The Old Diocesan Issue 10 - Magazine - Page 42
No-one makes it out alive
After an agonising brush with death, Thabang Skwambane recognised his
Damascene moment of mortality and took lessons for a new way forward
S
omething was seriously
wrong. It felt like hot stakes
were being driven through
my eye sockets from the inside
– and there was no-one to help.
My wife and kids were in France
at the Rugby World Cup, and I was
alone at home and screaming in
agony. In that terrifying moment,
I knew I had to get help as quickly
as possible, but it would take
half an hour for an ambulance
to arrive. With the Milpark
Hospital emergency room
only four minutes away, I tried
desperately to book an Uber
as the pain overwhelmed me.
Writhing and wailing, I passed
out before I’d even made it past
the hospital reception. Hours later,
I woke up in a plastic isolation box
in the Neuro ICU ward.
The next few days were a blur
of fluorescent lights, machine
sounds, stretches of pain and
alternating moments of crystalclear lucidity and drug-filled
delirium. The pipes, needles and
endless tests merely exacerbated
my mental and physical anguish.
It was viral meningoencephalitis,
an infection of my spinal fluid,
meninges and brain. I was
informed that the severe
inflammation, if untreated,
could lead to death in a matter of
days. The treatment was a potent
intravenous drug called acyclovir,
In the Neuro
ICU ward at
Milpark Hospital,
Johannesburg,
September 2023.
38 | THE OLD DIOCESAN
which needed to be administered
for 21 days.
How did I get it? Sometimes,
there are no definitive answers.
It seems likely that I came into
contact with someone with
an active case of the virus,
and I must have inadvertently
touched my eyes, nose or mouth
with these viral cells, leading
to the attack on my system. To
make matters worse, mine was
an “atypical presentation” of the
inflammation, further complicated
by my severely compromised
immune system. The doctors
were convinced I was suffering
from an immune deficiency – an
autoimmune disease or perhaps
HIV – and yet the tests came
back negative.
As I fought off my unseen
menace, I found myself facing
off with death. I was compelled
to confront the transience of life
itself and thus the way we choose
to live our lives – more importantly,
how I had been choosing to live my
own. At the time, I was working
16 hours a day in my role as
the CEO of one of Africa’s
largest communications
groups and the chairman
of our industry association.
I was also drinking excessively.
Working ridiculous and
uncompromising hours and
drinking excessively are normal
in the world of marketing services.
I had been sacrificing my family
and my health for so long – and
for what?