Adaptation required more now than ever…

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We were visiting the hornbill.  We haven’t put up the bird feeder due to the vervet monkeys monopolizing all the seeds.

“Sighting of the Day in the Bush”

A pretty bushbuck were resting in the bush.

Note: While I am immobile over the next few weeks, we’ll be adding photos we’d saved but had yet to post. Thank you so much for being so patient.

Over the years since we began our journey, we’ve often written about adaptation and how relevant it becomes in our daily lives: different cultures, different surroundings, different languages, and different modalities in living everyday life.

A confusion of cape buffalo on the Crocodile River.

Since returning from the hospital on Wednesday after two surgeries on my legs in three days and the prior triple coronary bypass surgery seven weeks ago, adaptation is knocking at our door.

How we lived a mere two months ago has all changed. No longer do I bolt out of bed in the morning, ready to tackle another day of wildlife watching and exploration with zest and passion. 

A giraffe, alone in the bush.

It’s now a laborious process to get from the bed to the bathroom while dragging along the cumbersome drain apparatus connected from the machine to my left leg, basically a thether that I cannot pull or drag without excruciating pain. 

 And the pain itself, after the two very recent surgeries, only adds to the awkwardness and complexity of moving around.  

A waterbuck was perusing his surroundings.

But, I continually remind myself…this is temporary, not permanent, when so many suffer from permanent disabilities that make the act of getting up in the morning an ordeal challenging to describe in its pain and complications for both the patient and the caregiver.  

 But everything is relative, and the person with the broken leg seldom thinks of the person with no leg. Our human ability to empathize seldom goes further than the nose in front of our face when we’re faced with our debilitating challenges, whether they are temporary or not.

Lots of kudus in our garden.

As I write this now and will again pick up later to complete, lying on the sofa in the living room, legs high on pillows, I’m somehow bathed and dressed to head to Dr. Theo’s office for a “treatment on my legs,” cleaning the machine,” replacing bandages and dealing with the slow-healing wounds.

 There’s a certain amount of trepidation on my part. How will he touch any of these outrageously tender areas on my legs without me writhing in pain? As it turned out, he was very gentle, and it didn’t hurt too badly.

At night, a kudu stopped by along with a duiker.

After being required to lie on my back with my feet up constantly, I’m now developing bedsores on my tailbone.  I’ve lost so much weight my boney tailbone is sharp and cutting.  

Doc Theo said this morning. I must change positions every hour, although it’s not easy to keep my feet above the level of my heart while lying on my side. I’ll have to figure it out. Doc gave me a prescription for a cream specifically for this purpose.

More waterbucks.

He said we must get some sheepskin for me to lie on, but the pharmacy was out and had to order it. It won’t arrive until Monday. Tom will drive back to Komatipoort to pick it up. 

There’s so much to do to deal with my recovery. In itself, it’s practically a full-time job. I don’t know what I’d do without Tom. Last night he made one of the most delicious home-cooked meals I’ve had, a perfectly roasted flattie chicken with vegetables, which we’ll have again tonight. I’m impressed! Who knew he could cook like this?

A waterbuck and cattle egret.

It’s 1300 hours (1:00 pm) now. We have the rest of “Day 2, Bed Rest” to lounge, play with our laptops, answer zillions of well-wishers email messages, and dream about the future, which amidst all this madness looks promising and bright.

Am I foolhardy in my optimism? No, I don’t think so. In reality, it’s this hopefulness and determination that will take us to our next adventure.

Be happy. Be hopeful and be well.

Photo from one year ago, April 5, 2018:
These leaves must have been delicious for this giraffe to be willing to bend “down” to eat when most often they stay at eye level or reach “up.” They will bend down to drink. For more photos, please click here.

Part 2…Hospital hell…I am not a celebrity but PLEASE, get me out of here!!!…Photos of my leg situation…

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Tom didn’t waste a moment once I was safely indoors in tossing them plenty of pellets.

“Sighting of the Day in the Bush”

Kudus is in the garden awaiting our return. Big Daddy is patiently waiting for his turn.

The hour and 20-minute drive from Nelspruit back to Marloth Park wasn’t easy. I had to keep my legs higher than my heart and could not sit in the front passenger seat. The only other option was to lie down in the tiny backseat with my head on a pillow and my feet propped up on the duffle bag. The small car was tricky and uncomfortable, but finally, I settled down, and the drive went smoothly.

Our biggest fear was trying to get me up the seven slippery steps to the veranda. It had rained, making the steps all the more slippery.  Gee…I wondered how Little makes it up there with his spikey toenails. But if Little can do it, so can I!

Tom held me tight against him, and I somehow managed to get to the veranda. In minutes we were inside the house, and I was lying on the bed, ready for the evening to pass quickly while we figured out a routine.

The plastic surgeon was adamant that my legs won’t heal if I don’t keep my feet up around the clock. Only short trips to the bathroom, the bed, and the sofa are allowed. In actuality, this is much harder to maneuver than it was when I returned home from the bypass surgery.

I now have a plastic tube attached to my left leg,  and the machine requires recharging that will last unplugged for five hours. However, with the frequent power outages, we realize it needs to stay plugged in constantly. 

Fortunately, a thoughtful Marloth Park neighbor loaned me a sturdy walker with a basket. I can unplug the machine, place it in the basket and get to the bathroom unaided. This makes a huge difference in the amount of time Tom has to spend helping me.

Don’t get me wrong. He has to tend to my every need, except bathroom breaks, around the clock. After all this recent experience, he’s pretty good at this, but, of course, it’s hard for me to ask for every little thing.

Kudus, by far, are our most frequent visitors.

He will be on photo-taking duty and pellet distribution since it’s too far for me to hobble to the veranda and back. I have to stay off my feet for two weeks until it is healed further and I can freely walk again. I can’t wait until that day comes.

