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JAYNE WITH A WHY |
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January 2006 . : On My Perch at Night, I'm Reading A Book On My Kindle: .
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Wednesday, July 25, 2012DYING FOR A CUPPA
His was the first bed, on the right as I entered the 6-bed ward. He was lying asleep in a foetal position, curled up in an attempt to fight off the ravages of whatever illness was tearing away at his body. Sprigs of matted grey hair stuck out from his head, which like his wasted body, seemed so small. There were no blankets covering him - those had been pushed to the end of the bed - along with a sheet, which lay in a crumpled mess to one side.
He groaned, in obvious pain.
In a voice that seemed way too powerful to come from such a frail body, the man yelled "Help me! I'm dying!"
No one helped him. No nurse comforted him. No doctor rushed to find out what the emergency was.
The man fell back into his painful sleep.
Visitors hovered around other patients in the ward. Nursing assistants buzzed around like flies searching for their next target, looking busy, clutching their paperwork.
From the depths of hushed conversations, there came a rapid burst of crystal clear words; "Cuppa tea please! Two sugars!" The man groaned again & a nurse said "Yeah, alright, be with you just now".
The tea never came.
Over the course of the next week, the man's request for a cup of tea seemed to diminish considerably. He continued to shout out "I'm dying!" and, I noticed, "Just let me die - I want to die!". Women in the neighbouring ward complained about the 'noise', especially at night.
The man was sedated. A young female doctor came & gave him an injection, to keep him 'calm'. I felt the only strength the man had left in him was his voice & now that was being subdued.
A day later, I noticed a middle-aged couple at the mans bed. They had been called by the doctor apparently. They were family, yet I couldn't help wondering why they hadn't visited before? I overheard them talking about how the man had been moved from a care home to the hospital & how it was impossible for him to go back there.
No, I thought. He wants to die. The middle-aged woman shed a few silent tears & then together with her partner, left the man, the ward, the hospital.
The last time I saw the man, he was heavily sedated, but obviously still in pain. I saw his face , how gaunt it was, how pallid his complexion was. His mouth was wide open, sucking in breaths of air in deep, rasping gulps. His lips were pale, dry & stretched. Thickened spittle had dried & it hung like creamy coloured spikes from his top lip. I noticed a plastic dish on his bedside tray, containing moisture 'lollies'. I saw a nurse use one on & in his mouth, but just once. I knew he hadn't got much longer on this earth. I felt he didn't want to be around much longer.
The last words that I heard the man say were "I want to die". He didn't cry them out in anguish that time - he merely spoke them, almost normally.
My dad told me the next day, that the man had died in the middle of the night. The man got his final wish, despite not getting his cup of tea.
(No vicar, minister or preacher of any kind came to the man after he'd died, so in the middle of night, my dad - who was in the next bed - sat on the side of his bed & quietly recited a poem for the dead in Zulu. My dad isn't a particularly religious chap, but he wished the man well on his journey to the next life, knowing that finally, the man was at peace.)
 
Monday, July 16, 2012.................AND MY POINT IS..............(Contains more than average swearing)
Throughout the mutterings of my blog & for the past 6yrs, I've made it perfectly clear the what I write is my opinion. I started off writing whilst living in the Sandpit (Abu Dhabi), carried on when I moved back home to SA for a couple of years (Behind the Boerewors Curtain) & now, whilst living in Nigeria.................which for the life of me, I cannot find a remotely polite or humourous nickname for. It is, in a nutshell, a shit hole.....................in my opinion, of course.
A while back, an Anonymous person (whom I won't give the courtesy of publishing) decided to send me a comment in response to the post on Banana Island. In it, he/she/it declared in the opening line that I was a 'stupid racist bitch'. Hmmmm..........well, I'd like to clarify the two points mentioned there. Firstly, I do acknowledge that I don't have a particularly high IQ score, even if I haven't had it tested. What I do have is a heap of experience in life & that, rather than a bit of paper telling me I'm brainy, is quite sufficient. So, I disagree with Anonymous' declaration that I'm stupid.
My second point is that he/she/it states that I am a racist & this, I have to admit, I take great offense to, because if the fuckwit behind the Anonymous comment had more than 8 brain cells & had indeed read my blog in more detail, he/she/it would've realised that I'm not a racist because I - for want of a better word - hate EQUALLY. Duh! I don't give a shit what colour skin anyone has & also don't give a shit where that person hails from, because if I don't like something/someone, I have the balls to bloody well say so! I will happily write about the good people, good deeds, good country etc etc blah blah if it warrants it, just the same as I will slam people, actions, countries if they piss on my battery. It's called an opinion, arse'ole.
The Anonymous commenter also went on to say that I should 'GTFOH' & go back to Europe with my ancestors.............................ahem.................coff.........................and I'm the racist? According to this twat, Africa (as a whole) is, quote "our land". Who's 'our' pray tell? I notice you didn't go into any detail defining who falls into the 'our' category....................is it yours because you happen to be a darker shade of pale? If that's the case then seriously, you need to study several centuries of history.
From what Anonymous
So, in closing, my point is this is MY blog, containing MY opinions about MY life here. No one asked you 'Anonymous' to vent your own racist rant on MY blog. I welcome most commenters & will even publish those who disagree with what I may have written, but when a cnt (all that's missing is u) like you comes along & tears into me for being who I am, then I draw the line.
No one asked you to read this blog, so do me a favour & fuck off & take your misinformed, racist attitude with you. Labels: Banana Island, fuckwitted floppies, Nigeria., racism
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