My 70th birthday cake was made by a local Marloth Park baker.

Based on the fact that living in South Africa is more affordable for Americans than most parts of the world, we felt we could “lick our wounds” from the expensive Antarctica cruise on which we’d embarked on January 23, 2018. When the cruise ended, we headed straight to Marloth Park.

Little did we know, at the time, that we’d be here months after our anticipated “moving on” date, which was planned for February 15, 2019, based on requirements made by immigration.

It was a good plan. At the time, we had no reason to believe our whole world would topple upside down, tossing dreams to the wind while losing tons of money for prepaid and prebooked venues to include flights, cruises, hotels, and tours.  

Kathy in the foreground, Ken in the background.

Fortunately, we didn’t have to cancel any holiday homes during this period, and Louise was able to accommodate our extended stay in the Orange house for three more months than expected while I’d recover.

So, my dream of spending my 70th birthday and ultimately more time in Marloth Park was fulfilled. Little did we know at the time that I’d spent my 71st birthday in the ICU of a small South African hospital. I hardly remember that day.  

It had only been a week since I’d awaken in the recovery room, the second of four times in a few months, intubated, struggling, and in massive amounts of pain. How did I ever get to this place?

Mick at the end of the table.  Look at that great plate of food; steak, butternut, and creamed spinach.

Now, almost nine weeks since the bypass surgery on February 12th, from which I’ve recovered well except for my legs, for which I continue to struggle with pain, discomfort, and frustration. The slow healing of my infected legs, for which I had to return to the hospital for five more days and have two more surgeries, has left me wondering when I’ll be able to walk again without pain.

Over my head, these past weeks have been the frustration over getting the insurance company to pay the ZAR 700000, US $50,223, to the hospital for the major of the four operations for which they’ve only spent a portion at this point.

Remaining unpaid now is the balance on the bypass surgery and our prepaid costs for the overnight stay in the hospital for the angiogram at ZAR 80000, US $5740, and the subsequent five-day hospital stays for two surgeries on my legs at ZAR 130000, US $9327.  

My large Greek salad.

With a ZAR 27876, US $2000, copays required on each of the three above hospitalizations, the insurance company owes us ZAR 210000, US $15044  less the two deductible amounts we paid out of pocket, leaving a balance owed to us for ZAR 154,250, US$11067. (We’d already paid the copay on the bypass surgery).

Based on the insurance company’s lack of cooperation in paying the claims, we’re not optimistic we’ll see reimbursement on any of these claims. Regardless of our speculations today, I started filing the claim for first, the angiogram, and secondly for the leg surgeries and additional five-day hospitalization.

Our friend Dawn, owner of Jabula, and her server are bringing in the birthday cake.

We didn’t want to file the angiogram claim until we knew the bypass surgery amount had been paid. Trudy, the knowledgeable and helpful billing manager at Mediclinic Hospital, did everything she could to assist in this process.

I have forwarded the portion of the form to be completed by the cardiologist and returned to us via email. Once we receive this, we’ll be able to submit the completed forms for that portion.

Staff and friends were singing the birthday song.

Right now, we’re awaiting the total bill for the hospitalization and two surgeries on my legs. Once we receive this, we can file the claim for this portion. Oh, my, the paperwork.  

We often wonder how seniors and others who don’t have access to technology or may find this type of paperwork challenging to comprehend and complete could handle the necessary processes. It has taken me weeks to gain sufficient motivation and clear-headedness to feel like doing this but a 90-day timeline to file the first claim is hanging over my head which ends on May 10th.

I would have started this sooner, but I needed to know that the bulk of the bypass surgery was paid. I found this out on Friday, a few days ago. Now we’re able to proceed.

Danie to the far left, Lynne was bending down, Don at the head of the table with Ken beside him. Louise and Linda were there but not in the photos.

When I think of all the receipts I’ve yet to record and scan before we leave here in 26 days, I cringe. But once these insurance claims are made, I will begin the painstaking process. Under normal conditions, I record receipts every few days, but lately, that hasn’t been on my radar.