As for the continuation of hospital hell, I can’t get as wrapped up in telling that story as I’d planned. Now that we’re checked out after a harrowing experience yesterday, it was on my mind to be free of it to focus on the matters at hand.

All I can say is I checked out, once again, earlier than planned to escape the rampant incompetency by some, not all, of the nursing staff in the main hospital. This time, I wasn’t in the ICU ward but in a nice room by myself.

Regardless of the room I was in for five days before and after two surgeries, the experience was dreadful 50% of the time. Bedridden, required to use a bedpan, on an IV drip, making it necessary to use the bedpan once an hour, the situation was often dreadful when the nurse/sister had little interest in helping me. I must stress that some of them were thoughtful, respectful, and kind.

But, there’s a faction in that low-paying job of disinterested and disdain for patients, and I often waited for extended periods for a bedpan or assistance in getting off one. I don’t know what the designer of a bedpan was thinking, but these hard plastic contraptions don’t work well if one doesn’t have a lot of excess meat on their buttocks. Being left on one of these for 20 to 30 minutes was painful.

The distribution of pain medication was inconsistent, often requiring I press the buzzer three or four times in an effort to get a nurse to assist, with no results. When the pain got out of control, the smaller doses were ineffective in bringing it back down to a manageable level.

Keeping in mind, no potent narcotics are used on patients for fear of addiction. Instead, they use a Tylenol/Paracetamol combination with a very tiny dose of a prescription pain killer…we’re talking about 15% of a normal dose. These were administered by IV.

My right leg is bandaged and covered with a compression stocking.  The left leg has yet to improve with the help of the attached machine that sucks out excess fluid and continually cleanses the wound. Both legs have been stitched with stitches that will have to be removed at some point. The left leg is considerably more painful at this point.

Oh, the Paracetamol does have the potential to assist with pain but never to the degree of narcotic medications when it is administered regularly, but not all of us are prone to addiction, and I’d rather have been in less pain knowing I’d be able to stop taking any narcotics without a problem.

Now back at Marloth Park, I have a prescription for the low-dose narcotic and high doses of Paracetamol, which works for a few hours. Hopefully, the pain will dissipate soon, which I fully expect within days. After all, I just had two surgeries within three days and expected some discomfort.

We checked out on Wednesday, but on Monday night, after the fiasco with the “lift” not working, after my second surgery, by the time I got back to my room after 2100 hours (9:00 pm), my dinner was spoiled from sitting out for four hours in the hot room.

The restaurant was closed, and there was no way to get me anything suitable to eat. This same scenario transpired after the first leg surgery and also the bypass surgery, all of which occurred late in the day.

Just in time, Tom made it to a local restaurant to return with a wonderful chicken, avo, and bacon salad that got me through the night. At that point, I hadn’t had a morsel of food in 28 hours. It felt good to finally eat something.

I had to literally beg for a nurse to provide me with pain medication. The prescription was on my chart. There was no reason to postpone giving it to me.  By 2300 hours (11:00) pm, I was writhing in pain and finally had a small bag of medication hung on the IV rack and inserted into my IV line.

Thirty minutes passed with no relief. I found that when I lifted my arm, the precious pain medication was running onto the floor from my IV line. If I say, it took more than two hours to get someone to come and replace my IV line in my hand. I kept buzzing nurses, and they’d look at me dumbfounded when I explained the situation over and over again to no avail.

The tube is attached close to my ankle bone which bore the worst of the infection and is now entirely gone but must close and heal.

By 2:00 am, I was finally hooked up, but the pain was out of control, and the weak solution had little to no effect. I dozed once at 4:00 for about a half-hour, but that was it. At 5:00 am, the tea cart came around, and I opted for a cup of tea to get my mind off of my discomfort.

The checkout process yesterday was equally outrageous. We were ready to leave by 9:00 am but with the doctor not showing until almost noon (checkout time), the take-home meds and instructions and supplies for Doc Theo to treat me over the next few weeks, we didn’t get out there until 1400 hours, (2:00 pm). I couldn’t have been more thrilled to get on our way. Tom was equally frustrated.

It feels good to be back, even with the limitations. I’m up, bathed (sponge bath), and dressed for the day, wearing a casual nightgown dress that will accommodate the tube hanging from my left leg. I included the photos to illustrate the complexity of maneuvering with this attachment for the next two weeks.

Tomorrow morning, we have an appointment with Dr. Theo for the next part of the treatment. He’s worked with this plastic surgeon many times in the past and has considerable experience in working with the device that’s currently in my left leg. We’ll see him every five days over the next month.

Now…how are we doing? The insurance company has yet to pay any of these bills, now totaling nearly ZAR 1,000,000, US $70,467. Undoubtedly, this is a big concern. The bill for the special bandages for use with the machine, not included in the above total, is ZAR 23654, US $1667. Unreal.

Somehow, through all this craziness, we’re staying positive and looking to the future while hoping in the next few weeks, we’ll be able to put some of this medical strife behind us.

Again, thanks to our family, friends, and readers for their continuing love and support. The love has been instrumental in helping us optimistically move forward during this challenging time in our world travels.

May your day bring you health and harmony.

Photo from one year ago today, April 4, 2018:

Such a big scary world out there!  For more photos, please click here.

Part 1…Hospital hell…I am not a celebrity but PLEASE, get me out of here!!!…

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This frequent visitor, a male bushbuck, has the “Got some pellets” look in his eyes.

“Sighting of the Day in the Bush”

Maybe it’s like the bar. The boys stop by for a few and get along well.

I prefer not to bash or critique any small or medium business entity. Their success is often predicated by positive word of mouth. Over these past five days in Mediclinic, we’ve seen and been involved in several situations that didn’t have to happen. 

