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 |  A South African based story introducing us to Johann Pienaar and his fight with HIV. |
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Written in Johannesburg South Africa. A rich story introducing the reader to a wealthy, white business man named Johann Pienaar, who contracts HIV. The People he meets on his journey along with the vivid dreams that leave him cold, show the reader a different way of dealing with HIV/AIDS. ********************************* A Toast! To Shock. Johann pulled up the collar of his coat and tucked his head down against the cold as he left the building. It would do no good for him to be recognized leaving this building. The black Mercedes was parked four or five blocks away. He walked purposefully, head down with long determined strides. Johann possessed the characteristics of a middle-aged, male Afrikaner. He was tall, well built, with a large shaped head and piercing blue-green eyes that exuded a mixture of cynicism and dry humour. His dark brown close cropped hair was speckled with gray and matched the length of the stubble on his rugged jaw. These were the only conspicuous traits the casual observer would notice. It was mid-winter in Johannesburg. This meant temperatures of around six or seven degrees at eight ‘o’ clock in the morning. A coat was definitely a must. Johann walked to the intersection of Market and Fox Streets. The red man on the traffic light was flashing him not to proceed. His mind was in turmoil. He forced himself to look up and around in spite of being noticed. The smell of hot popcorn and vetkoek drifted on the air from the street vendors. He registered the hustle and bustle of the working class. Around him people were climbing on and off busses, anxious to reach their warm offices where filter coffee awaited them. He smiled to himself for a moment, reflecting on how everybody managed to look the same. With everyone clad in heavy jackets, gloves and scarves, it was impossible to tell male from female. The light changed and a green man from the traffic light beckoned him to continue across the intersection. Continuing his walk, he could feel his mind tackling the outer edges of the explosion that had gone off in there. He forced suppression and begged his mind “Let me get home first!” An African street boy around seven years old ran up to him. “Please baas! Fifty cents! Please baas!” He looked into the rheumy, woebegone eyes and felt sorrow rise in his chest. Fumbling around in his pocket a hand like a shovel pulled out a R20 note and handed it to the young boy. “Thank you, baas! God bless you, baas” The expressive change in the boy’s eyes was thanks enough for Johann. The boy ran across the road joyously, amidst many hooter blasts! The black Mercedes came into vision as he rounded the next corner. With relief he opened the rear door and dropped on to the extravagant leather seating. He removed his coat, letting the warm air from the cars heater filter through the fibers of his clothing, comforting him, calming him. He reached for a glass from the middle consol and poured himself a large tumbler of twenty year old Chivas Regal Whisky. He gulped it in one go. “You can take me home now Rudi”. Johann leaned into the luxury of the leather and sighed. “Sure Mr Pienaar. Everything ok Sir?” Rudi asked. Johann could see Rudi checking him out in the rear view mirror. “Why? Are you a Doctor now Rudi?” Johann scowled back at him. “No, Sir.” Rudi started the car. “Just drive then.” Johann closed his eyes and tried counting, hoping to stop the flutter of thoughts going through his head that were screaming to be heard. Johann was born and bred in Pretoria. His parents were staunch Afrikaners. Being the middle child between two older brothers and two younger sisters, he had a busy childhood which was often dotted with frequent bouts of harsh corporal punishment meted out by “Pa”. Johann matriculated and went to university where he knuckled down and eventually qualified as a Chartered Accountant. He was hired in the early days by a then, up and coming firm of accountants. He left his parents home at the age of twenty-four. Buying only the basics in furniture and living equipment, he moved into a townhouse in the north of Johannesburg. Working hard during the days and nights, he more often than not found himself waking up in the morning having fallen asleep on the long leather couch in his office. As the company became more successful so did Johann. He was eventually offered a partnership which he accepted. There was no room for a social life. Committed relationships did not fall into his foreseeable future plans. After ten years of hard work and serious saving, buying shares here and there. The board of directors decided the time was finally ripe and voted him in as Chief Executive Officer. Now at age forty-five, he was a huge success. Not only had his company thrived and branched out. He had bought a small coffee shop, revamped it and opened branches nationally. He called it ‘Java-2-go’ He was a well known property developer and owned several townhouse complexes in and around Johannesburg. There was nothing he needed - nothing money could buy anyway. The Mercedes pulled into an enclosed driveway. Electronic gates whirred open slowly. Winter greenery, rhododendron bushes and colourful clumps of gladiolas lined the rolling driveway that lead to a double story Cape Dutch style estate home. Once inside Johann grabbed a bottle of Chivas from his bar. Throwing open the French doors leading onto the outside patio. He didn’t bother with a glass. Twisting off the cap, he took a healthy slug. He cringed as the hot liquid coated his stomach. Flopping into his favourite chair, he put his head in his hands and said “Positive? Positive! Shit! Positive!” He took another good swig as if it would rip the words out of the air. *** II The Stigma Somewhere inside the house a telephone rang. Johann