2 April
|
Mr. Michael Bird, Student Development Officer. Professionals Australia
|
Professionals Australia Career Development Seminar.
|
9 April
|
Krissy Hamilton and Grace Campbell, Investec
|
Finance 101
|
16 April
|
Judy Wookey - Social Work Uni Melbourne.
Director, Field Education/Associate Lecturer
|
Difficult Conversations about Grief and Euthenasia
|
Thurs 1 May
|
Dr. Cathy Beck, BVSc(Hons) DipVetClinStud MVS FACVSc (Radiology)
|
Mental health and suicide in the Veterinary Profession
|
Friday 9 May
|
Dr.Rebecca Belousoff
RSPCA
|
Animal CSI - Recognising and dealing with Animal Abuse
|
14 May
|
Dr. Phil McDonagh, Technical Services Veterinarian, Boehringer Ingelheim
|
Canine Parvovirus - What you need to know in Private Practice.
|
21 May
|
Dr Kate Stevens BSc BVSc (Hons)
|
The Art of Communication - how to effectively communicate with clients and colleagues
|
28 May
|
Faculty
|
We all make mistakes, but how do we learn and move forward?
|
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Practitioner in Residence: Lunchtime Lectures at Werribee
Saturday, March 8, 2014
Deborah Elizabeth Jordaan (Sieberhagen) Born 15 June 1924 - died at Vergelegen Hospital, Somerset West at 6.15am on Tuesday 18 March 2014
8 March: My mother is dying. I am a continent away. She has survived a few crises in recent months. Maybe this time she will pull through again. I was torn - I had a job offer in Australia for a short contract. Besides the financial motivation, taking the job would also enable me to see my son, daughter-in-law and grandson. I decided to take the risk. I considered the risk of her condition taking a turn for the worse. She has advanced dementia and is generally frail at the age of 89. I considered the risk of letting this opportunity pass me by and things being no different by June.
I decided to come to Australia. I had considered the risks, but in my heart I hoped that she would remain stable. Now ... she is a world away. But she is not alone. My sister is by her bedside. My daughters visit her frequently. I last saw her a month ago.
Many months ago, before there was a plan to come to Australia, she suddenly said one day "I am so afraid that you will tell me you are going away and I will never see you again." At that stage she rarely talked in full intelligible sentences. But she always smiled and said "thank you".
26 March: On Friday 14 March, I decided to fly home. The man at Qantas was most helpful in changing my ticket at no extra cost and ensuring good connections all the way through. I feared that I may arrive too late. On arrival in Cape Town, I went straight to the hospital. My sister was there. She believes that my mom perked up when she heard me. She had been with her for more than a week, so perhaps she could see what I could not. My mom was minimally responsive, although she did open her eyes and seemed to look at us at times. She could not speak. She had stopped eating and drinking a few days before. Since Friday they had been unable to place a drip, as almost all accessible veins had been used and damaged. She grunted in objection is she was rolled . On Monday she seemed to groan for no obvious reason. The doctor was concerned that she may be in pain and wanted a morphine drip to be placed. Aware of the agony of failed drip placement efforts on Friday, I asked about the feasibility of a Fentanyl patch instead. (Finally, my veterinary training paid off!) It took the hospital more than two hours to get the patch from the pharmacy down the corridor. After it was finally applied, my mom seemed more comfortable, but also less responsive. I went home late on Monday evening to sleep, very concerned about what the night may bring. The sister on duty called at about 5 am on Tuesday morning saying that my mom's blood pressure had dropped and she was breathing faster. I got to the hospital at about 5.30 am. My sister arrived soon after. We both talked to my mom reassuringly, holding her hands and telling her how much we loved her, that she had been a wonderful mother, and grandmother and not to be afraid, that she was a child of God, and that he would take care of her and us.
She lived her life as a Christian in every sense of the word. At times religion gave her great peace. At times it greatly disturbed her equilibrium and seemed to contribute to the depression she battled for decades after my father passed away in 1989. Has it really been 25 years? However, I believe, that if there is a God and a heaven, that is where she will be. Either way, she has not lived in vain, because she has made this world a much better place for all who came into contact with her.