I didn’t want to sugarcoat mine and Tom’s experiences with a plethora of gobbly gook in this particular case. That’s not to imply we aren’t honest about situations we encounter. We make every effort to tell it like it is.
It simply means in my “overly bubbly” manner, I can dwell on the good points and benefit from the doubt on the not-so-good points. After four surgeries in seven weeks, I am ready to put aside my usual patience and understanding to tell it like it is.
First off, I will say the doctors are competent and dedicated to working for a relatively low income compared to doctors in many other parts of the world.
But their hands have been tied by a lack of competency and caring by many employees and outdated inferior systems.
The head of the billing department, Trudy, has gone over the top to work with our difficult insurance company who is still looking for an out to pay the claims total of almost ZAR 1,000,000, US 70,822. She’s remained steadfast in her determination to get this resolved to our benefit.
Upon returning after a time away, we often find bushbucks in the garden seemingly waiting for us. Tomorrow won’t be any different.

I won’t begrudge the hospital and medical center for their lack of modern technology and systems but acknowledge the harsh reality of their low charges based on affordability by the national health care system and the general public.

There are exemplary nurses (referred to as sisters) beyond one’s wildest expectations of sheer perfection. Then, others begrudgingly report to work each day, wishing it was over the moment they walk in the door with little care or concern for the well-being of the patients.

As for the fiascos, since we arrived this past Friday, we started with the problem of running any of our credit cards to pre-pay the hospital bill for treatment and surgeries for my infected legs as a result of the coronary bypass surgery of seven weeks ago for an amount of ZAR 130000, US $9206. 

If the amount they collect is an overpay, they return the excess to our credit card, or the opposite is we didn’t pay enough. But I assure you, they collect an ample amount at the onset, and unless there’s some unforeseen medical issue, one can usually expect a refund in part.

Mom and Baby Bushbuck have been around for many months.

The over an hour we spent at one of the admission desks, one credit card after another, while I contacted each of the companies, only to find out, not to our surprise, nothing was wrong. However, one of the card companies suspected fraud and removed the hold on the card once we contacted them. 

But still, as mentioned in an earlier post, the charges wouldn’t go through on any of the cards. Frustration giving both of us dry mouths and profuse sweating came abruptly when I asked the admission rep to use a different portable card reader. 

Yep, moments later, the first card we tried worked. Why didn’t we think of this earlier when this has happened on several other occasions. TIS…this is Africa…this stuff happened here, like load shedding electrical outages, bad water, no water, poor internet connections, and on and on. So that was the foot we started on.

There were numerous, too many to list, incidences with nursing staff that I dismissed as usual. This wasn’t the ICU where each patient had a highly qualified nurse who attended to the patient’s every need and a doctor who masterfully treated those patients in distress the moment an issue arrived.  On many occasions, she was there for me…including an afternoon after the surgery was my pulse nearly reached 250 beats per minute.

She immediately assured me and told me she would “knock me out” for at least two hours while she’s restarted by heart with paddles. My typical manner of awakening right after surgery was no different when 10 minutes after the jolt, I was wide awake, mentioning how the time flew and how good my heart was to be back to the normal rhythm at about 68 beats per minute.

We stand back when dropping pellets to Big Daddy. Those horns could inadvertently do a lot of damage.

Talk about being grateful. Once again, I was saved, and throughout the eight days and nights in ICU, several similar situations arose, only to bring me, so I feared, to the brink of death and back again. (Sorry, no white lights, a tunnel, or people calling my name).

Then we moved forward to last night after my second leg surgery in four days which commenced around 1700 hours (5:00 pm). For the fourth time in seven weeks, I awoke in the recovery room to similar surroundings, a space that felt more like a warehouse than a hospital recovery room.

Oh, it was clean and sterile, to the point of never allowing a non-medical professional or outsider into its sacred halls.  One could smell the powerful cleaners used to keep it meticulous and never saw a doctor or nurse without masks and scrubs. 

Lying there, wide awake only a short time after the surgery ended around 1900 hours (7:00 pm), I scanned the huge hall checking out signs, boxes, and packages of medical supplies and the hurried frenzy of medical personnel diligently doing their jobs.

After an hour passed, during which I was checked several times, I asked when I could go back to my room where Tom was surely waiting to see me. I was told “soon” on several occasions. 

The girls keep a distance from Big Daddy, but he doesn’t mind sharing pellets with them/

After another 15 minutes passed, I became suspicious about why I wasn’t heading back to my room on the second floor. I grabbed the hand of a kindly-looking nurse and said, “Spill the beans, sister, please. What’s going on.”

She hedged, fearful of upsetting a  patient just of surgery, of telling me that the only lift (elevator) had broken down and there was no way to get me up to my floor and subsequently my room. They’d roll me each way and into the lift in this easily portable bed. Modern, right?

I hadn’t eaten a thing or drank a sip of water other than for my new handful of tablets I now take each morning. I was starving, and my doctor had been complaining about my weight and how it didn’t look as if I’d been eating. Well, after all these surgeries, I had gone down quite a bit, although I tried eating more and more.

The body is so busy trying to heal itself after surgeries. One tends to lose weight easily. Gee…I thought of Bill Clinton and how skinny and sickly he was looked since his bypass surgery in 2010. Please don’t let that be me. I’m working on it, eating as much as I can, even with the non-cooperating limited appetite that goes with the territory.

Back to the lift incident, I explained that the only elevator was being worked on and could or could not be ready by the end of the night. There was no way I wanted to spend my night with nothing to do, wide awake, pain escalating in my legs from the surgery, and not a bite to eat in well over a day.

No food or drinks are allowed in the recovery room regardless of the circumstances.

Another Big Daddy enters the garden.

At one point, I asked for Tom, and moments later, they wheeled me in the bed to a non-sterile area to see him. He, too, was feeling frustrated. He could get to my room via the stairs, but I wouldn’t be there with him. What was the point?