ignored it. He sat gazing into space. While waiting for each thought to form an orderly queue. He swigged Chivas. His cell phone was ringing still in his coat pocket, thrown unceremoniously over the lounge suite. Johann did not hear it. His first thoughts were of his parents. Snippets of past conversations were echoing in his memory. His father saying: “AIDS is punishment for a lack of self respect” His mother: “Thank God it’s not in our culture” Johann made one decision then and there. He would not disclose his status to his family. He would not bare the expressions their faces would wear as the knowledge and understanding spread through their aged minds. It had been ten years since South Africa had achieved democracy. Ten years since the letters of apartheid had been split apart for ever. The Afrikaner, initially tight lipped, had adapted, better than most cultures in the rainbow nation, with the changes democracy brought. They worked with their African brothers. Ate in the same restaurants and discussed their children who were in the same schools. A delicate form of respect had developed between the different African and Afrikaans cultures. And, while the Government was still finding its feet, politicians checking each other’s back pockets and comparing houses and cars, another, much more serious change had taken place in South Africa. AIDS. IT didn’t care what colour the Government was. IT was oblivious to the delicate respect that had been formed. IT craved attention, and, receiving none, became angry. Fairly shouting now and still receiving no attention. IT took over the ruling of the country! South Africa was recognized as one of the most highly infected countries in the world with over 5 million South Africans currently infected with HIV. This was effectively, one out of every five sexually active people. Oh Yes! AIDS was picking up new votes everyday. IT was now President. “No”, Johann thought. “I cannot tell my parents”. It was too late for them to adjust to yet another form of Ruling. The stigma surrounding one of their ‘own’ being HIV positive would be too much. His mind moved on to his business position. Again, he thought. “I cannot return to work. I am a role model. Too many people of different colours, ages and cultures look up to me. I am an example to communities. I will not go down in their estimation because of a mistake in my lifestyle. I need them to believe they can achieve the same as I have, due purely, to hard work”. Johann felt the Chivas beginning to relax him. He went to the bar and dropped four ice cubes into a crystal tumbler. Back outside he poured a good treble shot into his glass and tackled the next thought that was begging to be heard. Tertia. He thought back to their first meeting. She was the Financial Director of a client company. They had been haggling over the financials of the contract prior to signature. Johann was attracted to her professional conduct. She wore a simple business suit. A rich green pencil skirt with matching button down jacket, a tan neck scarf hid, what looked to be an ample cleavage. Soft tan leather court shoes finished off the package. Long blonde hair had been disciplined into a French roll. Subtle make up showed soft healthy skin housing big doe like brown eyes which held a glint of the unknown. They had telephonically arranged a dinner date. To finalize business, they told each other, both knowing the business side of things would be over in five minutes. It was a surprise to them how much they had in common. Tertia had been born and bred in Pretoria, a stone’s throw away from Johann’s own family home. Similar upbringing, the same sense for business and professionalism had lead on to frequent dinner dates. After one such evening a week ago, Johann had said “Stay at my place tonight, I’d like you to see where I live” Tertia had said she wouldn’t stay but would come for coffee. They had sat on his patio. Laughing over childhood stories and experiences, this resulted in both getting merrily drunk over a bottle of Chivas whisky. They had not slept together; in fact, they had more or less passed out where they sat. Waking early with stiff necks and pounding heads. They shuffled around each other laughingly complaining about the day ahead of them at their respective offices. Now, Johann realized, he would have to end something that hadn’t even begun. He imagined the confusion that would be reflected in those beautiful doe like eyes. Once again, he felt sorrow and something akin to anger, rising in his chest. He wondered if he told her the truth would she run and hide from him, or, was she made of stronger stuff? He told himself it would be unfair of him to judge her reaction. No matter which way she took it, she would have her reasons and a full healthy life to consider and reflect upon them. He decided he would tell her. For a few moments Johann’s mind cleared. He stared at the bottle. What was it they had told him? “Maintain a healthy, nutritious diet. No smoking or drinking”. These were some of the supposed ingredients to longevity, living with HIV. What kind of living would that be? Having to avoid all the pleasures in life? Even sex! Sure, you can use condoms, but something of the pleasure would surely be taken away, just knowing he was performing the very act that had endangered his life in the first place. He hung his head in his hands and thought. “How do other HIV positive people deal with this!? I have to find out where to go from here, what to do with the rest of my life, how to even have a life!” After another whisky, a plan was in the early stages of birth in Johann’s mind. Sometime later, when it was dark and Johann could only see out of one eye. He pulled himself up, locked up and staggered all the way upstairs to his bedroom. Once he had achieved undressing himself, he picked up the bedside phone and dialed the cellular number belonging to his Personal Assistant, Jackie. It rang continuously