Deborah Elizabeth Sieberhagen was born on 15 June 1924 in the Karoo, at Richmond. Her father, John Henry Reinhardt Sieberhagen, was a farmer, her mother, Hester Catherina Groenewald, a teacher turned housewife. They farmed at Bitterpoort in the Carnarvon District. My mother always talked longingly of her early childhood at Bitterpoort. They had irrigation there, with green lucerne lands. There was a dam, and a big fig tree, and a rondavel where the children were supposed to play quietly while the adults (parents and grandparents) had their afternoon nap. In the veldt, there were engravings of wild animals on rocks - possibly left there by the San people. They were amongst the first families to own a car and the first phone in the district was installed on their farm.
After the great depression and they moved to Cradock where they continued to farm at Wait and See. The children went to a farm school by donkey cart. Sieberhagen and Son bred top quality Merinos, Friesland and Dairy Shorthorn cattle. They had horses which they showed. My grandfather insisted that my mother ride a horse. She hated it, but was a good rider none the less. Maybe the horses appreciated her gentle nature.
She finished school very young. I think she was only 15 or 16. She then went to the Teachers Training College in Grahamstown. Upon attaining her diploma her adventurous side came to the foreground. She taught in Cintza on the garden route where leopards were commonly spotted in those days. She also worked in Springbok in faraway Namaqualand and even found a job at a small school north of Francistown in Botswana (Bechuanaland at the time). She then returned home to Cradock where she met and married a fellow teacher, my father Hendrik Petrus (HP) Jordaan. He was dark and handsome, she slim and beautiful.
He built a house on a hill in Cradock. They had three children while living there. I remember baking cakes with her, going on walks on the town common and on my grandparents farm. She taught me to appreciate nature and love animals and see the beauty in everything. She planted pretty annuals in the garden and filled the house with flowers. I remember her singing a lot when I was little. I never heard an angry word from her, and I never, ever heard her gossip or say anything mean about anybody. Some of her school friends still write to her. She kept up correspondence with my paternal uncle's widow until her death as she had promised my paternal grandmother that she would not allow the two brothers to lose contact. Until she became unable to write, she corresponded with her daughter (my cousin). She also kept up correspondence with my grandfather's cousin's children in the USA. And of course she wrote to every one of her children once a week without fail when they were far away from home.
The first one - soon after I arrived by train at the University of Pretoria:
"Liefste Koeken, Die trein het nou net sy laaste nare fluit gegee by die draai naby die buitebad......."
Koeken was my early childhood nickname - rarely used once I started school!
The only time I ever remember her being angry was when a neighbour swore at me.
When we were a little bigger, she taught at the local schools, often in relief positions in both primary and high school positions. Many of her ex-pupils remember her with love and respect. She was especially good at building self-esteem in insecure children.
My parents later lived in a house closer to the schools, and on the farm my father bought and developed, and later on in Bloemfontein, Springbok and the Strand, where he was Inspector of Schools and in his last job, a Language Practitioner at Sanlam. Sadly he died of a heart attack at the age of 70 - a mere two weeks after retiring.
As a mother she was always patient, loving and kind. I was competitive and ambitious as a child, but when I was about 14, school work, sport and orthodontists visits became overwhelming and I said in despair that I could not do so well anymore. I will never forget her words. She calmly reassured me that I did not have to be the best at everything. She knows that I do my best and that it was good enough for her.
She drew and painted very well and she encouraged me to do art. All her children have many of her paintings adorning their walls. She read to us every night and taught us to be fluently bilingual. She also wrote children's stories for us and later wrote poems which captured the natures of her five grandchildren very perceptively. Until very recently she could recite long poems off by heart.
She is loved by her 5 grandchildren, who also enjoyed her reading and stories. Her three great grandchildren are too young to know her, but I trust, they too will benefit indirectly from her wisdom.
