Two Bits: My very first time

I first fell in love at the age of eight.

As the result of a bicycle accident, I spent a month or so in the wards of Grey’s Hospital, Pietermaritzburg, back when it was opposite Merchiston.

The walls were a thick cream, the universal interior colour of government buildings then, with a green or brown stripe running at head height (to me) and the floors were brown linoleum.

The beds were great iron contraptions also painted cream, that squeaked.

My window, one of those high sash ones, overlooked the graveyard in Commercial Road. That gave rise to all sorts of jokes about the doctors burying their mistakes, but I was too young to know about that.

The nurses were absolutely wonderful, as kind as kind could be to us children who had been pretty seriously injured in one way or another.

One night one of the girls died, but I really didn’t know what to make of that.

Of the nurses, Nurse (or Sister?) Bear stood out.

She was kind and funny and gentle and would always find the time to read stories to us. I was head over heels in love and remember her name to this day.

If maybe one of my readers was a Nurse Bear (Behr?) at Grey’s around 1959, here’s one little fellow who thought you were Christmas.

A couple of weeks ago I was back in hospital again, this time voluntarily. I was in the new Gateway hospital for a knee replacement.

There’s something I need to understand: why does everybody want to know who your surgeon is? I am using that surgeon because my GP said I had to, that’s why.

I have learned not to argue with my GP. It’s taken months to set up a date and jump through all the hoops the medical aid raises, so I’m all set to go.

Then someone at the club asks: “Who’s doing the operation?” I reply, Dr So-n-So.

Why?” Now I’m a bit anxious, see, because it’s out of my hands.

Then they either say “Never heard of him” or “Oh yes, he’s good.”

What am I supposed to do if they say “Oh no, he’s a butcher.

He cut off my brother’s best friend’s uncle’s left leg instead of fixing his tennis elbow!”

Let me tell you, hospitals have changed in the last 60 years! Everything at Gateway is absolutely first class, clean as a pin and runs on ball bearings.

Oh no, not everything has changed! The nurses are just the same – smiling, friendly, efficient.

Absolutely nothing was too much trouble.

I thought of asking one to read for me, but realised that might be pushing my luck. But I am in love, again!

Before you go in, everyone’s an expert.

They’ll tell you a: It’s painless, b: it might hurt a little or c: It’s the most painful operation you can ever have.

Well, I got c in spades.

My mother-in-law delights in telling me that she has not had a moment’s pain from her knee op of a year ago.

I want to slap her!

But I can’t, because she’s 91 years old.

And, what’s more, she just might slap me back!

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Pete and Bev Forbes of Brettenwood have sent me their very own picture (not Photoshopped this time) of a Giant Kingfisher perched on the “No Fishing” sign at Chaka’s Rock tidal pool.

Well done to get this photo – it must have taken a lot of patience to get it right!

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What is the worst combination of two sicknesses?

Diarrhoea and Alzheimer’s. You’re running, but you don’t know where.