They only left us together for a few minutes as we discussed the lack of lift, and then they wheeled me back to my station, a designated spot on the cement floor. Tom had left to see what was going on, and I had no idea how to find him, even if the lift got going and I was back in my room.

Alas, over two total hours, nursing staff came running to my bed, all talking rapidly in a language I didn’t understand and then in English said to me, “Let’s go, your first up!”

I guess this meant the lift was working again, and as they ran with my bed, I suddenly felt like a character in “Bedknobs and Broomsticks,” a kid’s movie from 1971.

The elevator’s doors miraculously opened, and there inside stood a man in a one-piece grey jumpsuit.  “Who are you?” I asked. He answered, “I’m the lift technician.”  

Suddenly I felt more at ease. If he’s willing to ride on it, so was I. With a bit of groaning and grunting, the lift slowly took off to go up one floor. There was a considerable pause when we reached floor two, and I thought, “Oh, no, now we’ll be stuck.”

I was stuck in an elevator in the early 1980s at the Mayo Clinic for over an hour and had to jump down between floors to escape, while wearing a dress only to have “old codgers” leering up my dress as I jumped down, wearing Candy’s high-heeled shoes, popular at the time. I’ll never forget that experience.

And here I was again, this time wearing a hospital gown, with bandages and tubes in my legs, fresh out of surgery. Ha! Who’s the old codger now?

We made it and as soon as my bed exited the lift, I saw Tom waiting for me.  The first thing he said was, “There’s a story for you, Sweetie?” Who knew? I laughed, and indeed it was my second such situation with an elevator in two medical clinics on two sides of the world.

As for the surgery itself, it went well. Tomorrow, we’ll be going home with lots of restrictions I’ll share in detail, along with Part 2 of Hospital Hell, when the fun began to unfold.

Please check back.

Have a safe day!

Photo from one year ago today, April 2, 2018:

When we went to lunch at the Border Café with Danie and Louise, Danie ordered this dish called, Eisbein, a roasted pork knuckle; it looked delicious. For more photos, please click here.

Second surgery today…Movin’ right along…April Fool’s Day…

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We howled when these baby helmeted guineafowl became frightened when a warthog entered the garden, and they flew into the tree, each pair facing a different direction.

“Sighting of the Day in the Bush”

Male kudus, Big Daddies, often hang around together.

A year ago, today was Easter, and we attended the Marloth Park Easter Fair; while we ran into many locals, we’ve come to know and enjoyed checking out all the booths with the variety of wares from vendors from nearby afar.  

Of course, it was April Fool’s Day, as it is again today, an occasion for which we have little interest in participating. At this point, neither of us is interested in any surprises! We’ve had our share.

Today is the third day I’ve spent in a hospital while the infections in my legs are treated by various means, along with a few surgeries to debride the dead flesh and work on the wounds by a competent plastic surgeon.Later today, I went to the “theatre” (as they say here in South Africa) for my second surgery. Fortunately, based on what the doctor told us this morning, this will be the last surgery on my legs. Once I recover for a few days, we’ll be heading back to Marloth Park.

Many of our loyal readers have kindly written with the warmest of wishes and prayers. Many are asking how we’re holding up. Tom has been doing better than I expected. This is undoubtedly difficult for him. We both have been under stress over all of these surgeries, their outcomes, and their costs.

The insurance company has yet to pay for the angiogram and bypass surgery or this current hospitalization. We wait with bated breath hoping they will come through. No doubt, this has been a significant stressor for both of us.

Guineafowls often gather near the clothesline. Go figure.

If ever there was a time a couple could get testy, it would be now. But, we both work hard to stay closely connected and supportive of one another as we muddle our way through these issues. Somehow, we’ve managed to stay on track, maintaining a decent attitude while striving to keep our solid relationship solid and meaningful.

As mentioned in yesterday’s post, for the best ultimate long-term results, we both are letting go of the worry, stress, and concern and simply moving forward, grateful for what we do have instead of what we don’t. That’s not easy to do, but the results we’ll reap will be many.

I just returned from a walk with the physical therapist. We’re both pleased I could walk for about 10 minutes. The only thing holding me back is the pain in both legs. Otherwise, I’d certainly be able to do at least the 40 minutes I’d been doing at home.  

Soon enough, I’ll be back at it even after losing a little ground due to today’s surgery that will keep me down for about 48 hours. We’re both optimistic. We’re both hoping we can go home well before the weekend.

May you have a fun and playful April Fool’s Day if you partake in its pranks and playful antics.

Be well.

Photo from one year ago today, April 1, 2018:

Last year’s Easter Fair in the bush with various styles of artwork on display. For more fine details, please click here.

Resolving current issues…Letting go…

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Big Daddy was contemplating his next move.

“Sighting of the Day in the Bush”

And, here are our girls!

I can’t wait to get back to Marloth Park. Our animal friends filled our days and nights in awe and wondered while our human friends enriched our lives in more ways than we can count.

Still in the hospital, dealing with the insurance company who’s yet to pay the hospital bill of ZAR 80000, US $5518, for the angiogram (we paid out of pocket), the hospital bill for ZAR 700000, US $48,185, and now yesterday’s prepayment for this current hospital stay at ZAR 130000, US $8967, for which we also paid out-of-pocket.
 

Undoubtedly, all of this has added to the stress and concern over my recent triple coronary bypass surgery. Add the fact that our two debit/ATM cards have been issued and then re-issued when on two occasions they’ve been lost in the mail and by Fex Ex International according to our bank in the US.

Currently, we’re living in a foreign country with no working debit/ATM card and have no way to access our bank accounts for cash. We reordered the cards yesterday to be sent to our mailing service in Nevada, and we’ll have them ship them to us via overnight delivery by DHL. 

Frank and The Mrs. sharing pellets with the guineafowl who’ve recently returned to our garden after being away for a few months.

