he spent with me lying on my desk while I tried to work.

And his head butts and paw-to-the-face to get me out of bed

 to open a window or give him food.

(You are not a certified cat owner until you have been head butted

 awake in the early hours of the morning).

Over the past few weeks, as he declined, I have been sleeping with him
 in a bean bag in our lounge.
 Those nights of him lying on my chest or curled up in the crook of my arm
will be part of my memories of him forever.

In the final hours that I shared with him, it dawned on me that although 

I have lost animals in the past, 

I have never been there when the inevitable happened.

He has offered me the opportunity to hold him and be with him

 as his body grows cold and his soul leaves.

I handed our vet the final syringe with reticence 

and I was able to look into his eyes

 as the plunger was pushed.

Yes, Caro and I have argued about taking this final step, 

but that too has been a learning curve.

We both wanted the best for him, but chose to express it in different ways.

 But thanks to Chaggy, those differences have been resolved and

 we can stand united as we bid him farewell.

Our vet Reka, who has loved and cared for him for all of his life, 

and who brought him back from death's door three times 

AND helped to cure his diabetes was here at our home

 to help him make the final transition.

Also my daughter Jayne, whose hug was instrumental in helping to cure his diabetes. 

Munch, it was a combined effort...you, Reka and Chaggy!

A huge debt of a gratitude goes to all the staff at Victory Park Veterinary Clinic

 who loved and cared for him during his visits to the clinic. 

Your kind and gentle caring did not go unnoticed.

He was helped on his journey in our garden with the warm winter sun shining down on him.

He slipped away without a twitch or any resistance.

 It was his time.

He is at peace, with whatever ailed him being no longer an issue.

We are on the other hand, have begun our grieving and mourning process.

Even though it has been only a short while since his death,
 already our home feels different. 

But that is to be expected and is part of the grieving process

 that we we here at 114 will experience.

We allowed our black and white cat to see the body before he was laid to rest...

she was not too interested but we are hoping that at some primal level

 she will understand that he has gone.

And in the spirit of all the medical TV dramas that I have watched with him on my lap

 or in the room:

Time of death: 11h12

Date: 23/07/2018

He will be laid into the earth in a cardboard box that was his safe space

 for all the time he was with us.

Travel safely my boy...perhaps you and my Dad will finally get to meet.

Chaggy, although you did not meet him, Spunky(Caro's previous cat) 

shared this home with us before you arrived. 

Perhaps you will find him to share stories with. 

You were both loved so very much.

Goodbye my beautiful boy...

Much love from Carolyn, Jayne,Jennifer and me.

XX

This was read at my Dad's memorial...

and it is as valid for Chaggy as it was for my Dad.

 Death is nothing at all. 
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Nothing has happened.
Everything remains exactly as it was.
I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly

 together is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. 
Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. 
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. 
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. 
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. 
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it.
Life means all that it ever meant. 
It is the same as it ever was. 
There is absolute and unbroken continuity.
What is this death but a negligible accident? 
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval, 

somewhere very near, just round the corner.
All is well.
Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost. 
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!