I am relieved, in hindsight, that my parents died before becoming unable to care for themselves and before they had to kept alive by machines, writes guest columnist Bhekisisa Mncube. My mother, Ntombikayise Rosta MaMlambo Mncube, aged seventy-eight, died on 4 January 2021 due to Covid-19, and my father, M’fulathelwa Andreas Mncube, aged eighty-five, passed away earlier this year due to complications from dementia and high blood pressure. My mother was comatose in hospital for less than two weeks.
My father, whom I loathed, was in and out of hospital as an outpatient for two years, for which I covered the transport fees of R1 000 per visit. The hospital, KwaCeza, is 60km from home. When death was approaching, he was hospitalised and succumbed to his ailments in less than two weeks.
I was relieved he died sooner rather than later. He had shown advanced mental confusion and was unable to live peacefully with the grandchildren, his only companions after losing his wife and his children, who are all married and live elsewhere. My mum died too soon in my opinion; she was still able to walk and run errands.
However, she stood no chance against Covid-19, especially with her underlying condition of uncontrolled type 2 diabetes, despite being on the government’s chronic medication scheme. She lived a simple life in the impoverished north of KwaZulu-Natal, in Ulundi, eNewland village near Mkhazane. ALSO READ | LIVE BY DESIGN | Fatherhood: What’s the legacy you aspire to leave you.
