I Left My Heart in Pretoria

Looking across the Union Buildings Garden towards the Lukasrand Tower

Well, no, I didn't - my heart is still firmly ensconced in its chamber, but it was because of my hollow muscular organ that I found myself spending the past six days in Pretoria, the seat of the executive branch of the South African government. The tale unfolded late on Wednesday last week. On a night when I was having difficulty falling asleep, I got up from the bed to walk over to the dresser, where a bottle of over-the-counter sleeping tablets was kept. The problem was I rose too quickly. I passed out, hitting my head and right shoulder on the dresser as I fell to the floor. I'm not sure how long I was lying there (it could've been seconds; it could've been minutes), but when I came to and made my way back to bed, my heart was racing at a breakneck pace.

Despite the pounding in my chest, I eventually fell asleep, but the next morning I was feeling winded. Arriving at work I went straight to the health unit to be examined by the physician, who confirmed I had an irregular heartbeat. From the embassy I was taken to one of the better hospitals in Addis Ababa, where after a series of tests I was diagnosed as having atrial fibrillation. I would end up spending Thursday night at the hospital - due to a resurgence in COVID-19 cases in Ethiopia's capital, all the beds were filled and so I ended up spending a long, noisy, stressful and sleepless night in a bed in a corner of the emergency room.

The decision came down that I was to be medevaced to South Africa, which is how I found myself strapped to a gurney inside an air ambulance that departed Addis Ababa just before midnight on Friday. Following a refueling stop in Kampala, we arrived in Pretoria around dawn. From the airport an ambulance transported me to the hospital where I would stay the next three nights, hooked up to a heart monitor in the Cardiac ICU.

As you can imagine, it was far from an enjoyable stay, though I did seem much better off than some of my fellow patients in the CICU. I was confined to the bed most of the time, reading a book or watching TV. I was allowed to get up and take walks around the hospital floor, even though it meant having to unplug myself from the heart and blood pressure monitors (followed by having to reattach myself when I returned from my corridor strolls). Boredom was relieved with the 4:30 a.m. blood drawings, and morning anti-coagulant injections into my stomach. I was examined by a cardiologist, who had me undergo two CAT scans (one for the head, the other to map my heart), and an EKG. The most unpleasant experience was by far the tilt-table test. This involved being strapped down on a table, then having it tilted upward until I was almost vertical. The intent was to measure how one's heart rate and blood pressure respond to the force of gravity - in my case, I lasted around 15 minutes, feeling dizzy and finding it hard to breathe before the nurse took pity and mercifully ended the test.

In the end, it was a relief to learn that my heart is for the most part healthy, and that the atrial fibrillation won't require a long-term medication regimen or major changes in lifestyle (though I do need to watch the cholesterol levels). I was discharged on Tuesday morning and put up in a hotel in Pretoria's Menlyn Park area. Following a final consultation with the cardiologist on Wednesday morning, and a Thursday morning session at the embassy, I had some time to myself until my 11 p.m. Thursday commercial flight back to Addis Ababa. I arrived in Ethiopia at 0525 hours this morning, so if this post doesn't meet its usual high standards of erudite insights, it's because I'm having trouble staying awake as I write this on a Friday afternoon.

The hospital where I stayed in Addis Ababa. It's a good facility, but it's located in a neighborhood of potholed and/or unpaved roads and crowded market streets, which must make it difficult for the ambulances to reach the ER:

The air ambulance on the tarmac at Bole International Airport. You can see the gurney inside the doorway:

Breakfast in bed at the CICU in Pretoria. The food wasn't bad, actually, and I was well taken care of by the staff at the hospital there:

Having been driven from the airport to the hospital in the early morning hours of Saturday while lying down on a stretcher, my first view of Pretoria came when I got up and walked the floor where the CICU was located:

Notice the bilingual sign in the background. Afrikaans was widely spoken among the (white) patients and staff at the hospital:

When you're hooked up to an IV but still have that craving for nicotine first thing in the morning:

Each bed in the CICU had a TV, but earbuds or headphones were needed to listen to the programs. Having neither, and with a lot of time to kill while lying in bed, I became addicted to watching local soap operas, as many of them were subtitled in English:

Catching the sunrise between having yet more blood drawn (my right arm is badly bruised), and before breakfast was served:

What lies behind the door in Ward 1D?:

Waiting for a taxi to take me to the hotel on Tuesday morning after being discharged from the hospital:

My room at the Capital Menlyn Maine was more like an apartment, as it came with a small kitchen, plus a washing machine and dryer:

The view from my 6th-floor (or 7th-floor, if you prefer counting things the American way) balcony. Several restaurants and the Menlyn Maine Central Square shopping mall were the proverbial stone's throw away:

The Time Square Casino was located across the road:

My first post-hospital meal was at...McDonald's. It had been a while...As was the case with many businesses in South Africa, I had my temperature checked upon entering, then filled out a form with my name, cell phone number, the time I arrived and my temperature reading. The seriousness with which South Africans appear to be taking the coronavirus (face masks, hand sanitizer, social distancing and so on) is in stark contrast with the situation here in Ethiopia (or in parts of the U.S.), where things appear to be spiraling out of control. The big news in the country during my brief stay came on Tuesday evening when President Cyril Ramaphosa in a televised address announced new restrictions for the upcoming Easter holiday weekend:

Seeing the name of this bookstore brought out the sniggering schoolboy in me. It turns out CUM is a Christian bookshop chain! The name comes from the Afrikaans Christelike Uitgewersmaatskappy, meaning "Christian Publishing Company":

There were a number of sculptures in the area around the hotel and shopping mall:

The casino lit up at night:

The view from my balcony in the early evening. The restaurants and bars were busy and lively...up until the COVID-19-mandated curfew. It was dark and quiet as I prepared to get into bed around 10 p.m.:

The Menlyn Park Shopping Centre is an even larger shopping mall around 15 minutes on foot from the hotel. It's where I spent most of Wednesday afternoon following my morning consultation with my cardiologist back at the hospital:

Local language reference books for sale at the mall's Exclusive Books outlet:

Thursday morning started off with the "Farmhouse Breakfast" - two eggs, chili mince, lamb wors (sausage), rocket (a salad leaf) and ciabatta bread:

While I was missing my family, I did wish I could've have had some time to explore my surroundings. Had it been necessary to stay through the weekend, I would've hired a taxi for a day to take me on a safari tour. I had to visit the health unit at the embassy in Pretoria on Thursday morning, so afterward I had the taxi driver take me to see the Union Buildings, the official seat of the South African government and where the official office of the country's president is located:

The grounds are famous for the large statue of Nelson Mandela:

General Louis Botha, the first prime minister of the Union of South Africa:

My final proper meal in South Africa was a late lunch at Turn 'n' Tender. I sat outside, facing the hotel - that's my balcony on the top floor on the left (above the umbrella):

Things started off with a Castle Lager:

I had the 300 gram fillet, "a prime cut so tender it melts in your mouth", according to the menu, and the menu was telling the truth. It came with a side of mash, and a spicy traditional African sauce called Peri Peri:

For dessert I had malvapoeding and ice cream, and washed down in a lime-flavored milkshake. Decadence never tasted so good:

And if my waistline wasn't already taking a lot of abuse, I bought another milkshake from a stand in Menlyn Maine Central Square to enjoy on the balcony while waiting for the taxi to arrive to take me to the airport:

A nightcap at O.R. Tambo International Airport while counting down the remaining minutes in South Africa:

And so I'm back "home" in Ethiopia, even though the familiar-looking roads and shops of South Africa feel a lot more like North America than anywhere I've seen in Addis Ababa. I only wish I had been visiting under better circumstances. It's been a stressful and uncomfortable week-and-a-half - I've lost much of my chest hair from having the stickers that connected the electrodes to the heart monitor applied, removed and replaced so many times. But at least it was reassuring to learn that my heart is in decent shape, atrial fibrillation aside. 

I just have to train myself not to get out of bed quickly from now on, otherwise I may be paying another visit to the local CICU...