Have a great start to the week, and be well.

Photo from one year ago today, April 15, 2018:

A southern ground hornbill we spotted in Kruger National Park. For more photos, please click here.

Lots of zebras in the garden.

After doing considerable research from highly reputable online medical resources and speaking with my three doctors, cardiologists, cardiothoracic surgeons, and general practitioners, my risks aren’t considerably higher for blood clots, DVT (deep vein thrombosis), or other such occurrences than the general population on long flights.

We’ve yet to book our flight but will do so in the next few days. As a safety precaution, we’re considering booking “business class” to ensure I will be able to lay down during the overnight portion of the flight and give my still recovering legs a chance to be up for better blood flow.

Plus, I will be wearing the strongest of my three pairs of compression stockings, drinking plenty of water, and setting the timer on my phone to remind me to get up and walk around the plane at least once an hour when I’m not sleeping. These simple measures should significantly reduce the risk of an incidence on the aircraft or after that.

The most kudus we had in the garden was 26.  What a busy morning that was!

It’s not unusual for open-heart surgery patients to be apprehensive about flying long distances after their surgery.  But, the fact that I am feeling well after the bypass surgery is a definite plus. However, the still painful condition in my legs is another concern.

Most of the higher risk scenarios are those which include some surgery to the lower limbs. After two leg surgeries, less than six weeks before the flights concerns us more than the bypass surgery.

But, the reality remains, we must leave South Africa. The fact we are going to Ireland instead of the US holds little significance. After reading online at several sites, it appears riding long distances in a car is equally risky after surgery when one is cramped, with legs down and little, if any, movement.

The drive from the Dublin airport to the holiday rental in Connemara is approximately four hours.  \We’ll make a point of stopping several times along the way so I can walk around and stretch my legs, especially after the long flights.

Little is not the only wild animal that’s climbed the steps to the veranda. This zebra had some lofty ideas about finding food.

For more on flying after major surgery, please click here or click here for further information.

I’m not going to get myself into a frenzy regarding traveling long distances after the recent surgeries. Instead, with the recommendations by my doctors, who are confident it is safe for me to fly, we’re hoping for a seamless and positive experience.

As an aside, we’ve begun adding favorite photos to our posts from our over 14 months in South Africa, visiting Botswana, Zambia, and Zimbabwe.  With literally thousands of photos to go through, we’ll make every effort to pick those our readers may enjoy seeing one last time.

Thank you, dear readers, for following along with us not only for the extended period in one location (which we don’t plan to repeat anytime shortly) and for staying with us during this recent medical crisis.  Your loyalty and continued support mean the world to both of us.

Have a pleasing Sunday!

Photo from one year ago today, April 14, 2018:

Seeing a crocodile in the wild is quite exciting. This croc sat there for a very long time with its mouth open.  For more photos, please click here.

But, in the realm of things, maybe it’s not. Perhaps it has to do with our innate sense, however un-obvious, that we possess the ability to see what’s on the horizon and possibly make such a statement as a prediction of what is yet to come.

For whatever reason, when we make these statements, we often regret saying them later, wishing we’d kept our enthusiasm to ourselves. Two months before I was diagnosed with three 100% blocked coronary arteries, I found myself espousing how the past year in Africa was the happiest year of my life.

Ms. Bushbuck and helmeted guineafowls.

And then, without warning, the whirlwind of tests, surgeries, and medical treatments began at the end of January and is yet to resolve fully. What happened to the “happiest year of my life?”  

Is that gone now that it’s tinged with this cacophony of frightening and horrific life-threatening, life-altering experiences in the past almost three months? Are the experiences of late going to prevent me, in future conversations, from ever saying the year we spent in South Africa, specifically Marloth Park and regions, is a blur of pain, fear, and financial loss?

At this point, I’m not sure. I recall saying this was the “happiest year of my life” no less than a dozen times in the months before the four surgeries.  Why did I even say this?

In part, since most of these comments were made to residents of Marloth Park, it was done to support the love and passion our friends feel living in this magical place.  

