Remember how this series started? “Mistake will be reported until lesson learned.” And the lesson was “You can’t do it alone”. We are expanding on that today.
“You don’t have to do it alone”
As soon as I let people know I was in hospital, the offers of help started. The visits started. The gifts started. My work husband/wife (we are not sure who is who) brought soft food. He brought yoghurt (eating), yoghurt (drinking) and purity. Namesake brought chocolates which I gave to half the Angels. The other half got biltong and droëwors. Water and books were other thoughtful, practical gifts. Most people asked what they could bring or do. I mostly said, “no, I’m fine”. Then TireMan asked if there was stuff that needed to go in the bin at the flat.
I’ve known TireMan since long before he became TireMan. I got in early. Like the people who knew a young Bruce Wayne. As he asked, I realised there is a black bag with Chicken Licken bones on the kitchen floor that it would be better to get out. But I also realised the flat is a disaster zone. Nevertheless, I gave him the keys. And my friend of over 30 years cleaned the flat properly without being asked, took clothes to the laundry and was just a wonderful man. And he still talks to me.
Namesake came often. And I stayed with him and his lovey wife after getting out of hospital. I was scared of being on my own after everything that happened, and they provided support, even organising someone to be there during the day, when they were working. Those few days meant my recovery started off well. Then they had to go on holiday and they arranged a few days in the light care unit of an old age home.
In 1996 I stayed next to the inappropriately named Jeugland Ouetehuis. Not quite Autumn House or Last Chance Old Age Home, but still. I remember complaining that their 16:30 dinner bell disturbed my weekend afternoon naps. So here was an opportunity for a joke I could not pass on. Plus, some medical care.
Turns out more lessons were waiting.
Once again high praise for the staff who were nothing but kind, considerate and professional. Checking in I got asked questions about medical aid, funeral service provider, mobility and was it my own teeth. A reality check on many levels.
At breakfast everyone had their designated spot. Now it makes it easier to distribute the pills, but these people who have lived long lives were sitting like primary school children in a class. I would want to be able to sit where I want to and have breakfast with different people. And be with my friends. Not forced together with strangers by circumstances.
“Where were you before this?”, my elderly neighbour asked after introductions. The implication of that question rocked me. This is not where you start. This is way down the track. only a few stops left. In the end what was supposed to be a chance for a joke 28 years in the making, turned out to be a reminder to enjoy your mobility, your friends and your own teeth while they were there.
To everyone who called, texted, visited, brought stuff or offered to help at the time or after, my sincere and utter thanks. I hope that I have now learned that complete self-reliance is not the ultimate state. Because, dammit, I don’t want to learn this way again.
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