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    SAMJ: South African Medical Journal

    On-line version ISSN 2078-5135Print version ISSN 0256-9574

    SAMJ, S. Afr. med. j. vol.98 n.3 Pretoria Mar. 2008

     

    OBITUARIES

     

    Hans (Johannes Jacobus) Loock (4/11/1930 -17/9/2007)

     

     

    James Loock; Diane Nel (Loock)

     

     

     

    Our father, Hans Loock, was born an only child on a remote farm in the Willowmore district. His father sent him, at the age of 12, to Muir College, Uitenhage, to learn English, where in his teens he met our mother, Val Burger.

    They excelled at school, and came together to study at Groóte Schuur Hospital. He was a born doctor, thanks, particularly, to a very lucid and logical mind, exceptional practical skills and dexterity which made him a natural surgeon, and a meticulous and caring personality. Jannie Louw wanted him to become a surgeon, but he belonged in his beloved Karoo.

    It seems trite to enumerate his achievements: suffice to say that he practised his profession in the spirit of dedicated general practitioners of the old school; that he regarded the practice of medicine as a privilege; and that he was adored and respected by the Graaff-Reinet community he and our mother chose to serve for 45 years.

    To our dismay, Dad contracted adenocarcinoma of the lung and died held fast, as in his whole life, by the woman with whom he shared complete devotion, Val.

    We were inundated with calls and letters from patients wanting to express what he had meant to them, of which this poem by one of his patients, Dr Oscar Prozesky, is an example.

    Hans Loock
    1930-2007

    He has not died
    He has merely gone
    From this world To the next,
    Walking calmly
    From one room
    To another.

    There is no death
    For those who love
    And serve.
    Their memory,
    A fragrance,
    Lingers
    On the living air,
    Their voices speak
    In the inmost ear
    Of those they loved,
    Of those,
    Remembering,
    Who loved them.

    And so with Dr Hans.
    'Yes, bey,' and
    'No, butgoed,'
    I hear him saying
    To a boy, his patient,
    Forty years ago.
    I hear him still.

    I see him in his surgery,
    Surrounded by the
    Instruments,
    The tools of his
    Unwearied and
    God-given trade.
    I see and hear,
    And once again
    I am a boy
    And halfway healed
    And comforted.

    In a heart-sacred
    And undying place
    I see his face
    His clever, wise,
    And kind,
    Compassionate eyes.

    Graaff-Reinet