until finally, “Hi! This is Jackie. Sorry I’m not available at the moment, if you leave your name and number, I’ll get back to you. Have a good day!” “Bloody woman”. Johann thought. “Never answers her phone!” “Jackie, Johann here, I will not be in this week at all. I’ll be working from home. Please let the Board members know that I will be present at next Monday’s Board meeting. Hold the fort while I’m gone and remember, that black thing that makes a noise in your handbag, could do with being answered now and again. Thanks. Bye” *** III Cindy For a few hours Johann slept well. Somewhere in the ‘wee’ hours he woke, sweating and thirsty. He padded through to the bathroom and drank about a gallon of tap water. Back in bed he felt the pounding in his head signifying a healthy sized hangover. After what felt like hours he dozed off again. He was dreaming. – He seemed to be hovering above a tall, red building with a neon sign on the roof. The sign was flashing, white, then blue, then red. He scrunched up his eyes trying to read the sign. Just when he thought he’d almost got it, wailing from the foot of the building brought his vision to pavement level. There was a huge parking lot completely devoid of cars. Instead bodies were lying neatly placed in each parking bay, all writhing in pain, moaning. The scream had come from an African woman who was kneeling on the ground next to a small child. The child had blood oozing from eyes, nose and mouth. His eyes slowly found their way back to the neon sign. The flashing stopped abruptly and, like a camera flash, the letters were burnt into his retinas. The letters spelt out his name”. - Johann awoke with a start. His heart pounded as sweat poured from his skin. Daylight poured through the curtains. He leaned back and tried to calm his beating heart. The dream was vivid in his memory. He pushed it away. By the time he had showered, dressed and had phoned Rudi to come and collect him, only thin cobwebs of the dream remained. He felt enthusiastic about today and was eager to begin his therapy. Johann had made his mind up. He didn’t want anybody from his wealthy life style to know his status. This meant was that he would not be using his medical aid throughout this illness. “Bugger the shareholders and their annual medicals” He was the CEO and until he was dead and buried he would remain so. Doctor Vosloo had performed his annual medicals for the past fifteen years. He would ask him to submit last year’s medical for next year. The sudden realization that at last year’s medical, he was a perfectly healthy male specimen, to his current state of health, forced him into thinking of how he had contracted HIV. A ‘Boys Night out’. It was Colin, one of his best mate’s, birthday. Seven of them had clubbed together and taken Colin to a tame strip club in the centre of Johannesburg. It had been a great night! Lap dances were ordered for Colin along with as many shooters as humanly possible. At some stage in the evening a young pretty girl had brought Johann a glass of water at his request. She had asked why he wasn’t drinking like the others. Johann had answered that he was the designated driver. “Oh! A responsible man?” she had said laughing. He had laughed with her. “What’s your name?” Johann asked inviting her to sit next to him. “Cindy. What’s yours?” Instead of answering, Johann had smiled at her and asked “Why do you work here? A pretty young thing like you could get a job in a more respectable environment. Have you done your matric?” “Yes. But I haven’t any experience in anything, and no one will give me a chance.” She shrugged and smiled back at him. “What would you like to do?” Johann asked. “Oh, I don’t know, I think I’d like to do some kind of office job, but not accounts!” she laughed. She had a laugh that made Johann think of the bells in Christmas carols. “Give me your number” he said. “I’ll fix you up with an office job. Don’t let me down though!” “Lord! Could you?!” she was excited now. “I would be so grateful! Jeeez! Was I lucky bumping into you and it’s not even Christmas! Responsible, charming, what more could a girl want?!” They had swapped cell phone numbers. Johann had phoned a few colleagues and amidst much humour and sarcasm, at his request, Dave, a friend who owned an import / export company, had agreed to offer Cindy an interview for the position of receptionist. Johann had phoned Cindy and given her the address details and time of her interview the following week, wished her luck and told her to dress appropriately. He had then wiped her from his memory. One evening a week later, the doorbell rang. No sooner was the door open and a flash of blonde hair was all he saw before she had lurched into his arms. Wrapping her legs round his waist, she screamed. “I got it! I got it! Thank you so much!” He extricated Cindy from his torso and set her down with a grin. “Congratulations! How did you know where to find me?” “Oh! I asked Dave for your address, so I could come and thank you in person! You don’t mind do you?” She had become crestfallen at the idea she had offended him. “No, No. Come in! Let’s have a drink to celebrate.” He smiled and thought, “Why not? Let the girl be happy”. They had sunk a bottle of champagne and were half way through the second. Cindy had become very affectionate. Sitting almost on top of him, playing with his hair, tickling his back, the whole time talking about how excited she was to start her new job. What she would have done had she not met him. It was the sound of her laughter, the brightness of her eyes. The appreciation her face advertised, that melted his resolve. By the end of the second bottle of champagne they had ended up rolling around passionately, there on the stoep. Sex with a desperation and heated passion he had not known before. They had found themselves a couple of hours later, naked in the lush garden. Senses having returned, to Johann at least, left a heavy lead weight in his