How I came to Rustenburg
I was on my way to Korea, to teach English. Three weeks before my plane was to take off, I went out with a friend. When it was close to midnight, we decided to call it a night. Her car was parked a bit further on, so I was driving her to her car. She was directing me, so I was driving slowly. The robot was green for us. I continued driving, but at a slow speed. From my right came a car at full speed and drove over the red robot, crashing into my right-hand side.
A young blonde man was in the car. He got out. I thought he would help. Instead he ran away. I saw him running up the street.
I had a great pain in my pelvic area and my groin. I knew it was serious. I started praying in the name of Jesus for healing. Sandra was okay. An ambulance was standing outside. But they weren’t coming to us. I screamed for help. I was stuck. The ambulance guy didn’t have a scissors to get my seatbelt off. There was a stranger on the curb who had a knife, so he cut me free. Then the ambulance man wanted to lift me out. I couldn’t feel my right leg. I needed to lift it up with my arms. I asked him to wait. I needed to take off my high heels.
He lifted me out the car. My full weight was in his arms. He brought me to the ambulance. They strapped me to the bed. They had no medicine to take away my pain. They asked for my medical aid card. I asked Sandra to fetch my bag. It was still in the car.
She came back with my handbag, and my cell phone. But I had left my medical aid card at home. “Is there anyone at home?” they asked. “No” I answered in a pained moan. “Is there anyone who can get your card for you?” “Sandra, you are the only one.” She was afraid. There was another lady there, who was willing to drive with her. It felt like forever. Eventually they came back, with my card. We could drive to hospital now.
The ride was bumpy and painful. My hips felt so sore, I couldn’t think of anything to distract me. We arrived at Rosebank Clinic. Thank God we were in Rosebank, and it was close. It was drizzling that night. They opened the back doors. The wheels came down on the ground. It was bumpy, but I was there. We got in. It was empty. There was practically no one there. The guard said, “There is no casualty here”. They needed to take me to another hospital. Bumpity bump I had to be driven back into the ambulance.
The drive went on for another 20 minutes. I arrived. Milpark Hopsital. Finally. The next thing I remember is being wheeled into a cold room. I was placed from the one bed to another, a painful process. The doctor explained he needed to cut off my jeans, my shirt, and my bra and undies. They sliced my clothes through the middle and took them off. I thought something would happen – like drugs to take away the pain. Instead I lay there, naked, cold and in pain. No one was coming to me. I started singing Bon Jovi’s song “Give me something for the pain”. Eventually a young doctor came to me and administered some painkillers after having a look at my injury. I was shivering, so they gave me three blankets. I just cried and moaned because the drugs weren’t working.
And then the surgeon put me through an MRI to check the damage. I wanted to know if I would be able to walk again. I wanted to know what was injured. He said little. He was worried about my bladder. He was worried about the chord in my back that went to my bladder. I kept praying.
I can’t remember what happened next. But I remember being in ICU (intensive care unit). I remember not feeling much pain for the first time, and feeling relieved. I was allowed visitors. And it was wonderful. Tian came to visit me. And John and Alison. And also Pascale, Greg and Louise. And my parents. And Sandra. And Pedro and Rui. And Lee. Oh yes, I had lots of support from friends. Later Alex and Bascia came to visit a lot too. Any my church.
The sisters and nurses cleaned me. They had me on a drip. I was there for three days. Whilst there, I think someone died and they brought him away. There was another guy who had gone sky-diving and had crashed. I felt blessed. The sisters took good care of me. And yet there was great pain in it all.
My most painful experience was being washed at an angle that was excruciating. I tried to explain they needed to bring me up to 90 degrees, but they held me at an angle, probably 45 degrees, that seemed to make the broken bones inside me pierce my skin, my nerves, whatever there was to pierce.
I moaned and groaned, and eventually just cried silently as they washed my back with the soap and cloth. Physical pain.
My doctor diagnosed me as having a broken pelvis – fractured in three places, one major crack on my hip, and then the two bones at the front. They were fractured in such a way that they should grow back naturally. I didn’t need nails. I just needed to lie still and let the bones grow back by themselves. It should take about three months, he said.
After three days I was brought into the general ward. I met a German American lady with bright red hair and the best sense of humor since Bill Cosby, aged 86, and another elderly lady called Mrs Deale who was the most gracious 90 year old lady I ever did meet. She was a poet and writer, and she had a wandering nail in her body, or so she claimed. There were others, but I will never forget these two ladies, who made my hospitalization so enjoyable, I laughed daily.
Almut, the German American, was always telling stories, and making fun of life. And she had a spirit of a teenager, and she was the best companion I could have asked for on this trip. She had a broken femur. Slipped in the shower whilst in Tanzania. On her African adventure trip.