Even after her 89th birthday she spent a lot of time drawing. From about the age of 68, until she was 86, she lived in her own apartment at the old age home in Cradock. She entertained all by drawing humouristic sketches of life in the old age home. She made good friends. She also spent many an hour visiting and reading to the people in the frail care section of the home. She often said that she hoped she would never be in their position. Sadly, for the last 3 years, she has needed that level of care. After first breaking her pelvis, she was moved to the frail care section in Cradock. After she broke her hip, she was moved from the hospital in Port Elizabeth to Grabouw to be close to me and my daughters, who between us, could see her regularly. She was now also much closer to my sister who visited weekly. We also preferred the level of care in Grabouw. In spite of that, her mind and intellect seemed to be slipping further and further out of reach. She had a stroke last year, which left convulsions in its wake. She has also been wheel chair bound since then. In spite of this, she always greeted me with a smile and often expressed concern that I was spending so much of my time with her. She always expressed her appreciation for my visits. When I pushed her wheelchair in the garden, she could still name many of the flowers.
She has lived her life with grace and serenity. It has not always been easy. In fact, her calm, controlled personality was the perfect counterfoil to my father's occasional vocal temper outbursts from the point of view of a child. He loved her deeply and took good care of her - ensuring that she would be supported even after his death.
Without him, she was lost and afraid and soon sunk into severe clinical depression which required long term treatment. Yet to the very end, she was the epitomy of graciousness.
I am so, so sorry that I was far away when she became ill and started dying. Yet, I believe, that she of all people understood my restless nature. I returned for the last 3 days of her life. She was barely responsive. Whether she knew that I was there or not, I will never know.
We have scattered her ashes on a hill overlooking the Fish River Valley and distant mountains near Cradock, on Voordag - the farm where she lived with my father for many years. It is fitting that her last resting place is in the Karoo, where she spent almost her whole life.
I decided to come to Australia. I had considered the risks, but in my heart I hoped that she would remain stable. Now ... she is a world away. But she is not alone. My sister is by her bedside. My daughters visit her frequently. I last saw her a month ago.
Many months ago, before there was a plan to come to Australia, she suddenly said one day "I am so afraid that you will tell me you are going away and I will never see you again." At that stage she rarely talked in full intelligible sentences. But she always smiled and said "thank you".
26 March: On Friday 14 March, I decided to fly home. The man at Qantas was most helpful in changing my ticket at no extra cost and ensuring good connections all the way through. I feared that I may arrive too late. On arrival in Cape Town, I went straight to the hospital. My sister was there. She believes that my mom perked up when she heard me. She had been with her for more than a week, so perhaps she could see what I could not. My mom was minimally responsive, although she did open her eyes and seemed to look at us at times. She could not speak. She had stopped eating and drinking a few days before. Since Friday they had been unable to place a drip, as almost all accessible veins had been used and damaged. She grunted in objection is she was rolled . On Monday she seemed to groan for no obvious reason. The doctor was concerned that she may be in pain and wanted a morphine drip to be placed. Aware of the agony of failed drip placement efforts on Friday, I asked about the feasibility of a Fentanyl patch instead. (Finally, my veterinary training paid off!) It took the hospital more than two hours to get the patch from the pharmacy down the corridor. After it was finally applied, my mom seemed more comfortable, but also less responsive. I went home late on Monday evening to sleep, very concerned about what the night may bring. The sister on duty called at about 5 am on Tuesday morning saying that my mom's blood pressure had dropped and she was breathing faster. I got to the hospital at about 5.30 am. My sister arrived soon after. We both talked to my mom reassuringly, holding her hands and telling her how much we loved her, that she had been a wonderful mother, and grandmother and not to be afraid, that she was a child of God, and that he would take care of her and us.
She lived her life as a Christian in every sense of the word. At times religion gave her great peace. At times it greatly disturbed her equilibrium and seemed to contribute to the depression she battled for decades after my father passed away in 1989. Has it really been 25 years? However, I believe, that if there is a God and a heaven, that is where she will be. Either way, she has not lived in vain, because she has made this world a much better place for all who came into contact with her.