stomach. His concern was due more to the idea that Cindy may decide after this, not to leave him alone. He stood and pulled her gently to her feet. She smiled at his expression, reading it correctly. “Don’t worry. I just wanted to say Thank You! You can go back to your life. I won’t bother you unless you want me to, ok?” “Thank you”. He smiled at her. “My life is difficult. A young girl like you shouldn’t be involved with me. We wouldn’t see each other much and I doubt I would be able to keep up with you anyway!” They laughed and an hour later she had left. Three months later Johann had received a call from Dave. After catch up chit chat. Dave explained that Cindy had been involved in a car accident on Friday night. She had spent the weekend in hospital but unfortunately, passed away on Sunday night. Johann had felt sorrow at the loss of such a young, vibrant life. Dave shared his sentiments. “Life was just beginning for her” Dave said, anger brimming under his voice. “Thanks for giving her a chance Dave, I know her last months must have been her happiest”. Johann replaced the phone thoughtfully. He was very aware that one minute you were starting your life and quite possibly, in no time at all, you could be gone, possibly never having achieved anything in the middle. Johann’s own deterioration in health, barely noticeable at first, had led to tiny warning bells. These eventually became wailing alarms and had inevitably ended up with his trip to a government AIDS clinic yesterday. He was pronounced positive with a rapidly decreasing CD4 count. Johann headed to the same clinic today. Having made up his mind to continue with Government treatment due to the anonymity it would give him. It was necessary for him to go through the process, step by step and side by side with the mass of people. He was no different to them. Didn’t want the special treatment medical aid would afford him. He didn’t want the sympathy, the stolen glances. The whispered conversations which would surely come from his wealthy peers should they find out. Rudi had arrived and was parked in the driveway amidst a consistent plume of exhaust fumes which were emanating from the black Mercedes. The sight reminded Johann that it was cold outside, he grabbed his coat and left. “Jo’burg again, Sir?” Rudi asked, raising his eyebrows in the rear view mirror at Johann. “Ja, thanks Rudi. Today you can drop me on Market Street. I’ll probably be all day, so I’ll phone you this afternoon to collect me. I’d also like you to stop in at all the branches of ‘Java-2-go’ and pick up the financial statements for me. I’ll be doing some work on them this week.” Rudi’s eyebrows went up again in the rearview mirror. “Sure! No problem Sir. When are you going to let me buy one of those coffee shops of yours? Doreen would love to run one of those” Rudi asked with a big grin. “Ah! You never know Rudi. I may just surprise you sooner than you think! How are your wife and my kids hmmm?” Johann teased. Rudi laughed and the two made small talk until Market Street loomed and Johann left the warm comfort of the Mercedes. *** IV Harsh Reality The Aids Clinic was set in a dilapidated shabby wing of an old Government hospital. Johann entered. Letting his eyes explore the depravation, of not only the establishment, but the people who were there. Following badly spaced directions down dirty passages, he noticed patients sitting in grubby orange plastic chairs. Blank expressions looked up at him as he passed. Although most were Africans, he noticed the odd white face here and there. All seemed emaciated, some sported lesions on their faces. Overall there was an atmosphere of doom. By the time Johann had reached what could have been an enquiries desk, he found himself wondering if he should go the medical aid route after all. A large African lady behind the desk was holding a heated conversation in Sotho with a male patient. It seemed to end with the patient returning to his orange chair, head hanging dejectedly, between his knees. “Yes Da’ling? Can I help you?” She smiled cautiously at Johann. “Ja, thank you, I’ve recently been diagnosed as HIV Positive. I’m here for counseling; I don’t know where to go. Could you direct me?” Johann smiled back. “Ohhhhh, Shame! Yes. You can just take a seat at the back of this queue” She pointed up a passage. Johann saw a spare orange chair about thirty patients along. “What’s your name?” Johann asked. “Me? I’m Rosie. Don’t worry we try to take good care of the sick people here. While you wait, you fill in this form”. She stated, handing him a clip board with a pencil dangling from a string. Johann caught sight of a pretty little Indian girl about seven or eight year’s old. She was running up and down another queue just as long, on the other side of the desk. “What’s that queue for?” he asked “Aish! That one is for the people with the Cancer. All the people who come here we treat them for the terminally ill diseases. You understand?” Rosie looked at him with a sad smile. Johann took his eyes off the young girl who was clearly a patient. She was wearing a candy striped white and orange gown, stamped with the hospitals name. “I’m in the right place then” He looked at Rosie. “What time’s lunch?” He winked at the laughing Rosie and walked slowly up the passage to the first available grubby orange chair. Johann was reading through the form before completing it. He read the statement at the top promising anonymity to any patient attending this clinic. Slowly he began filling in the spaces. His peripheral vision picked up the patient next to him. He kept glancing at Johann then turning to speak to the patient on his left. “Goreng Monna wa lekgowa wa muhumi a lemo?” Johann kept his head down filling in the form. His understanding of Sotho wasn’t great but he translated “Why is this rich white man here?” Johann turned to the African man next to him and said “I’m here because God forgot to colour code AIDS. Why are you