In reality, there’s no such thing as overnight delivery here in South Africa. We expect it will take a week to receive them. I could go on and on about other recent issues primarily fueled by incompetence and neglect by various entities. Still, the reality remains clear in my mind. It’s time to let all of this go and return to the issue of our happy, fulfilling lives on the move.

We always knew that health issues would halt our travels either permanently or for a while at some point. The period occurred upon us on February 2nd when Dr. Theo did an exercise stress test on me to discover I had severe heart disease a mere two months ago.

It’s been a whirlwind since that date, a whirlwind of surgeries, complications, tons of medications, and an amount of worry and concern experienced by both of us.

Even when we tried to check into this hospital on Friday, we sat at the check-in counter with a rep calling our credit card company, wondering why the above-referenced ZAR 130000, US $8967, charges for prepaying this portion of the bill when we knew the card was sound. 

Mom and Baby mongoose huddled together on the lookout for food.

After a stressful hour sitting at that desk, wondering what we were going to do, only to discover that the handheld credit card machine wasn’t working, with a different device, it went through in seconds. After all, TIA (this is Africa). We should have known. 

Within hours I was in “theatre” having surgery on my legs. I may go in for a second surgery, depending on the results of the culture done after the last surgery. We’ll see how it goes.

In any case, it’s time to let all of this go, to focus on recovery, to focus on the opportunity we’ve been given to continue to live our dream. In a mere 41 days, we’ll leave for Ireland to live in a lovely home on the sea in beautiful historic Connemara. 

What an excellent way to roll into the next phase in our travels, a little wiser, a little more cautious, and a lot more grateful than we ever imagined possible. In the past, our gratefulness revolved around the opportunity to travel the world and make it work financially; to have one another to share it with; to have the ability and resourcefulness to cohesively make it meaningful and important as it enriched our lives.

Kudu, bushbuck, and wildebeests were relaxing in the garden.

But, now the gratefulness has gone beyond the above in an entirely new way…the gratitude for another day of life having dodged not a bullet, but a cannonball that gives me, gives us, another chance.

What we do with this chance is entirely up to us; we can treasure it as the gift it is, or we can fall back into our pleasant routine of planning, booking, and traveling. We chose the “gift” for all that it represents, for all that it inspires within us, and for all that we’ll share along the way.

Thank you for being on this journey with us. In many ways, it’s just begun.

Photo from one year ago today, March 31, 2018:

She’d nibble on the pellets, but we never saw him take a single bite.  He was more interested in her than he was in snacking. For more details, please click here.

Oh, oh, I’m back in the hospital…We love the new gnu…

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They were content to stay seated for several hours, occasionally standing when we tossed pellets to other animals.

“Sighting of the Day in the Bush

Young males gnu (wildebeest) have blondish hair on their heads, so mature males will leave them alone and not fight.  Due to the blond hair, the older males perceive the young males as females and have little interest in harassing them.

 I expected him to say my legs looked better, but perhaps prescribing another round of a different antibiotic would be beneficial.

After eating pellets, they all needed a nap.

When we took off the bandages, I could tell by the look on his face, he didn’t like what he saw and quickly informed us that we needed to see the plastic surgeon. Most of us non-medical people assume calling a plastic surgeon would be for cosmetic reasons.

Not the case. Many plastic surgeons have extensive skills and training in “wound” treatments and subsequent healing. Within 30 minutes from leaving Dr. Naude’s office, we were face-to-face with Dr. Noelene Du Plessis in her office at Mediclinic Nelspruit.

In minutes, we knew we were in the right place. It took no more than a few a quick look at my legs for her to inform us that I needed to check into the hospital for which could be multiple surgeries and a stay of up to 10 days.  
They don’t seem to mind being up close and personal with one another.

She insisted the first surgery would be as soon as I was checked in. Enough time had passed since I’d last eaten and had something to drink (I had a small cup of unsweetened Greek yogurt before we left the house at 8:00 am and had finished a bottle of water around noon).  

Noelene (doctors go by their first names here) explained that the surgery had to be done “today” most likely transpire around 6:00 pm. We were nervous and worried. Tom in his usual manner tried to stay upbeat for me while I, on the other hand, was numb in disbelief. 

How could this be? I’d done everything right to aid in my recovery but apparently, it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t think of one reason to blame myself for being in this position.

Two out of three wildebeests posed for the shot.

The only thing I could think of was the fact I’d taken a few showers upon returning to the house after the surgery, only to discover a few days later than the water supply in Marloth Park was toxic with bacteria, including E-coli.

Could it be the water on my open wounds was toxic enough to precipitate the infections? The doctors seem to think it was entirely possible. Once I became aware of this I immediately stopped taking showers and did “sponge baths” with bottled water which although messy worked out fine.

Eventually, the water quality improved, but I still avoided the shower with the wounds not healing properly. Thus, the infection raged on in the past few weeks while I took substantial doses of antibiotics the doctors prescribed. I sent photos of my legs for days and still they agreed I could be treated at home until a few days ago, it took a turn for the worse.

We were lounging in the garden after a hearty midday snack.

Last night at 1730 hours (5:30 pm) I was wheeled into “theatre” for what may have been the first of two or three surgeries over the next 10 days or so. As I write here now in my private room Tom has gone to check back into Leaves Lodge and Spa where he stayed weeks ago.

He’d considered driving back and forth, but after moving back in the dark last night, he reconsidered and is staying only minutes away from me during whatever time is necessary for me to get through this challenging phase.

Tomorrow, we’ll be back with some of the obstacles we encountered checking me into the hospital, including some nagging insurance issues. Please check back for more.

Be well. Be happy. Thanks for being “here” with us during this challenging time.

Photo from one year ago today, March 30, 2018:

On the way to the petrol station. For more details, please click here.

Mongoose mania…Funny little characters…

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Three mongooses were checking out the veranda and what treats we may be offering. As carnivores, they particularly enjoyed some rare leftover steak we cut into tiny pieces.

