I noticed distinct changes within the staff over the next two days. I remained hooked up to drips and painkillers. Whenever I complained of pain … another drip was put up.

Staff were professional and cordial.

But there were far fewer staff in my room than before. Was it possible that I was now the lady who had 3 months to live. And nobody knew what to say to me?

I wondered what the different cultures felt about giving patients a time line for survival. I decided to retreat to my ‘nothing box’ and not worry about it.

I did see a glimmer of the proverbial ‘anti-privileged white lady syndrome’ amongst the catering staff.  Staff that worked during the day were a breath of fresh air. Professional, diligent, charming and busy.

Two of the female night staff were angry, irritable and glared at me… with a “What dinner do you – ‘a privileged person’ – want tonight?”.

“Be sensible”, I thought. “It is midwinter with night temperatures dipping to 1 deg C. The staff have dealt with their families in high density suburbs all day. They now arrive to the warm confines of a wonderful hospital. Give them a break”.

The surgeon did his daily round on Monday. Spending far more time with me than he needed to… what a national treasure he turned out to be.

The news… ? My surgeon’s team had made lots of calls and were endeavouring to find me a bed at Africa’s A-Team Centre for Medical Oncology. I was enormously grateful.

I just needed to stay put and they would let me know when a bed became available.

The doctor made it VERY CLEAR. I had to remember ONE important thing. DO NOT allow any nurse to give you blood thinners on Monday night. I had been given blood thinners for the past two nights for a semi blocked artery in my stomach.

The surgeon continued:  On arrival at my new hospital I would get a biopsy. If the camera knicked me internally – and I was on blood thinners – I would bleed to death internally.  I was still fuzzy, but I understood the gravity of situation.

Jane, Carol and Ashley arrived to see me on Monday afternoon. By this time, Ashley had turned an empty file she found in my home office – from the 2012 Bagamoya Africa Forest Communicators Conference in Tanzania – and turned into into my medical file. I smiled. Bagamoya had been a good trip and my friend Nceba had made ALL South Africans proud.

Then it happened!

On Monday evening, shortly after shift change @ 19h00, a nurse rushed into my room with a cutch of medications to put into my drips. Her mind was a million miles away. She was irritable. She did not look me in the eye. She was doing her job.

“What are you giving me tonight”, I asked pleasantly. “Your prescribed meds she answered with a degree of impatience”.

“Tell me what they are?” I pushed. “This is an antibiotic, this is a pain killer and that one is a blood thinner”, she answered.

“I have been told I don’t get blood thinners tonight”, I said. “They are on your chart”, she replied. “Please check”, I said with stern emotion.

She could see that this patient was serious. “OK, I will check”, she said.

I never saw that nurse again.