Meet Zoe. She is a recently qualified architect and now doing her Master’s Degree. Her thesis will be around developing a sub-acute facility, and she has asked me if she can use our lodges to do her research. We had such fun when the MBA students from Gordon Institute of Business Science were here, and I certainly learned a lot, so when Zoe asked if I would allow her to do this project, I jumped at the opportunity.
We dug out our old building plans, and together Zoe and I poured over them. I explained the metamorphosis over the past 29 years, and even had some old photos to show her what the places looked like then, how small the trees were… and how young I was!
Walking around the property explaining how we changed structures, added rooms, knocked through extra doors, added windows, dug trenches and demolished wooden walls reminded me of how this business really always developed organically. If we knew in 1998 what we know now, we would have designed things so differently, but I suppose that is the beauty of new ideas and new concepts. If we had to follow the conventional routes, we would never have done what we are doing now.
We often let these rooms to patients’ family members. We have a permanent resident in one room (who actually happens to be a medical doctor transitioning back to SA after many years overseas), but what is surprising is that we also still have a huge number of corporate guests that keep coming despite our focus on patients’ respite, recovery and palliative care journeys.
While showing Zoe around, I realised that the buildings are only part of the lodge’s story. The people who pass through these rooms leave their mark too.
So now, meet Jason. Jason has been staying at the lodge for about nine years. He works as an engineer in a nearby company, and if the term was not so over-used, I would say that he is on the spectrum. Jason is with us at Sunninghill Lodge probably about every two weeks. He shyly greets me and seldom makes eye contact, always ordering the same breakfast, packed lunch and dinner. In all the years he has stayed with us, I don’t think we’ve ever exchanged more than the most superficial of pleasantries.
After showing Zoe around, we happened upon Jason talking to the team at the front desk. I asked him how he was and what was up. Immediately, he turned blood red and explained that he was there because something was wrong with his safe. He was desperately sorry that he was bothering the team and that he did not want us to think he was one of “those guests”. I laughed because he has never complained about anything, and if his safe is jamming, making us aware of it is certainly not an issue.
He said it was interesting watching us change our focus after covid and was surprised that it worked so well. (He added rather bluntly that he expected the concept to fail). I dared go a bit deeper in our conversation and asked him why he still chooses to stay here rather than one of the hotels or guest houses in the area that are, in fact, closer to his office.
He thought for a bit and then admitted that for a few months he tried out many other places, but something was always amiss. He went tomato-red again and said, “In the end I figured I’d rather spend my money with people who actually care, and you guys do.” I wanted to hug him right then and there and then…but thought that’d be pushing it.
I told Jason that we don’t just focus on one type of person, but have healthy and fit people, desperately ill people, people recovering from elective and very much not elected procedures or illness, and lots coming for tests and doctor’s visits. Somehow, this mix has a positive influence on everyone.
It is strange, but somehow, we seem to borrow courage and perspective from each other without even noticing. Something shifts when you realise you’re not the only one carrying pain or hope or fear under this roof, especially when you realise that fear, pain and hurt come in all different shapes and sizes… as does hope.
I told Jason about Angus (our patient on a ventilator from two blogs ago). We believe that being with us, as opposed to an ICU ward, or a ward in a facility for other people with his afflictions, lifts his spirits. If he sees Jason rushing to a meeting, or me working in the garden, or a child running to the pool, it reminds him there is a world out there of which he is very much still a part.
Jason left the dining room, looking rather pleased with himself – part of this community of people who care. By choosing to stay with us, he brings hope in the most gentle way and forms part of a human story we are writing here – one where different lives, illnesses and journeys somehow help each other heal.
When I meet with Zoe tomorrow to answer some of her questions, I hope I can explain to her that the soul of our place does not lie in the bricks and ramps and handrails, but in the way we love and care, and are willing to show up for each other. We can draw up plans, tick boxes and create beautiful physical spaces, but it’s the unique human beings that fill the spaces that create something truly special.
And speaking of people……here are a few photo’s of us over the years.