“Sighting of the Day in the Bush”

“Don’t get too close to my baby.”

This is the first holiday in the past 13 months when we’ve continued to see lots of wildlife when the park is filled with tourists, often offering them food they like but shouldn’t eat.

When they are fed leftover human food, sweets, chips, and marshmallows, they tend to hang around those properties and stay far away from us. Alas, it’s been different this time. They keep coming and coming.

 The bush is lush with greenery and vegetation, although, due to the late rainy season, without some of the important grasses, the wildlife need for nourishment. As a result, they may still be looking for pellets at the houses of those who freely offer them regularly.
“Umm…smells good here.”

Of course, it’s a concern to us when we leave Marloth Park in a little over six weeks. They’ll come here repeatedly looking for us and the nutritious treats we regularly offer; pellets, apples, carrots, and other appropriate fruits and vegetables they can easily digest.

 It breaks my heart to think of how often, after we’ve left,  Little will climb the steps to the veranda, wondering where I am and why I don’t come outside to greet him.  

 We don’t sit on the veranda as much as we used to since I need to keep my still painful legs up.  But from my vantage point from the sofa, I can see what’s going on in the garden, and I get up dozens of times a day to see who’s here. Getting up and down is good to avoid sitting too long in one position.

More and more mongooses climbed the steps to the veranda.

We’ll still dine on the veranda each evening with the yellow container of pellets ready to be tossed to whoever stops by while we eat.  We no longer do 1700 hours, 5:00 pm, “happy hour” since I’m not drinking wine anymore. And Tom doesn’t drink by himself.  

 Watching the wildlife while we dine has continued to be a highlight of our day. There are often four or five species in the garden simultaneously, all clamoring from the pellets or whatever treats we may have to offer.

 Yesterday was no exception. All-day, we experienced a steady flow of our wildlife friends from Frank and The Mrs. to bushbucks, duikers, kudus,  zebras, warthogs, and an array of birds.  

A mom protecting her offspring.

But, the highlight of our day was the band of mongoose, many of who were so excited for a treat that they, like Little, came up onto the veranda as shown in today’s photos.  

 We couldn’t stop laughing as we watched their brazen behavior, literally at our feet, along with their playful antics as they mosied around the veranda with intense curiosity.

For the first time in almost two months, I was excited to be taking photos of these adorable little creatures and for a while, found myself back to my old self, wrapped up in nature and taking photos. What a good feeling!

Another mom looking out for her baby.  They stay very close to one another.

Right now, we have three wildebeests in the garden, two lounging for a possible nap. It appears to be one older male and two younger males. The older male may be the dad of one or both of them. 

Usually, Wildebeest Willie is the only wildebeest that visits our garden other than the occasional Dad & Son. Today’s visit of the three boys is a rare treat indeed,

Today, we’ll continue to lay low. Tomorrow morning, we’ll be leaving the house to drive to Nelspruit, where I’ll have the second after-surgery appointment with the surgeon.  

“We’re here.  What’s next?”

After the appointment, we’ll stop in Melalane, the halfway point, for a few items from the Click’s Pharmacy (that reminds me of Walgreen’s in the US) and grocery shopping at the Spar Market, which is bigger than our usual Spar in Komatipoort.

Once we return to the house, we’ll prepare the day’s post with updates on how I’m progressing after the surgery.

Have a spectacular day!

Photo from one year ago today, March 28, 2018:

A lizard-like gecko was found on the veranda. For more details, please click here.

It’s a new day…It’s a new dawn…A practical warning…

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Big Daddy, so majestic.

“Sighting of the Day in the Bush”

This particular oxpecker is different from those we’ve seen with orange beaks.

It’s not over. I still have a long way to go to be fully recovered. However, yesterday everything changed when I hit the six-week mark (since the triple bypass surgery) and was able to stop wearing the compression stockings.

No words can describe the relief I felt when as of yesterday, I didn’t have to wear those tight impossible-to-put-on compression stockings constantly pressing on the still open incisions in my legs, especially near my ankles where the infection has been the worst.
 

Now, I’m only wearing the bandages, applied after cleansing, and applying antibiotic ointment twice a day to keep dust and dirt away from the incisions. I only remove the applications for a few minutes each day and stay far from the wildlife’s dust kicked up in the garden until I complete the treatment and cover the wounds.

Zebras stop by almost daily.

The infections are gone. My right thigh is completely healed, and I expect my two legs from knee to ankle will entirely close within a week. While the incisions are still open, it’s still painful but not nearly as bad as it was a few weeks ago.  

 I take only two non-narcotic pain tablets a day, one in the morning upon awakening and then again at 10:30 pm before I go to sleep. No pain medication is needed during the day.  

 My chest will take months to heal entirely. Ribs had been cut on the left chest during the surgery and the sternum to freely access the heart. I feel no rib pain at this point, but the sternum, a large bone, is still on the mend.  

When riding in the car, the seatbelt across my chest is painful. We bring a pillow along to strap in front of me. This helps on bumpy roads as well. The dirt roads are filled with potholes and way too bumpy for me. During our remaining 45 days in Marloth Park, I can’t imagine that our former almost daily drives to the Crocodile River will be possible.

Baby piglet, estranged from his family, visits daily now that he’s on his own.

However, Tom takes the best route to avoid as much bouncing around as possible when visiting friends. Again, with the pillow pressed to my chest, it’s doable.

 As for energy…I have more than my body will allow. Thus, I do as much as I can, pushing a little harder each day. The walking is now back up to 30 minutes a day and will reach 40 minutes by the week’s end. Within a week or two, I’ll be able to walk 60 minutes each day on flat surfaces.  