here? Does it help to come here?” “Ja!” the African nodded his head. “They are very good here. They will look after you. But you are a white man. Don’t you have family that will help to pay for the private care for you?” “No” Johann dropped his gaze to the form in front of him “I have no next of kin. They are all dead. My name is Johann, and yours?” “I am Sipho. Happy to meet you” Sipho grinned and they shook hands. “Happy to meet you Sipho”, he paused. “I just wish it wasn’t here! What happens now?” “You see the Doc. You get pills. You live to die another day! This is the room for Dr. Kolling. He is a good doctor. The nurse will take your blood just now. Then the results are given to Dr. Kolling. He will talk to you to find out how do you feel and if you have friends or family that can support you. Then he will tell you how often you must come to see him. You see?” “Ja. So, all we’ve got to do is wait. Thank you Sipho.” Johann could see the patient to Sipho’s left had been listening avidly to this conversation and was now staring at Johann intensely. “Am I in the wrong queue?” Johann asked looking him in the eye. “Aren’t we all in the same boat here, with the same broken paddles?” Johann said sternly. He directed his attention back to completing the form. Johann had filled in his real name and had changed one digit in his I.D number. On the off chance that somebody became nosy, they would at least battle, to pick up the correct details of his real life. Johann returned the clip board to the ample Rosie. She offered him a seat behind the desk where she prepared him to take blood. Rosie wore latex gloves. He noticed they already sported a streak or two of blood on them, but said nothing. Very quickly, she inserted the needle into his vein. He watched the plum coloured liquid fill up the vial. When it was full she attached a second vial and filled that one as well. “What’s the second one for?” Johann asked. “This one is for the PCR test.” She gently removed the needle and applied cotton wool and a plaster. “What is a PCR test?” Johann asked slightly worried. “PCR stands for Polymerase Chain Reaction. It is a very sensitive test that measures the amount of the HIV in the blood tissue. We take this test now and all the way through your treatment. We can see how well or how badly the medicines are affecting you. It measures the HIV’s progression” Rosie told Johann to apply pressure to his arm and return to his seat in the queue. Obviously proud of her ability to explain these things to Johann, he noticed a sense of responsibility in her body language. He stood and watched Rosie label the vials before returning to his seat in the queue. The way he saw it, there was a long wait ahead. “You don’t look sick.” Johann, lost in thought lifted his head and saw the pretty Indian girl staring at him with large enquiring eyes. “Sorry doctor. Nor do you!” Johann replied with a smile. “What’s your name?” he asked “Tasmin!” she shouted. “Jeeeez, how do you spell that? I wouldn’t know where to start” Johann teased. “You’re lying to me. All big people can spell. Try!” she said surprising him. He thought she would simply spell her name for him. Johann saw this little one was feisty. “Err, T-I-Z…?” “Noooooo...” She interrupted. “Try again!” “Ok, T-E-….” “It’s T-A-S-M-I-N. Never mind. I’m going to be a teacher when I grow up. I suppose I’ll have to be patient with you. Everybody’s always telling me to be patient! What’s your name?” She had sat, crossed legged on the linoleum floor in front of Johann and was now looking up at him. “My name’s Johann. Will you teach English? I think you’ll make a very good teacher when you grow up. Why don’t you treat me like your first student and teach me what you know about this place you and I are in?” “Oh! That’s easy! This is a hospital you come to if you’ve got an illness that you can die from, ‘cos they have to give you special medicine to stop you from dying, and it’s really, really expensive. This hospital gives it to you for free and they try and look after you so that you don’t die. Lots of people do die though and Rosie says that’s because they didn’t come here every time they were supposed to. They didn’t take their medicines properly and things like that, so then they get really ill and they come here to die.” Johann wondered at Tasmin’s understanding of a terminal illness. “I will have to make sure I come here every time I’m supposed to then! You’re not going to die are you Tasmin?” “No! ‘Cos I’m not even allowed out! So I take all my medicines properly and they look after me every day here. I’ve got a bed on the second floor!” she finished off proudly. “Why are you here?” Johann enquired gently. “I’ve got kl-kulemia!” She smiled confidently. “They say it will go away when I get older.” Tasmin’s shoulders slumped noticeably at this last remark. Johann pushed a lump down his throat and moved up a chair. Tasmin shuffled along the floor to remain opposite him. “Aren’t you going to lose your place in your queue?” “No, they always come and get me, ‘cos I go round and talk to everybody and they know to come and look for me.” “How long have you been here Tasmin?” “About four months now. Since my seventh birthday” “Where are your parents?” “My parents both work so they sometimes come and visit me at night, maybe two or three times a week. My mum’s just had a little baby boy. She has to take him to work with her. She’s also, really busy with my two older sisters and my new brother in the evenings, so they can’t always come and see me. I haven’t seen my new brother yet. Daddy say’s he can’t come inside here”. She gave a wry smile as she said this. “Who needs TV when you can reproduce” Johann thought. “Don’t you miss them?” “Do you know how to play blackjack?” Tasmin asked, ignoring his last question. With a sparkle in her eye and a grin she produced a very used deck of cards from a pocket. With another look at the queue, he shark grinned and bragged. “Ja, In