I moved from bed to wheelchair to walker to crutches. By the time I was released from the physio, I was on crutches. It went amazingly quickly. It felt like I had been in hospital for months, but the accident was on 23 January, I was transferred to Netcare for physiotherapy on 8 February, and on 15 February I was released.
It’s been a year.
A young blonde man was in the car. He got out. I thought he would help. Instead he ran away. I saw him running up the street.
I had a great pain in my pelvic area and my groin. I knew it was serious. I started praying in the name of Jesus for healing. Sandra was okay. An ambulance was standing outside. But they weren’t coming to us. I screamed for help. I was stuck. The ambulance guy didn’t have a scissors to get my seatbelt off. There was a stranger on the curb who had a knife, so he cut me free. Then the ambulance man wanted to lift me out. I couldn’t feel my right leg. I needed to lift it up with my arms. I asked him to wait. I needed to take off my high heels.
He lifted me out the car. My full weight was in his arms. He brought me to the ambulance. They strapped me to the bed. They had no medicine to take away my pain. They asked for my medical aid card. I asked Sandra to fetch my bag. It was still in the car.
She came back with my handbag, and my cell phone. But I had left my medical aid card at home. “Is there anyone at home?” they asked. “No” I answered in a pained moan. “Is there anyone who can get your card for you?” “Sandra, you are the only one.” She was afraid. There was another lady there, who was willing to drive with her. It felt like forever. Eventually they came back, with my card. We could drive to hospital now.
The ride was bumpy and painful. My hips felt so sore, I couldn’t think of anything to distract me. We arrived at Rosebank Clinic. Thank God we were in Rosebank, and it was close. It was drizzling that night. They opened the back doors. The wheels came down on the ground. It was bumpy, but I was there. We got in. It was empty. There was practically no one there. The guard said, “There is no casualty here”. They needed to take me to another hospital. Bumpity bump I had to be driven back into the ambulance.
The drive went on for another 20 minutes. I arrived. Milpark Hopsital. Finally. The next thing I remember is being wheeled into a cold room. I was placed from the one bed to another, a painful process. The doctor explained he needed to cut off my jeans, my shirt, and my bra and undies. They sliced my clothes through the middle and took them off. I thought something would happen – like drugs to take away the pain. Instead I lay there, naked, cold and in pain. No one was coming to me. I started singing Bon Jovi’s song “Give me something for the pain”. Eventually a young doctor came to me and administered some painkillers after having a look at my injury. I was shivering, so they gave me three blankets. I just cried and moaned because the drugs weren’t working.
And then the surgeon put me through an MRI to check the damage. I wanted to know if I would be able to walk again. I wanted to know what was injured. He said little. He was worried about my bladder. He was worried about the chord in my back that went to my bladder. I kept praying.
I can’t remember what happened next. But I remember being in ICU (intensive care unit). I remember not feeling much pain for the first time, and feeling relieved. I was allowed visitors. And it was wonderful. Tian came to visit me. And John and Alison. And also Pascale, Greg and Louise. And my parents. And Sandra. And Pedro and Rui. And Lee. Oh yes, I had lots of support from friends. Later Alex and Bascia came to visit a lot too. Any my church.
The sisters and nurses cleaned me. They had me on a drip. I was there for three days. Whilst there, I think someone died and they brought him away. There was another guy who had gone sky-diving and had crashed. I felt blessed. The sisters took good care of me. And yet there was great pain in it all.
My most painful experience was being washed at an angle that was excruciating. I tried to explain they needed to bring me up to 90 degrees, but they held me at an angle, probably 45 degrees, that seemed to make the broken bones inside me pierce my skin, my nerves, whatever there was to pierce.
I moaned and groaned, and eventually just cried silently as they washed my back with the soap and cloth. Physical pain.
My doctor diagnosed me as having a broken pelvis – fractured in three places, one major crack on my hip, and then the two bones at the front. They were fractured in such a way that they should grow back naturally. I didn’t need nails. I just needed to lie still and let the bones grow back by themselves. It should take about three months, he said.
After three days I was brought into the general ward. I met a German American lady with bright red hair and the best sense of humor since Bill Cosby, aged 86, and another elderly lady called Mrs Deale who was the most gracious 90 year old lady I ever did meet. She was a poet and writer, and she had a wandering nail in her body, or so she claimed. There were others, but I will never forget these two ladies, who made my hospitalization so enjoyable, I laughed daily.
Almut, the German American, was always telling stories, and making fun of life. And she had a spirit of a teenager, and she was the best companion I could have asked for on this trip. She had a broken femur. Slipped in the shower whilst in Tanzania. On her African adventure trip.
I moved from bed to wheelchair to walker to crutches. By the time I was released from the physio, I was on crutches. It went amazingly quickly. It felt like I had been in hospital for months, but the accident was on 23 January, I was transferred to Netcare for physiotherapy on 8 February, and on 15 February I was released.
It’s been a year.
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