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By Cliff Buchler

Editor/Journalist


Becoming a promised new man

A number of passers-by who had had similar surgery years ago confirmed that 'I would be a new man soon'.


Whenever I think of hospitals my imaginings know no bounds. I conjure up comic book scenes of doctors brandishing machetes, saws and pliers going after an escaping patient.

In the corridors, nurses armed with syringes that penetrate deep into tender skin await to trap him. All this became reality when falling foul of the intensive care unit of a clinic known for its specialised healthcare.

It is situated alongside the sea with a striking view of the bay. What an ideal place to recuperate. What struck me forcibly was the unbelievable dedication of the medical fraternity, from the heart specialist (who’s able to yank out your leg arteries, using them to replace the almost non-existent ones to the heart). And the patient survives, miraculousy.

These fine folk deserve medals.

Thankfully, humour plays a big part, despite the intricate processes and routines. Nursing sisters are depicted as portly, with terrorising glares, and have patients ducking under their bed sheets. Not my experience.

Without exception they prick, prod, pull, push, drain and shave – all with smiles and small talk to the victims (sorry, patients) to help ease the pain.

The odd nurse would giggle when tearing off plasters from skin that had grown hairs for 70 years. I explained the tears were the result of a sudden cold – not the agony of sticky plaster uprooting embedded follicles.

Then comes the dreaded post-operative exercise. Exercise? With two legs with cuts up to the groin? My surgeon, not known for small talk, barks, “yes”.

It entailed having to walk the corridor one kilometre in length umpteen times. At first, painful, then bearable, then a walk in the park. In a way…

With every walk a total stranger would encourage you to “vasbyt, you’ll be a new man soon”. A number of passers-by who had had similar surgery years ago confirmed the sentiment.

These testimonies kept me going, negating the hospital effect. Added to that, I was subconsciously aware of background prayer support from family, friends and acquaintances.

Proof of their efficacy? I’m home in one piece, on the way becoming the promised new man.

Cliff Buchler.

Cliff Buchler.

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