fact I play very well. Do you think you can beat me? I only play for money hey?” Her eyes dropped. “I don’t have any money.” “I tell you what”. Johann began rummaging through his pockets. “I’m going to give you R20. Call it a gift, then you can play for money” Johann took a heap of silver from his trouser pocket and counted out R20 in change. He was aware as he did this, of the eyes watching him. Reminding himself of where he was he added “This is all I’ve got though, so you’ll have to be good to win!” “Thanks!” she began dealing the cards. V A Year Later.. Johann stepped out of the shower and scrutinized his body in the full length mirror. Since being diagnosed with HIV a year ago, he had shrunk to half the size he was. Dr Kolling, who Johann still saw every Monday and Thursday, had explained with confidence a year ago, that provided Johann stuck to a healthy nutritious diet and avoided drinking, smoking and all the usual bad habits that actually made life worth living. There was no reason why Johann could not continue living a normal healthy life. There were complications a couple of months later. No matter how well or how much Johann ate, his ‘CD4’ cells were decreasing at a steady pace. Dr Kolling had been concerned and seemed at a loss to explain this problem. He therefore, started Johann on a course of antiretrovirals. He explained clearly to Johann, that a strict regime was to be followed when taking this course. Johann was to take the tablets at exactly the same time every day and never miss either a tablet or a day. Over two months his ‘CD4’ count had finally stabilized. Dr Kolling was happy with Johann, if not a little disappointed that they had not risen in count. That was six months ago now. For the last four months his ‘CD4’ count had been taking a dive again, much to Dr Kolling’s dismay. Vitamins and supplements were added to his diet. Johann felt if he took any more tablets he would rattle. Unfortunately, nothing seemed to be stabilizing his ‘CD4’ count. For the first time since being diagnosed, Johann had felt the beginnings of fear spread through him. He had decided that he would spend today in his office at home. Tertia would be arriving shortly to help him sort out the more complex issues of his finances. He had started tentatively six months ago. Putting things in order, sorting his will out, which had been harder than he’d thought it should be. Once again, revised laws and red tape had meant everything should be correctly worded and researched before a final draft could be submitted. Otherwise, Tertia had explained to him, the Government would not be interested or sympathetic to his possible ignorance on the legalities of a will. They would simply take everything Johann had worked hard for with gusto and glee. Johann had laughed. “Well, if that’s the case, maybe they would name a street after me!” Tertia had smiled wryly at this. “No…. You’re name is too Afrikaans!” They had both giggled. Johann made himself a breakfast of Muesli, fresh fruit salad and plain yogurt together with a freshly prepared pot of rooibos tea. He sat on the patio with his breakfast. Tertia would not arrive for another hour. Thinking of Tertia now, a great sadness welled up inside him. He experienced this emotion a lot lately, it didn’t seem to matter who he thought about. Tertia had been a gem in his radically changed life. He recalled the night he’d told her his status. Johann had invited Tertia for supper and bragged that he could cook a meal she would never forget. Johann enjoyed cooking. He felt he had a natural flair for experimentation. Every dish he made tasted different every time he made it. He had seasoned lamb shanks with herbs and basted them in a honey-mustard sauce, along with carrots and parboiled potatoes, all roasted together in the oven. He’d prepared gravy from the sauce and steamed baby marrows. For desert, he’d prepared a fresh fruit salad, scooped into tall sundae glasses, covered with fresh cream, dredged with chocolate flakes and topped with a strawberry. When they had finished the meal and Tertia’s tirade of compliments had finally trailed off, they sat outside enjoying Irish coffees and the warm summer evening. “Where are you this evening?” Tertia had asked. “You seem to be miles away. You’re planning something aren’t you? I can tell by the crease in your brow!” She laughed and leaned forward expecting a response. “Yes, I am planning something, it’s called my life!” Johann paused and smiled slowly, deliberately, creating the effect he wanted. Leaning forward and looking deeply into her eyes he whispered softly. “I need to ask you a very important question.” Tertia blushed visibly. “Oh! Well, what could be so important?” She leaned back in her chair and became preoccupied with the cream on her Irish coffee. Johann’s expression was serious as he answered. “Come now, Tertia, Can’t you guess? Haven’t you known for a while?” “Known what?!” Her blush deepened and her eyes darted uncomfortably. Johann bellowed with laughter. “I’m sorry Tertia. I couldn’t resist that one! Don’t worry I’m not about to ask for your hand in marriage much to my disappointment!” Tertia looked him in the eyes. Dripping sarcasm she snapped. “Johann Pienaar! You sure know how to charm a girl! What is it you want from me?” “I would like to know if I could employ your financial services. I am currently in the process of selling off a lot of my investments and need all the financial implications worked through, y’know? Capital gains taxes, normal taxes, etc., etc. I have put all my shares up for sale. I’ve resigned as the CEO. Ultimately, I will need a tax clearance certificate to finalise everything. My coffee shop franchises have been sold. I have one branch left, the first one I opened. I’m going to hang on to that one for a little longer. This is a big job Tertia. I trust you and your company’s reputation and would like you to do this for me. What do you say?” While Johann had been