Big Daddy was looking for pellets.

What a wonderful feeling to hear from a friend that a life choice you’ve made to have a residence in another part of the world is also favored by others. In a way, it boosts their confidence that they made such a “right” decision to live in “Wonderland.”

For dear friends Louise and Danie, who are South African, who live in Marloth Park and who are also our landlords, my saying this statement gives them a sense of pride about that which they love and cherish…extolling the virtues of the excellent taste of others.

Nonetheless, I said it, “It was the best year of my life,” living in Marloth Park from February 11, 2018, to February 2, 2019, the day Dr. Theo discovered I have coronary artery disease. And, in essence, it was.

The wildlife, the friendships, the small-town atmosphere, and the simplicity of living “outside the box” in such a remote and unusual location where wild animals wander about the neighborhood, the bush, and ultimately one’s garden was truly spectacular.  

Big Daddy, male bushbuck, and a male duiker were sharing harmoniously.

Nothing can take those memories from me; The cold winter nights when we used the outdoor heater so we could stay outside on the veranda to visit with our animal friends; the trips into Kruger that took our breath away; the sight of Little climbing the steps to find me; and now, to see Mom and Babies, with the fourth piglet, the one who sits down to eat, has finally been reunited with his family.

Adding to all of that and more are the many evenings we spent with friends, partaking in “sundowners,” fabulous dinners, great conversations, and a feeling of really belonging and being a part of this unique environment. Nothing will take that away.

And the past almost three months?  In time, it will fade into oblivion as many bad experiences do, leaving but a trace of wondering why it ever had to happen.
Certainly, it wasn’t due to the fact I’d said, “It was the happiest year of my life.”

Be well. Be happy.

Photo from one year ago today, April 13, 2018:

There’s nothing as heartwarming as any animal, and it’s young, especially baby elephants. For more photos, please click here.

Getting down the steps to the car was tricky as I was walking from the closest parking spot at the doctor’s office to the treatment room inside. This was the most amount of walking I’d done in the week since we’d seen Dr. Theo last Friday.

A young male bushbuck and young male kudu.

The vacuum tube and machine had done their job, and the gaping hole was closing. Theo determined there would be no added benefit to continue using the VAC system, and he disconnected it and re-bandages my legs with the special bacteria-fighting bandages.

Free of the tether, I felt liberated but foolhardy me, made the assumption I could walk a little more without the VAC attached. How wrong I was! After moving around too much in the afternoon, I’m now back on bedrest today with my feet up once again. There’s continuing pain that needs time to resolve. I must be patient.

Also, the added pain of wearing the tight compression stockings (six more weeks) atop the wounds woke me during the night at 3:30 am, and I never went back to sleep.

Doc Theo is confident I am on the mend, but it will become a reality when I can get around on my own two legs without the walker. At the time of the bypass surgery, I recall grumbling about the big scar on my chest up to my throat.  

Warthogs don’t seem to mind hanging out with tiny duikers, although they don’t readily share pellets.

With my local girlfriend’s love and support, we contemplated how I could hide the nasty scar with scarves, jewelry, and high-neck shirts and blouses. It wasn’t so much about having a scar as it was about being stared at or asked questions by glaring strangers.

But as time has passed and the scar has continued to heal, it’s become less noticeable, and above all, I’ve become less self-conscious about it. I won’t be wearing low-cut tops showing cleavage since I was never one to do this anyway, but I won’t be fussing over the scar showing on my neck. I’m alive, aren’t I? That’s what counts in the realm of things.

Then, as the infection ravaged my legs, I became aware that the scars would only be exacerbated by the infections. Over time, that awareness has wafted away as well.  

After all, I’m 71 years old and wouldn’t be traipsing around in skimpy clothing anyway. I may be more inclined to wear long pants and jeans rather than Capri-length pants and shorts, other than around the house with just the two of us.  

A young Big Daddy with growing left to do.