For now, I’m walking into the house. Here again, the bumpy dirt roads aren’t a safe option for anyone to walk, let alone me, during this period. When we’re in Ireland in 45 days, I’ll be able to walk on the beach or the local roads. Surely, in time I’ll be able to navigate some of the hilly roads they are in our new neighborhood.

 This morning, when I fell back to sleep at 4:00 am, I had a dream. I was having trouble breathing and thought (in the dream) I was having an asthma attack. Asthma is another of those hereditary conditions I developed as a child but have had under control as an adult.  

Check out the muscles on this huge animal.

Before the surgery, I used preventive daily steroid medication Advair since I’d noticed I was having trouble breathing. This helped a little but not entirely. I assumed the dust kicked up by the animals was the culprit.

Since the operation, I haven’t had to use the inhaler once. I wasn’t able to breathe because my heart wasn’t pumping enough blood into my lungs. It was logical for me to assume it was asthma.  

 As time goes on, I’ve begun to remember more and more situations where I thought my symptoms were something else, when in fact, it was my heart, unable to do its job entirely.  

 While working out at a health club all those years, I often struggled with a fast pulse and breathing issues. Little did I know, nor did I ever think, that my arteries were clogged. The doctors say the progression of the three 100% blocked arteries took place over many years, often as much as 30 years. I had no idea.

 Heart disease isn’t always about sudden chest pain and one thinking they have a heart attack. As my case illustrates, it was insidious with few distinct symptoms.

 I share these details, hoping to inspire our readers to see their doctor arrange a stress test.

 From this site:
“Heart disease is the leading cause of death in the U.S. Heart disease is the leading cause of death for both men and women in the U.S. and also the leading cause of death worldwide. Heart disease is a term used to describe several conditions, many of which are related to plaque buildup in the walls of the arteries.  As the plaque builds up, the arteries narrow. This makes it more difficult for blood to flow and creates a risk for heart attack or stroke.“

Ms. Kudu wondering when more pellets would come her way. We see several forkls of kudus each day.

Cancer is the second cause of death, but some are proactive in having various tests to determine if they’re at risk: coloscopies, prostate screening, pap smear, mammograms, biopsies for suspicious lumps, and skin checks.  

 Without apparent symptoms of heart disease, most people don’t bother to see if they’re at risk. Heredity is a considerable risk factor in both of these dreadful diseases, but so are numerous lifestyle choices.

 My case is a perfect example of how easy it is to assume there’s no reason to have a stress test done to determine if further tests are necessary. How many people know what an angiogram is, the gold standard of determining how badly heart disease has progressed?

 This invasive and costly test is not necessary if one’s stress test results are promising. Mine indicated an issue but not the detail needed to determine the extent of the damage and future risk.

 From this site:  “Atherosclerosis is a disease in which plaque builds up inside your arteries. Arteries are blood vessels that carry oxygen-rich blood to your heart and other parts of your body. Plaque is made up of fat, cholesterol, calcium, and other substances found in the blood. Over time, plaque hardens and narrows your arteries.”

Stents are a great life-saving option for many with partially clogged arteries, done during an angiogram, subsequently called an angioplasty.  

 From this site: “Stents help keep coronary arteries open and reduce the chance of a heart attack. A stent is inserted into the clogged artery with a balloon catheter. The balloon is inflated, and the stent expands and locks in place. This holds the artery open and allows blood to flow more freely.”

The male kudu is a distinguished animal with considerable grace and ease as he moves through the bush. He’s well aware of his massive rack and taps it on the ground near any other wildlife attempting to provoke him.

Please note, I do not intend to scare our readers. But if one reader is inspired to get checked, all this “heart” talk in many posts will have been worth it.  

 After reading many comments in various online forums, for those who experienced coronary bypass surgery, many have said if they’d know how hard the recovery would be, they would have taken their chances and not have the surgery.

 We’re talking about saving one’s life. This operation is not done willy nilly as a preventive means. It’s always about dealing with a life-threatening situation. For me, it was a no-brainer, surgery or die. I chose Life.

 And as hard as these past six weeks have been, I’d do it all over again. It’s not over yet. The boost I’m getting from one great day, starting yesterday, could ultimately prove to be a teaser with many more months of recovery on the horizon.

 But each day, I’ll carry on with sheer will and determination, taking extra care, following doctor’s orders, and striving to have many more years of adventure and world travel with my lover, partner, and friend, Tom.

 Oh, oh, must go. Little is looking for me!

 Have a great day!

Photo from one year ago today, March 27, 2018:

We didn’t recall seeing a warthog this tiny since this post in Kenya in 2013. when a mom placed her babies in a hole to protect them from lions in place for the kill, please click here for more details.

Paperwork overload…How does everyone do it?…

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This is my boy, Little. How does a human being fall in love with a pig?

“Sighting of the Day in the Bush”

A young male kudu and Little are watching the mongoose eat some meat we tossed out. Kudus and warthogs are herbivores, although warthogs will go after a bone now and then, mainly for the nutrients in the bone marrow.

This morning I received an email from Jury Duty in Clark County Court in Nevada. I’d written an appropriate letter explaining my recent surgery and that I couldn’t leave South Africa in time to meet the April 15th call to jury duty.  

In most cases, being out of the country is sufficient cause for dismissal. Apparently, I needed better proof than my sworn statement. What’s the purpose of a sworn statement if they don’t believe you?

This morning I sent them two letters from the cardiologist, hoping this would suffice. If it doesn’t, a warrant will be issued for my arrest. Gee…would I have had to die to be excused?
Young kudus in the garden.
With a problem with the connection with our two-year-old portable scanner, it took me no less than 30 minutes to get the letters scanned and sent by email. What if I didn’t have a scanner and was housebound for medical reasons?  

Not everyone has someone who can help them with such tasks. Of course, we’re fortunate to have access to technology that can expedite such a situation, even with its current technical difficulties.