briefing Tertia, her eyes had become larger and larger with surprise. Now they were narrowed in suspicion. “Johann! What on earth are you doing?” She stood up and paced the patio. “Why have you resigned? You’re throwing everything you’ve worked so hard for away! Are you mad?! Who’s advised you to do this? Why do you need so much cash? Are you emigrating?!” She stopped pacing and stood in front of him; eyes burning into his with questions. Johann smiled up at her gently. He enjoyed seeing her riled. She looked sexy. He patted the cushioned seat next to him. “Come and sit down.” She looked like she wanted to refuse his invitation, but only for a moment. Once seated, Johann played with a strand of her hair which had fought its way loose from the tight plaid she’d sported. “Here let me get rid of that for you.” Johann slipped the imprisoning band from her hair and watched as it gently splayed down around her face. He could see she was once again blushing. “Johann, tell me what’s going on” She demanded. “I’m dying”. He replied softly. Smiling at her and seeing non coherence in her eyes, he repeated. “I’m dying. I am HIV positive. The treatment has finally kicked in. However, I need to prepare now for the inevitable. I want to accept it gracefully”. Johann looked away from the cloud he could see reflected in Tertia’s face. “I have plans. There is something I want to leave behind and there are some people I want to leave money to. Will you help me or would you prefer not to see me ever again?” Tertia had sat back in her chair and kept quiet for a long time. He went to the kitchen and took some time over making further Irish coffees. He knew she was upset and as yet, could not think of a way to apologize for any hurt he may have caused her. He didn’t want her to think he had been deliberately misleading her with his initial romantic advances. Once back outside, he placed her coffee on the side table and sat down. “How long have you known?” She had whispered. “I found out about two months ago. It hasn’t been the easiest thing to just mention offhandedly” He looked at her and smiled. She returned his smile. “Well, I suppose agreeing to help you is safer than agreeing to marry you hey?!” “I’m truly sorry if I’ve misled you in our friendship Tertia. I would have liked it to have gone the normal healthy route and I think we could have been very happy on the journey.” Johann felt better now it had been said. “Well, you were right about one thing!” she laughed a hollow bitter laugh. “What’s that?” “You certainly cooked me a meal I’ll never forget!” *** VI A Set Back The door bell rang and pulled Johann back to the present. Slowly he rose and made his way to the door. Tertia breezed in displaying her natural business stride. She proceeded to verbalize in point form the list of dire priorities they were to concentrate on that day. “Coffee or tea?” Johann called out to her. He suddenly felt the energy running from his body like a tap left on. “Tea!” she called back from the office. Johann made his way to the kitchen and gripped the counter top as he reached it. There were stars blinding his vision. Huge, slow moving, silver stars. “I’ve finished with Rudi and Java-2-go!” She yelled. “I Thought I’d give you some good news! Now we have to work on liquidating your property investments, but that shouldn’t take long…….” Tertia walked into the kitchen stopping abruptly as she saw Johann slowly sinking to the floor. “Oh God!” She yelled. “Johann! What can I do? Tell me what to do!” “I’ll go to the AIDS clinic... just give me a minute” Johann managed to splutter before he fainted. Johann awoke to his pillows being plumped and blankets being tucked in around him. He opened his eyes and waited while they adjusted to bright lights. Tertia was sitting on the end of his bed and Rosie was running around tucking him in, muttering to herself as she did so. “Aish! This man is sick and the Doctor, he doesn’t know why! He should be doing well. He’s not doing what he’s told to do. I know these men. They don’t eat right!” Rosie gave Tertia an accusing glance. “What he needs is his mother to cook and look after him. Ja! Then he will be well again I’m sure!” Johann tried to speak and discovered he wore an oxygen mask. “Oh! Mr Johann!” Rosie gasped. “You are awake I’ll get some water for you. Just relax the Doctor will be here just now” Rosie bustled off at an alarming rate considering her bulk. “It seems you have a fan or a potential wife depending on your preference!” Tertia grinned after Rosie. She leant forward and removed the oxygen mask. “Thank you”. Johann croaked. “I’ll have to think about that decision” he smiled. “I’m sorry if I scared you” He meant it. He didn’t know what had happened to him but he hadn’t wanted Tertia there. Under the circumstances however, it was probably just as well she had been there. “Don’t apologise Johann I think you ought to realize you’re going to get weaker. You should start taking things easy and allow people to help you where they can ok?” She wasn’t asking a question. Johann winked at her and tried a different tactic. “Thank you for being there” “I have to go. Your Doctor is waiting to see you. I’m going back to your place and I’m doing the work on the property investments. Now don’t worry about it. If I have any questions I’ll write them all down and see you tomorrow when you can answer. She picked up her handbag and smoothed down her winter coat. As she bent to give Johann a light kiss on the cheek, Johann looked up at her. “Please hurry, let’s finish this, ok?” Tertia ignored him and marched out of the bustling ward. Dr. Kolling pulled the curtains around the bed and brought a plastic chair to Johann’s bedside. He sat and looked at Johann. “We took your blood when you came here this morning. I have the results. Your cell count is dangerously low. We also managed to retrieve almost half a bottle of whisky!” Dr Kolling raised an eyebrow in humour but still managed