Tom, of course, pays no attention whatsoever to the many changes of late with my health and well-being his only consideration. Isn’t that what love is, after all? That we pay little attention as to how our physical beings change as we age, surgery or not?

Next Thursday, we’ll return to Doc Theo to see how it’s going and again replace the bandages. Once the wounds are healed, I’ll be able to shower once again instead of “sponge baths.” The less-than-ideal water in Marloth Park has kept me out of the shower since the infections began many weeks ago.

No-load shedding this past week, although there were a few power outages for short periods. A few days ago, we were out of water for a few hours. We leave Marloth Park in 29 days, during which we hope to have continuous power.

May your day be gratifying and fulfilling.

Photo from one year ago today, April 12, 2018:

This was the first time we saw Scar Face, one year ago.  He arrived with his friend, Mutton Chops, but after visiting for several months, we never saw them again. Hopefully, he’s healed nicely by now. For more photos, please click here.

Mongoose is trying to crack an egg.

Our friends have asked…what if my legs aren’t better?  How can we leave? My right leg is healed enough to be able to walk, while the left leg is problematic. If necessary, we’ll use a wheelchair at the various airports along the way, and once we arrive in Ireland, we’ll seek further medical treatment there if needed.

In other words, we’re leaving one month from today, and that’s all there is to it. I didn’t ever want to leave Marloth Park feeling as if we were anxious to go. After all, we are “world travelers,” and we aren’t seeing much of the world now.

Yes, I know, these unexpected and shocking series of medical woes and operations have thrown us off track, but once this left leg heals, nothing is holding us back from continuing. Every few years, I will arrange to see a cardiologist for a few tests to see how I’m doing.

My family, bless their hearts and good intentions, are adamant that we should return to the US, rent a place, and seek medical care. But, I refuse to be the perpetual patient and have absolutely no interest in moving to Scottsdale, Arizona, to be close to the Mayo Clinic.

A male bushbuck and a female duiker were sharing pellets.  Duikers are the smallest antelopes in Marloth Park and Kruger National Park.

Of course, we’ll be careful and most likely make our two to three-month stays in any country close to medical facilities if needed. We may not choose to live in the most remote areas of the world as we’ve done in the past. Nor will we limit ourselves to only visiting big cities.

There’s always a middle ground, always a compromise, and the world is a prominent place with so much we’ve yet to experience. I’m sure when we look back in years to come to these post-cardiac bypass years, we’ll have many beautiful memories with plenty of stories and photos to share with our worldwide readership.

The cardiac surgeon didn’t give me a good prognosis with the remaining bad arteries in my chest and around my heart, saying the surgery was a “band-aid,” a temporary fix. But, once any of us reaches our senior years, we have no idea how much time “we have left” and may choose to live every moment to the fullest. That’s precisely what we plan to do.  

Kudus in the garden this morning.

It becomes a question of quality instead of quantity, and we’ll always choose quality if that option is available to us.  No doubt, sometimes it is not. But, all of us can decide how we want to live our lives, the so-called “golden years” that wouldn’t be so bright and shiny if we were feeling trapped living in a condo near a hospital.

We remain grateful and hopeful for the future. May you choose to do the same.

Photo from one year ago today, April 11, 2018:

For this heartwarming story that unfolded before our eyes, an ostrich family reuniting…please click here. Notice dad coming their way from a distance.

Today, in this world of technology in which we’re entrenched, we see more human error situations than we’d seen in the distant past. Did employees formerly take more incredible pride in a “job well done” than they do today when they’re now almost entirely dependent upon technology performing many of their duties? Is that why so much falls through the cracks?

Oxpecker with an orange beak.

We often mention how we have to check and re-check scenario after scenario for accuracy and completion of most human-performed tasks in the workplace.
Recently, we’ve seen these types of problems cropping up more than usual.

Of course, diligent employees still go to any limits to ensure a positive experience for their customers. However, in the process, they, too, are often subject to ancillary support from other staff members who may not care as much as they do. And then, the entire cycle of errors and inaccuracies follows suit.

