Vacancy

The final countdown has begun. In just over a week I will finish my 18 month journey at Ruanui Health Centre and move north to Hamilton. Over the last month I’ve had numerous patients come in to have their final visits and say their goodbyes, many acknowledging their appreciation with hugs and a few with small tokens of gratitude. In a lot of ways it’s been really sad. Not only have I gotten to know these people as patients, but also as friends. Many have taken me under their wing, guided me through the journey, made sure I was well feed, taught me the intricacies of New Zealand life, culture, and language. One particular patient epitomizes this all encompassing support: June. She’s a lovely 83 year old, short-statured woman who in many ways reminds me of my grandmother. Weekly she would call me at home and see how I was doing. She directed me to all the wool shops in the country so that I was well supplied for my knitting hobby. Monthly she would invite me to dinner and update me on all the gossip of the town and of her neighbours living in pensioners flats. Last night I attended my last dinner at June’s flat. It was a sad event in retrospect because I’ve come to enjoy these visits. True to form she cooked me a lovely dinner, we discussed all the gossip and afterwards we sat in front of the electric heater, drinking our cups of tea and knitting. However, this night was special because it added another phrase to my New Zealand vernacular. Having finished the meal, I mistakenly let out a small eructation. Quite embarrassed by the whole thing, June simply looked at me, smiled, and replied, “Better to have a vacant home, then an unwanted tenant.” Oh, June, how I’m going to miss you.