I thought that I would give him and newer blog readers a snippit of the background of this lovable turkey stag , which will perhaps answer Tomas' question with a huge and emphatic NO!
One weekend , a couple of years ago I worked on ITU with an elderly lady that was seriously ill. She was in fact in the twilight of her life and as her life ebbed away , I had the opportunity to chat about her history in the hills in and around the market town of Denbigh!
This lady ( I will call her Menna) was a farmers wife for 57 years. We talked for hours about hens and ducks and sheep and cows......and before I left my last nursing shift with her, I remember sharing the fact that I always wanted to have a turkey of my own!!!
The lady was transferred from intensive care to a general ward. And she sadly died a day or so later.....but two weeks later I received a phone call from her daughter stating that she had a gift for me, which had been "arranged" by her mother when she was a patient with us
The gift was two turkey poults. Tiny and so very sweet at 4 weeks old.... and the stag, which turned out to be the huge and bombastic Boris is still with me today............and will remain with me for many years to come
How wonderful. What a kindness she did you. That's wonderful that Boris is still with you. ♥
ReplyDeleteThat is too sweet! Look at you two.....friends forever!
ReplyDeleteJim
Aw, what a lovely story. No wonder you're not going to eat him.
ReplyDeleteNow theres a face only a mother could love!!
ReplyDeleteThe fact that you find him endearing when he can be a bit if a brute is quite a mystery to some of us but then funnier things happen don't they lol
What a lovely story. And a great photo!
ReplyDeleteoh you are a big softy at heart....what a lovely story.
ReplyDeleteGill in Canada
I figured that there had to be a special story about Boris, and it is!
ReplyDeleteYou have a gentle heart Sir !
ReplyDeletePeople and animals alike love you for your ways...
What fine looking gentlemen you are ;)
Right then, that's that sorted out once and for all.
ReplyDeleteIf you're not going to eat him, can I please?
(note restraint in making no 'gobbling' jokes)
P.S. - Cathy - When you said "A face that only a mother could love", were you talking of Boris, or John?
ReplyDeleteSurely Tom was pulling your leg about eating Boris!
ReplyDeleteWhen my life ebbs away, I hope someone will talk about horses to me. You did a great kindness.
eat Boris for Christmas? omg! I'm glad you straightened that guy out. You two are darling together.
ReplyDeleteI think it's lovely photo of the two of you.
ReplyDeleteI can honestly say I've never seen anyone who has had their pic taken with a turkey - at least one that still has all its feathers!
You obviously touched her heart that she wanted to give you such a meaningful gift!
ReplyDeleteI take it this means that Boris is fully recovered from his illness?
Two handsome chaps!
ReplyDeleteThat story is going to make my Christmas Turkey hard to swallow. xxxxx
ReplyDeleteYou've got me in tears again with your kindness John, and I'd only just put my eyes on.lol
ReplyDeleteOh my, what a lovely story! And to think all we gave my father-in-law's nurses was a box of choccies! :)
ReplyDeleteLove that pic of you and Boris!
That's a lovely story! What a kindness you and Menna did for each other!!! I think Boris is very cute...you too John! xxxx oooo
ReplyDeleteJohn you are such a kind and caring person. You made that sweet ladys life much more pleasant at the end. I didn't know the story before, but I knew Boris was never going to be Thanksgiving dinner.
ReplyDeleteThat is the most heart warming turkey story I have ever heard...what a sweet, sweet lady.
ReplyDeleteI could never eat him either.
John I understand why Boris means so much to you now. Such a nice thing for that lady to do ...but it was her way of thanking you for helping her pass her last days thinking of happy memories rather than the inevitable. You're a good soul John. Hope your day has been a good one so far.
ReplyDeleteMaura :)
What a beautiful gift!
ReplyDeleteHugs,
Mal
What a lovely story. You sound like an "old school" nurse - spending time with patients instead of ticking off targets, filling spreadsheets and mulling over your professional development plan. Do they have a degree module called "How to Chat to Patients" ?
ReplyDeletepUD
ReplyDeletethis is an old blog entry and underlines just why I am a bedside nurse
Our Nursing group was young , malleable and with a couple of exceptions very Liverpudlian. That fact alone meant that were were not always an easy group to challenge and to mould, but Mr Brint in his own quiet and dignified way did make us question our motivations and practice and did help us develop into top notch psychiatric nurses. He never raised his voice, (he never had to), nor did he hide(or apologise for) his religious roots and love for the theatrical (he taught us all to ballroom dance in one lesson so that we could all attend a elderly ward's social night).He was camp as a row of tents, he laughed long and often and he always celebrated the strengths of his students without any ridicule of our weaknesses. Our loyalty to him was justified and sincere.
I always thought Mr Brint to be a nurse well before his time, especially when It came to experiential learning. He spent hours in our teaching time, encouraging us to explore our feelings and self awareness,looking back on it all, he was our therapist for a full three years!
I remember discussing one red letter day with him and our group just after my first elderly placement on a long stay elderly ward (it was termed psycogerries back then).....I find it strange that the memory comes to my mind just now:-
As a student nurse working in the last days of asylum care, life was sometimes a little tough! My elderly placement was on a ward called Dunham Ward. The place was a bleak Victorian prison like building with a Nightingale dormitory for 24 senile men and had a staff of five per shift to care for them. Early shifts were a never ending slog of washing,toileting,changing, feeding and bed making. It was relentless and at times soul destroying, but generally the staff were upbeat and friendly and placements were usually only 12 weeks long!
One day I remember making the patients' drinks in the kitchen. I was tired and fed up, so was carelessly slopping tea into the variety of nhs cups and feeder beakers.Our kitchen was shared by our "sister" ward called Daresbury, which was the female version of Duham ward, as I brewed the tea I could look out from a serving hatch into the ward's day room, where 20 old ladies were all slumped in their chairs which were all set up against the walls!
As I stood there, I could see one male visitor sat presumably with his wife. He was drinking coffee from a flask and she looked as though she was asleep. I remember she had her grey hair in a small tight bun. Slowly he put down his drink and holding onto her hands, he eased the lady to her feet. I thought he must have been preparing her to go to the toilet, but he didn't call a nurse or do that thing that carers have to do from time to time,and that is to check for wet spots!, he just pulled his wife to her feet and held her close before he started to dance with her.
The woman staggered at first and then they both tottered around for a while, but slowly muscle memory kicked in and the couple started to waltz passably around the big room , infront of 20 pairs of unseeing eyes. It was an incredibly moving moment and one that remains with me over 24 years later! In seconds, I had learnt the incredible lesson of the importance of personalised and holistic care.
Oh wow. What a wonderful experience. Her legacy/memory is living on through those turkeys she left you.
ReplyDeleteI love it.
I wouldn't part with him either! What a great story.
ReplyDelete~Andrea~