Twice, Wells Fargo sent us our renewing debit cards. Twice they were shipped “snail mail,” which we specified over and over would never get to us due to the poor postal system in South Africa. And yet, both times, they did the same thing.

Female kudu with oxpecker.

We told them to snail mail the cards to our mailing service in Nevada, USA, on our third request. Now we must bear the expense of sending the cards here to us via DHL International, never knowing if they will arrive on time before we leave in 35 days.

All of these types of issues must be handled over the phone. Why? Because of humans, not technology, that must correct these types of problems. We’ve found over the years that we can’t be assured the situations will be resolved when communicating by email.

Often, employees don’t bother to deal with their incoming email with the same priority over phone calls. Perhaps, someday this will change, but right now, it’s in its infancy. There’s a long way to go.

Mongooses are funny minor characters with lots of personalities.

If one analyzed the loss of revenue from human incompetency, the numbers would be astounding. Perhaps, it could be as much as the non-error revenue generated in the best of circumstances.

Oh, I’m not purporting I am exempt from making errors, as seen by my frequent typos in daily posts even after both of us have proofread the bars from top to bottom each day.  But fortunately, our typos aren’t costing our readers their hard-earned money or considerable time in figuring out what we “meant” to say.

When we’re overbilled or doubled billed, it becomes our responsibility to find the errors and spend the time getting the situation resolved. This becomes time-consuming and stressful.

Let’s face it…there’s no “free lunch.”  Almost every situation has the potential to become a tiresome and time-grabbing scenario.  If only we could sit back and depend on accuracy and competency to guide us through our future travels.

And the reality remains, travel is one of those areas where mistakes by humans are rampant. It is for this very reason. We don’t use travel agents. If there’s an error, we want to be able to blame ourselves and resolve it ourselves rather than spending time patronizing the well-intended travel agent who made a mistake and beating ourselves up for not catching it sooner.

In other words, when working with travel agents, one must verify the documents for accuracy and precision. And, of course, when acting as one’s travel agent, doing the same, checking and re-checking.

The marulas on the ground hold little interest in most of the wildlife.

While we were in the US in 2017, I booked a non-refundable flight for the wrong date while distracted by numerous plans and activities. There was nothing we could do but lose the money.  

Now, when booking cruises, holiday homes, flights, and rental cars, we always show one another the screen before completing the transaction. No one is exempt from making errors.  

Sadly, it’s all a part of the human condition. Sadly, blaming someone after the fact doesn’t negate our responsibility quickly resolves the issue(s).

Today, blessedly cool and cloudy, is yet another day in my recovery. I am working hard to avoid sitting in the same position for long periods due to bedsores in the area of my boney tailbone from lying with my feet up in the same place for the past seven days.

They pose in cute positions in hopes their adorableness will inspire us to feed them.  It does!

Our friend Uschi stopped by to loan us an egg crate mattress cover. This will be very helpful in reducing the risk of worsening the bedsores and developing more over the next 11 days and nights of total bed rest,

Why in the world didn’t I think of the possibility of bedsores a week ago? Should the doctors and nurses have addressed this potential issue with me when they saw me in the same position day after day during the five full days I spent in hospital after the two-leg surgeries.

I’d never had bedsores in my life, nor had I ever considered such a risk would have existed for such a short period. But, as mentioned above, blaming gets me nowhere. Resolving the issue is my only option, which requires using the cream the doctor prescribed, the egg crate mattress cover, sheepskin, and frequently changing positions to avoid placing more pressure on the area.

Last night, for the first time in over seven weeks, I was able to sleep on my side with pillows supporting my back. This side position causes discomfort in the still-healing sternum, but I can live with that. As long as I am moving forward a little each day, I am hopeful.

Tom is making pizza for himself today and avocado stuffed with shrimp salad for me. We hope you have a wonderful weekend!

Photo from one year ago today, April 6, 2018:

We could watch for hours and rarely see more than a hippo taking a quick breath of air at the hippo pool in Marloth Park.  We were lucky to get this shot.  For more details, please click here.