Paperwork slays me. There’s no escaping it, is there? I often wonder how folks who don’t speak English, seniors with dementia, or other medical issues can complete all the paperwork required in their daily lives. 
When the pellets were gone, they trotted off.  Kudus tend to leave when there’s nothing left to eat while others can hang around for a while, especially warthogs, who are patient and know someone else will be coming soon, and more pellets will be tossed.
Next, as soon as the insurance company pays the hospital bill, supposedly, at the end of this month, I have to get to work to complete complicated forms and scan more documents to submit a claim for reimbursement from the insurance company for the angiogram part of the hospital bill.  

We paid the angiogram bill out of pocket on February 7th, which was a separate claim from the bypass surgery, transpiring five days apart.  
We’re waiting to submit the claim after they pay the bigger bill of approximately ZAR 770000 (US $53,551) at the end of the month. The angiogram bill, which we paid in full, was for ZAR 80000 (the US $5562), for which we are responsible for a co-pay of ZAR 228743 (US$2000) for the co-pay.  
These baby kudus were born this season.
Thus, we’re hoping to get back the difference after the co-pay. We’ll see how that works out. Of course, now the insurance company has doubled our rate to continue insuring us. Today, we’ll know if they are going to exclude any possible heart-related incidents in the future.

Then, at the end of January, we asked our bank to mail us our new debit cards via Fed Ex International (not US Postal Service), which will expire on March 31st. They were expected to be here no later than the middle of March.  

Alas, we called the bank to discover they weren’t sent, as promised by Fed Ex International (which we would have received in a maximum of 10 days since the shipment date) but instead were sent by US Postal Service, which we specifically stated wouldn’t work here in South Africa.  
Check out the tiny babies in this band of mongooses.
After spending over an hour on the phone with the bank, finally, they canceled the cards that hadn’t arrived and issued two new cards to arrive as requested. We should receive them by April 6th. We’ll see how that goes. As of March 31st, we won’t have a working debit card between us. Mine expired at the end of February.   
                                                                                    
Next, as soon as the insurance company pays the hospital bill, we have to return the funds we borrowed from ourselves from our retirement plan to pay the hospital bill if they didn’t come through.  

To avoid paying taxes on the amount, we have to return that money to the fund in 60 days from the original withdrawal date. Oh, good grief. It’s not as easy as sending them a check. More paperwork is required. Tom will handle this.
We’ve had zebras stop by almost every day.  They are definitely in the “eat and run” category.
Then, before too long, I’ll need to get our taxes ready for the accountant. We’ll have to file an extension this time. I don’t feel up to doing the tax stuff right now.
 
The list goes on and on. We always say, “You can run, but you can’t hide.” If we were living under a palm tree on a desert island weaving baskets, we’d still have paperwork to do!
May you have a paperwork-free day!                                                                                                

Photo from one year ago today, March 26, 2018:

Tom calls them Guinea Hens, making me laugh. They cluck a bit like a combination of turkeys and chickens. For more photos, please click here.

Trying to get back into the groove…

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This forkl of kudus consisted of three boys and two girls.

“Sighting of the Day in the Bush”

Two Big Daddies were sharing celery tops and pellets.

It would be nice if we could head out in air-conditioned comfort in search of wildlife along the Crocodile River. At this point, I can’t imagine bouncing around in the little red car on the outrageously bumpy roads for any length of time.  

The few trips we’ve embarked upon only required a few minutes on the lousy dirt roads as I held a pillow close to my chest. Any more than that would be not easy to take. “They” (whoever they are) say the breastbone fuses and heals in six to eight weeks.  

Tomorrow will be six weeks since the dreadful surgery, and although I don’t have chronic pain in my chest, each time I reach for something, I feel a sudden burst of pain. It’s not healed, and for now, it feels as if it could be months to be free from discomfort.

Such a handsome kudu bull.

If my legs were healed, I could declare I am feeling pretty good overall, although most tasks I perform wear me out. Also, I can’t seem to stand on my feet for very long, hoping this will improve over time.

This morning Tom and I got to work preparing dinner to last for the next three nights, one of our favorite dishes, Low Carb Chicken Pot Pie with an Almond Flour Crust. We both were feeling like some “comfort food” even with the heat and humidity we’re continuing to experience.  

Fall began four days ago, and with it, we’re hoping it will soon cool down. Lately, the humidity has been impossible, especially with all the rain. The many power outages increase discomfort when we can’t use a fan in the lounge or aircon in the bedroom.

It’s not unusual to see a few Big Daddies behaving as close “friends.”  We see this in many species.

This morning Linda sent me a letter Eskom posted today stating there won’t be any outages this week. That will be nice if they follow through, which seldom occurs. Next week will be another matter.

This week we’ll continue to focus on my recovery with no significant plans on the horizon. On Friday, we return to Nelspruit for the second post-op appointment with the cardiac, thoracic surgeon. On April 8th, we return to meet with the cardiologist.

Tomorrow will be the last day I have to wear the compression stockings, a full six weeks after the surgery. I feel confident my legs will heal better without the tightness of the stockings on the incisions, especially where the infections are close to my ankles. The stockings irritate the wounds with each step I take.

Without the stockings, I’m hoping to increase the walking to return to the previous  40 minutes daily I’d worked up to before the infections setting in. By this time next week, I plan to begin escalating the walking time from 40 to 60 minutes a day. Also, it will be easier to walk as the weather hopefully cools down a bit.

I’ve never enjoyed exercising from “home” (wherever that may be at this time in our lives). Once we get to Ireland in 47 days, I’ll join a local fitness center which is the best environment for maintaining a regular fitness program. There are no fitness centers within a 75-minute drive from Marloth Park.

Have a lovely Monday!

Photo from one year ago today, March 25, 2018:

It was challenging to get a clearer photo at such a distance, but we were nonetheless thrilled to get photos of this hippo. For more details, please click here.