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!

Never assume, no matter how bad it looks

Back on the horse again...

Never judge a book by its cover.

Or in this case, a crash by the aftermath...

I never normally stop at an accident site.

but I made an exception in this instance.

What made me deviate from my norm? 

The extend of the damage to the Audi TT,in what appeared to be a single car incident.

Note the cupcake holders that were strewn about 

the first part of the wreckage that I encountered.

I have never seen such utter devastation at an accident site before.

I was told by the SAPS members still on the scene,

that this had occurred just a few hours earlier.

My initial comment was;

"Too much money, too much alcohol and not much sense"

Never assume as it makes an "ass of u and me, but I did assume

and I was about to be proved wrong... 

The first thing I noticed inside what was left of the cabin was this bible.

Probably the only item that was intact.

There is a song by Carrie Underwood called "Jesus take the wheel"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lydBPm2KRaU

Perhaps this was the case here...

It was at this point I discovered that the driver was a woman...

This is what was left of the front of the Audi.

I kept wondering to myself what could have caused this total destruction.

The gearbox and engine were lying several meters from the car.

What was left of the gearbox...torn from the engine!

And the engine.

As one of the many bystanders commented:

"The only way that this much damage could have been caused

is if the car was dropped from an aeroplane"!

As I walked around the car, 

I spared a thought for the driver whom I was convinced has perished.

A close up view of the engine bay,

or what was left of it!

Look at the state of the only wheel still attached to the chassis.

It was at this point I was told that driver had SURVIVED.

Purportedly with no apparent injuries!

UPDATE 1: 

I have it on good authority that the driver survived the accident.

She is traumatized but otherwise uninjured.

UPDATE 2:

This from News24:

A woman is in a critical condition after the Audi she was travelling in veered off the road, became airborne and slammed into a sign post, emergency services have said.The incident took place in the early hours of Sunday morning.The woman was found lying behind the wreck of the vehicle. She was taken to Charlotte Maxeke Hospital. "Paramedics treated the woman and immediately initiated advanced life support interventions, in an effort to stabilize her vital signs," said ER24's Russel Meiring.

Is there a message or a lesson that can be taken from this?

Does the bible say that she was a religious person

and that might have contributed to her being saved?

One can argue for and against that statement.

For me, I am totally astounded that anyone 

of any religious persuasion would have survived.

These images speak volumes for the safety features 

built into the particular model.

And for those, like me, who are wondering how

the accident actually occurred, have a look that this clip:

https://www.facebook.com/david.batzofin/videos/10212867929867157/

  

And that is all I have to say...

Until the next time.

On the death of a parent.Does the pain ever subside?

The recent death of the father of a friend has spurred me to write this posting.
Although I have written other postings to my Dad,
they seemed to be more me than him.
In the greater scheme of things, parents are meant to die before the children.
That being said, it is never easy to accept,
especially when that death was totally unexpected.
This is what I remember...

At 21h00 on the 5th of October, 2004 I got a call from my Mom.
This call was to let me know that my Dad had had a massive stroke
and that the prognosis did not look good.
My Mom is a nurse and I could tell from her voice that I should prepare for the worst.
As my parents were in Port Elizabeth and I was in Johannesburg,
getting there at that time of night was not an option.
My daughter, who was 19, was living with me at the time
 had to be prepared for what seemed the inevitable outcome.
And I had to try to find my sister who was in Europe...
This was in the days before the internet connectivity we currently have.
No Facebook or What's App to turn to.
Just a land line and countless phone calls...
I waited for more news...and finally it came.
This is the email that I send as soon I had put down the phone...
Reading in now, it seems just as surreal as it did when I wrote it in 2004.

Hi Guys,
Just to let you know that my Dad(78) died at 01h00 this morning (06/10/2004)
He had suffered a massive stroke earlier in the evening 
and he died in hospital without regaining consciousness.
From the way that my Mom described it he did fight, just a little,
towards the end and then he let go...
It is very strange for me to write this as it has not really sunk in yet.
Feeling that the call was all a dream or a mistake.
But I know that it was not.
Take care, love to you all.

My Dad has been gone for 14 years now, but the pain remains.
I don't think that we ACTUALLY appreciate our parents enough when they are alive.
What did my Dad teach me?

You certainly gave me a good grounding in a variety of life lessons.

Having spent 36 years with the same company,

 you could not understand my reasons for me changing jobs every couple of years!

Having said that, he only enjoyed the first six...

the next thirty were just to keep a roof over our heads,

and food on the table.

I remember calling him the day after he retired and asking him how he felt

about handing back the keys and walking away...

He told me that it had been the best day of his life!

That aside, he was always supportive of what ever I undertook...

He believed that I should have a "proper" job to fall back on,

just in case my chosen life path did not work out.