Deborah Elizabeth Sieberhagen was born on 15 June 1924 in the Karoo, at Richmond. Her father, John Henry Reinhardt Sieberhagen, was a farmer, her mother, Hester Catherina Groenewald, a teacher turned housewife. They farmed at Bitterpoort in the Carnarvon District. My mother always talked longingly of her early childhood at Bitterpoort. They had irrigation there, with green lucerne lands. There was a dam, and a big fig tree, and a rondavel where the children were supposed to play quietly while the adults (parents and grandparents) had their afternoon nap. In the veldt, there were engravings of wild animals on rocks - possibly left there by the San people. They were amongst the first families to own a car and the first phone in the district was installed on their farm.
After the great depression and they moved to Cradock where they continued to farm at Wait and See. The children went to a farm school by donkey cart. Sieberhagen and Son bred top quality Merinos, Friesland and Dairy Shorthorn cattle. They had horses which they showed. My grandfather insisted that my mother ride a horse. She hated it, but was a good rider none the less. Maybe the horses appreciated her gentle nature.
She finished school very young. I think she was only 15 or 16. She then went to the Teachers Training College in Grahamstown. Upon attaining her diploma her adventurous side came to the foreground. She taught in Cintza on the garden route where leopards were commonly spotted in those days. She also worked in Springbok in faraway Namaqualand and even found a job at a small school north of Francistown in Botswana (Bechuanaland at the time). She then returned home to Cradock where she met and married a fellow teacher, my father Hendrik Petrus (HP) Jordaan. He was dark and handsome, she slim and beautiful.
He built a house on a hill in Cradock. They had three children while living there. I remember baking cakes with her, going on walks on the town common and on my grandparents farm. She taught me to appreciate nature and love animals and see the beauty in everything. She planted pretty annuals in the garden and filled the house with flowers. I remember her singing a lot when I was little. I never heard an angry word from her, and I never, ever heard her gossip or say anything mean about anybody. Some of her school friends still write to her. She kept up correspondence with my paternal uncle's widow until her death as she had promised my paternal grandmother that she would not allow the two brothers to lose contact. Until she became unable to write, she corresponded with her daughter (my cousin). She also kept up correspondence with my grandfather's cousin's children in the USA. And of course she wrote to every one of her children once a week without fail when they were far away from home.
The first one - soon after I arrived by train at the University of Pretoria:
"Liefste Koeken, Die trein het nou net sy laaste nare fluit gegee by die draai naby die buitebad......."
Koeken was my early childhood nickname - rarely used once I started school!
The only time I ever remember her being angry was when a neighbour swore at me.
When we were a little bigger, she taught at the local schools, often in relief positions in both primary and high school positions. Many of her ex-pupils remember her with love and respect. She was especially good at building self-esteem in insecure children.
My parents later lived in a house closer to the schools, and on the farm my father bought and developed, and later on in Bloemfontein, Springbok and the Strand, where he was Inspector of Schools and in his last job, a Language Practitioner at Sanlam. Sadly he died of a heart attack at the age of 70 - a mere two weeks after retiring.
As a mother she was always patient, loving and kind. I was competitive and ambitious as a child, but when I was about 14, school work, sport and orthodontists visits became overwhelming and I said in despair that I could not do so well anymore. I will never forget her words. She calmly reassured me that I did not have to be the best at everything. She knows that I do my best and that it was good enough for her.
She drew and painted very well and she encouraged me to do art. All her children have many of her paintings adorning their walls. She read to us every night and taught us to be fluently bilingual. She also wrote children's stories for us and later wrote poems which captured the natures of her five grandchildren very perceptively. Until very recently she could recite long poems off by heart.
She is loved by her 5 grandchildren, who also enjoyed her reading and stories. Her three great grandchildren are too young to know her, but I trust, they too will benefit indirectly from her wisdom.