to look stern. “You are showing signs of opportunistic infections but the jury’s still out on what those may be, most probably viral infections such as stomach flu etc. I don’t think we are going to be able to let you leave here unless there is a marked improvement in all aspects of your health. We are going to do some combination therapy which is the use of two or more drugs to fight infection. Just as a matter of interest I’d like to mention that, in most patients diagnosed with HIV, once they have educated themselves, with help of course, on the correct diet and lifestyle necessary to successfully live life with HIV. They usually improve in health and there’s no reason for any deterioration. We’ve been through this before Johann. A positive outlook is an invaluable part of the treatment necessary to maintain your health. For some obscure reason, since the day you were diagnosed, you have maintained a resigned attitude which borders negativity. I am actually quite prepared to say that it is indeed, this negativity that has allowed the HIV to take hold in your body and complete its path of destruction. My question to you, Johann, is why you appear uninterested in fighting for your life?” “Doctor. I’ve had a good life. You don’t need to worry about me. Other people who need this clinic’s help are hoping to be healthy enough just to carry on and improve lives for their families. That is enough to keep them going. I have more to look forward to in death.” Johann chuckled at Dr Kolling’s startled expression. “Thank you for the pep talk Doctor. I’ll try and chirp up a bit ok?” Three days later, Johann was feeling a great deal better. It had been established that he’d contracted gastroenteritis. His diet had been adjusted accordingly. Combined with the correct food and further cocktail medication, his body had once again readjusted. Dr. Kolling had refused his requests to go home and wanted to keep him for the remainder of the week. Johann decided to go for a walk. He generally strolled along the passages until he came to the Children’s ward where he would visit with Tasmin. Tasmin was now eight years old and a master at whipping Johann at blackjack. He grinned to himself. She had begged him to play blackjack yesterday and five hours later he was eighty Rands down. He suspected she had learnt to mark the cards seeing the tell tale creases on some of them. He enjoyed playing blackjack with Tasmin. Her young, bright mind did wonders for him. Johann walked through the children’s ward stopping short in front of Tasmin’s bed. There she lay. Lights blinking and bleeping, whirring noises and the unmistakable medicinal odour that seemed to belong exclusively to the sick surrounded her. Johann took in the glare of green graphs which emanated from the various machines along her bedside. Pipes were running into her nose. An oxygen mask covered her face. Needles protruded from both her bare arms which were resting lightly on the thin blanket. Tasmin was unconscious. Johann blinked with non-coherence. Just yesterday, this young girl exuded energy and a sparkle that he had rarely seen in a healthy child her age. Never would a person suspect this child had leukemia. Now here she was, looking pale, lifeless, weak and extremely vulnerable. Johann thought to himself that the worst sight in the world was the sight of a sick child. Johann pulled a chair to her bedside and sat. He held the tiny hand in his. Quietly, he whispered. “Tasmin, my young friend, please don’t give up. Get better and live a healthy, happy life.” Still holding her hand, he looked up to the ceiling. “Dear God, do not take this child’s life, please?! She has not brought this on herself and doesn’t deserve this. Take me instead, I am at least accountable for the terrible way I’ve treated my body” Johann rested his forehead on Tasmin’s small hand and sobbed. “Aish!, Aish, Ahhhh, Mr Johann!” Rosie chided as she shuffled into the children’s ward and saw the sobbing Johann. Johann turned to Rosie and wiped his tears unashamedly. “What is happening with this child Rosie?” “They are saying she is needing another blood transfusion. She has a transfusion every two or three months. Until they can find her the right donor for the marrow, then she must go through this. I think they will give her the new blood tomorrow” “What are they doing to find her the correct marrow donor?” “Mr Johann. It is not an easy thing. There are so many people who are on the same list in the whole country. It is first come, first served. She is still young. Maybe she is strong enough to wait another year or two.” “Another year or two!” Johann exclaimed, shocked at the time frame. “Yes, Mr. Johann, it can take that long. Maybe longer, it’s in God’s hands. You must pray for your friend. For right now, she is fine. She just needs to be relaxed for tomorrow, so the Doctor, he has put her to sleep for today.” Rosie bustled around the machines, checking signs and tapping drips impatiently. Johann stood and left the ward his mind buzzing at the information Rosie had given. He was surprised at how angry he felt toward a system that just did not work. What was the point in Government health care? If it cared, would it subject an eight year old to the tedious past time of waiting for a donor, before her life could even begin? Johann recognized the incorrect attitude of his thoughts. He realized a donor could take a long time, even in private healthcare. It was just the fact that all these frustrating issues seemed somewhat magnified when in Government care. Almost as if you were expected to be at the back of the line for everything, with never a hope of being ‘next’. Johann returned to his ward. His earlier, more lighthearted mood, had deserted him. He didn’t want to dwell further on disease and death. Climbing into bed he picked up his book. The latest Martina Cole, and read until he felt his eye lids drooping. |
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