Hence my doing an electrical apprenticeship,

which has stood me in good stead when times have been tough.


My Dad had wanted to be cremated, and although not traditionally condoned
by our Jewish faith, we respected his wishes.
My sister, daughter and I had flown down from Johannesburg to attend the ceremony,
however we were informed that the actual cremation would not take place for a while,
so we returned to our homes and I said that I would come back to collect the ashes
as my Mom did not feel the need to keep them.
When I flew back to Johannesburg I tried to get my Dad posthumously upgraded to business class.
The airline staff, when seeing the box containing the ashes,
were prepared to upgrade him, but not me!
So we both flew home in economy...


Some months after his death I asked my Mom if he had harboured any unfulfilled dreams.
She told me that he had always wanted to join a circus.
I have fond memories of watching Barnum and Baileys and Ringling Brothers Circus,
at Madison Square Gardens in NYC in 1978 with him.
It so happens that there was a circus in town.
I ha a chat to the ring master and the pill bottle containing the ashes,
formed part of the trapeze act in a matinee.
I have a signed certificate to the effect that he had performed posthumously.
A first for the circus, and a dream fulfilled for my Dad.
Better late than never.
It might seem that I am being disrespectful,
however, those who knew my Dad will agree that he would have loved it!

I did not want to give my sister all of the remains, so I kept some in a sealed pill bottle.

This bottle went with me to the top of Kilimanjaro in 2006.

I did not scatter the ashes there as the mountain meant nothing to my Dad.

But it made me feel as though he was guiding my feet and keeping me safe.

This is my Dad's wedding ring that I have worn every day since his death.

I am grateful that he got to meet my wife(then girlfriend) before his death.

We all had lunch in June of 2004, he died in October

His ring has become mine, and I suppose part of him is with me on a daily basis

It was in this handmade pot that my wife made that I finally scattered the ashes.
Two years after he died I heard a voice say "Now"...
and I got up, unsealed the bottle and said my final goodbyes.

This Hybrid succulent in the pot was planted in his honour.

It usually flowers every year on the anniversary of his death.
There was a period of two years where it did not flower,
and I took that to be a message that he had moved on.
A so should I...

Last year the flowers returned...in the biggest display in 12 years.

I was hoping that would last until his birthday,31/12,

but the last one disappeared just before Christmas.

This is the cover of the story of my Dad that I am currently writing.

Will I ever finish it? I am uncertain.

Does it really need to be completed? Possibly not.

At present it is merely a vehicle for some of what I felt about his life,

and his death.

For me, the part of his passing that hurt me the most occurred 4 days before he died.

As I usually did, I had called my folks on the Saturday and towards the end of

the conversation I asked my Mom where my Dad was.

"He is at Art in the Park" she told me. 

This was a monthly market at a local park within walking distance of their apartment.

"Tell Dad I say Hi", was my response.

"I will talk to him next Saturday"...

But that never happened, he died in the early hours of Wednesday morning.

This phrase was to haunt me for more than a year.

Why did I not say "Tell him I send love"?

To this day I have no answer.

It was not that we were always close, 

but we had come to the realization in the preceding 5 years or so

that to actually say "I love you" or for that matter to hug and kiss was acceptable.

But the transition from handshake to close physical contact had not been an easy one.

It came to a head when my folks were returning to Port Elizabeth by train.

At the station, before they were about to board,

my Dad, in his usual fashion, put out his hand to shake mine.

"Enough" I said, and gave him an unexpected hug.

"That is how we will do it from now on"...

Let on that fateful Saturday I merely said

"Tell him I say Hi"...

This was read at his memorial service.

DEATH IS NOTHING AT ALL.

by Canon Henry Scott Holland

Death is nothing at all,

I have only slipped into the next room.

I am I, and you are you,

Whatever we were to each other, that we still are.

Call me by my old familiar name,

Speak to me in the easy way you always used.

Put no difference into your tone,

Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as you always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.

Play, smile, think of me…

Pray for me.

Let my name be the household name it always was,

Let it be spoken without effect,

Without a trace of shadow on it.

Life means all that it ever meant,

It is the same as it ever was.

There is absolutely unbroken continuity.

Why should I be out of your mind, because I am out of your sight?

I am but waiting for you for an interval,

Somewhere very near…

Just around the corner.

All is well!

My Dad gave me my love of the performing arts.

Hence this tribute tattoo symbolizing the happy and sad theatre masks.

I don't necessarily think about my Dad every day,

and I am OK with that... now.

But often I will feel the need to call him to "share".

Or tears and sadness will fall over me like a cloak.

These moments do not last long, 

but they are a reminder that although he has been gone for a long time

I still wish he was here to enjoy his grand daughter and her achievements...