Even after her 89th birthday she spent a lot of time drawing. From about the age of 68, until she was 86, she lived in her own apartment at the old age home in Cradock. She entertained all by drawing humouristic sketches of life in the old age home. She made good friends. She also spent many an hour visiting and reading to the people in the frail care section of the home. She often said that she hoped she would never be in their position. Sadly, for the last 3 years, she has needed that level of care. After first breaking her pelvis, she was moved to the frail care section in Cradock. After she broke her hip, she was moved from the hospital in Port Elizabeth to Grabouw to be close to me and my daughters, who between us, could see her regularly. She was now also much closer to my sister who visited weekly. We also preferred the level of care in Grabouw. In spite of that, her mind and intellect seemed to be slipping further and further out of reach. She had a stroke last year, which left convulsions in its wake. She has also been wheel chair bound since then. In spite of this, she always greeted me with a smile and often expressed concern that I was spending so much of my time with her. She always expressed her appreciation for my visits. When I pushed her wheelchair in the garden, she could still name many of the flowers.
She has lived her life with grace and serenity. It has not always been easy. In fact, her calm, controlled personality was the perfect counterfoil to my father's occasional vocal temper outbursts from the point of view of a child. He loved her deeply and took good care of her - ensuring that she would be supported even after his death.
Without him, she was lost and afraid and soon sunk into severe clinical depression which required long term treatment. Yet to the very end, she was the epitomy of graciousness.
I am so, so sorry that I was far away when she became ill and started dying. Yet, I believe, that she of all people understood my restless nature. I returned for the last 3 days of her life. She was barely responsive. Whether she knew that I was there or not, I will never know.
We have scattered her ashes on a hill overlooking the Fish River Valley and distant mountains near Cradock, on Voordag - the farm where she lived with my father for many years. It is fitting that her last resting place is in the Karoo, where she spent almost her whole life.
Thursday, March 6, 2014
The outsmart phone.
A true story - so glad I am not the only one being outsmarted by my smart phone.
A vet took blood samples from a dog belonging to an elderly couple. After the results came she phoned repeatedly to share the results with the owners. They never answered their phone. Then they came to the clinic - furious because they had not been called. The receptionist checked the records which indicated that the vet had attempted to call them multiple times. She said as much. Owner said, but that is impossible, I had the phone in my pocket all the time. Receptionist said: Is it there now?
Owner: Yes
Receptionist: Well let me try your number, maybe something is wrong with your phone. She phones from her mobile - nothing happens. She tries a second time. The message that comes up says that the number is not available. On closer inspection, they find that the phone is switched off. Oh, says, receptionist, that is why we could not get through. Upon which the owner says, but I always keep it switched off, otherwise the battery just goes flat. Receptionist says: But if it is switched off, no one can reach you.
Owner: What kind of a phone is that, I am taking it back to Telstra right now!
A vet took blood samples from a dog belonging to an elderly couple. After the results came she phoned repeatedly to share the results with the owners. They never answered their phone. Then they came to the clinic - furious because they had not been called. The receptionist checked the records which indicated that the vet had attempted to call them multiple times. She said as much. Owner said, but that is impossible, I had the phone in my pocket all the time. Receptionist said: Is it there now?
Owner: Yes
Receptionist: Well let me try your number, maybe something is wrong with your phone. She phones from her mobile - nothing happens. She tries a second time. The message that comes up says that the number is not available. On closer inspection, they find that the phone is switched off. Oh, says, receptionist, that is why we could not get through. Upon which the owner says, but I always keep it switched off, otherwise the battery just goes flat. Receptionist says: But if it is switched off, no one can reach you.
Owner: What kind of a phone is that, I am taking it back to Telstra right now!
Sunday, March 2, 2014
Veterinarians Behaving Badly: An Open Letter to the Next Generation of Vets
Veterinarians Behaving Badly: An Open Letter to the Next Generation of Vets: I woke up this morning trying to come up with all of the things I am thankful for this year. The usual things came to mind - the things I...
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