It was 1987 and it was a winter’s night filled with snow in a picture perfect York.
I was transferred to take charge of an elderly ward as staffing was dire.
I was a very junior staff nurse supported by two support workers.
The support workers were two Jamaican ladies of mature years.
I was told to refer to them with a respectful " Mrs Lewis and Mrs Dawson by the handover nurse
" They will show you the ropes" I was told carefully.
I had never really spoke to a person of colour before. You never saw many non whites back then in North Wales and Chester, where I grew up and trained as a psychiatric nurse, but I was bright enough even then not to pull rank on two experienced nurse aides, and so I stepped back and allowed myself to be told what to do.
Mrs Lewis and Mrs Dawson worked at their own pace. They were unhurried and respectful, as they washed dirty bottoms and undressed the confused and the mute and I watched with some awe as together they bedded down 25 confused elderly ladies with the tired and practiced ease of two broad hipped grandmothers that had seen some hardship over a 40 year career.
They sang together as they worked and they laughed and hugged their patients with warmth when hugs were needed and by midnight the ward was quiet as they dished out their own suppers of rice and peas and jerk chicken at the nurses station.
I was given a plate too, with a napkin and a glass of homemade ginger cordial and as I listened to them chat and laugh and I answered their questions about my home and family I realised just how sheltered I had been for the first 20 years of my life
At 6 am I asked their Christian names.....Matilda and Angel, I was told and we all laughed....
It was a cold and snowy night in York and I took charge of an elderly ward of 25 senile patients
And I learnt more about good nursing care and life from two black, big hearted support workers in 10 hours than I ever did from three years of my psychiatric nurse training.
I was told to refer to them with a respectful " Mrs Lewis and Mrs Dawson by the handover nurse
" They will show you the ropes" I was told carefully.
I had never really spoke to a person of colour before. You never saw many non whites back then in North Wales and Chester, where I grew up and trained as a psychiatric nurse, but I was bright enough even then not to pull rank on two experienced nurse aides, and so I stepped back and allowed myself to be told what to do.
Mrs Lewis and Mrs Dawson worked at their own pace. They were unhurried and respectful, as they washed dirty bottoms and undressed the confused and the mute and I watched with some awe as together they bedded down 25 confused elderly ladies with the tired and practiced ease of two broad hipped grandmothers that had seen some hardship over a 40 year career.
They sang together as they worked and they laughed and hugged their patients with warmth when hugs were needed and by midnight the ward was quiet as they dished out their own suppers of rice and peas and jerk chicken at the nurses station.
I was given a plate too, with a napkin and a glass of homemade ginger cordial and as I listened to them chat and laugh and I answered their questions about my home and family I realised just how sheltered I had been for the first 20 years of my life
At 6 am I asked their Christian names.....Matilda and Angel, I was told and we all laughed....
It was a cold and snowy night in York and I took charge of an elderly ward of 25 senile patients
And I learnt more about good nursing care and life from two black, big hearted support workers in 10 hours than I ever did from three years of my psychiatric nurse training.
Bootham park hospital York in winter
Thank you for sharing this beautiful memory with us, John. x
ReplyDeleteXx
DeleteWonderful story, John. And wonderful women. I'm so glad you were smart enough to listen and observe experience at work.
ReplyDeleteEven then I think I had an innate ability to realise what was the right thing to do
DeleteWonderful memory… thanks for sharing! Cali
ReplyDelete🩷🩷🩷🌈🙏
DeleteWhat a heartwarming story, John. I wonder if all lucky young nurses are blessed with experienced and lovely support workers to learn from them and to remember forever?
ReplyDeleteIt was a sunny early Sunday morning in L&D where I was the only RN (first job!) and had two experienced techs with me. A laboring multip arrived sure she'd deliver soon but I did have time to call the OB doctor. We got her into the delivery room, positioned, and connected the monitors. The nurse anesthetist arrive and was surprised to see me ready to catch the baby. I was surprised, too, but the tech beside me told me my job was to cradle the baby's head and neck with my right hand and to grab one leg and hold on tight so the baby didn't fall into the kick bucket! I did, all went well, the OB doctor arrived in time to cut the cord and that baby girl is now 52 years old! I bought the techs lunch! That's not all I learned from those more experienced than I was.
Hugs!
What a lovely story
DeleteThank u
Delighted to see Angel, Matilda, and their friend!
DeleteA lovely story John, thank you. Such warm hearted honesty is what is going to make your book something special (nudge nudge!) As ever, it just goes to prove that paper qualifications are all very well, but it takes more than exams to make a nurse, but especially to make a good one. Love the image of you with your jerk chicken and rice in one hand, ginger cordial in the other, listening quietly and learning at the feet of two angels. And for keeping them in your heart all this time. Hope they know.
ReplyDeleteI remember looking at their beautiful black faces
DeleteAnd how they smelled of coconut oil
And how they sang in a sing song way I’ve never heard before
And I learned a great deal
Fuck John you’ve done it again
ReplyDeleteCrying at 3 pm
And I’ve not had a drink yet
Lee
Get a grip
DeleteExperience is what counts when it comes down to it.
ReplyDeleteSometimes that gets forgotten in our age of paper qualifications and status.
It’s a nice memory
DeleteYou can learn the theory and practicalities of nursing from books, but the true essence of a good nurse is empathy, humanity, humour and caring. Those ladies had those qualities in abundance. I'm sure they would be delighted to know you remember them with such respect and fondness. xx
ReplyDeleteI’m lucky I’ve got an instinctive attraction to warmth and pragmatism
DeleteYou learned from the best.
ReplyDeleteI did
DeleteMy late father was a charge nurse and always said the same, never underestimate experience nursing aids. He had a consultant who was also Welsh. They did ward rounds in Welsh, even though the hospital was in Cornwall. He translated information for other staff.
ReplyDeleteIf there were Cornish speakers on the ward they'd have understood the gist of what was being said. It's the same in NW France - all land joined together many moons ago.
DeleteI love, love, love this story.❤️ Carol in Atl
ReplyDeleteBeautifully told! Fortune has smiled upon you numerous times during your career, and you have learned so very, very much from those around you, nurses, support staff, and patients. I suspect more than a few younger nurses have learned equally from you.
ReplyDeleteHugs, John dear.
Just now I finished a book for my book club which is about nursing. I know you probably don't have much time for casual reading, but this book moved me to tears...and I don't cry often. If you can find a copy, it is an excellent read. The book is "The Women" by Kristen Hannah. The topic is about the nurses in Viet Nam, and their lives upon returning home. There were over 10,000 nurses serving during the long Viet Nam conflict and yet years later, Veterans Associations and politicians said there were no women in Viet Nam. They had no support. It is fiction but riddled with truth. Your stories deserve to be written in a book also.
ReplyDeletePlease write your book I have laughed and cried at so many of your memories and love the respect and care that your stories illustrate.
ReplyDeleteWhen my late mother was in the nursing home, she had a wonderful Hispanic nurse's aide named Genera who told me my mother liked it when she sang to her while she washed my mother's hair. Could've knocked me over with a feather because at that point my mother's dementia made her revile me regularly. But I was glad she was kinder to the nurses and aides who did so much for her.
ReplyDeleteAnother great story for your book. I know about the slow pace as we were in Grenada for so long. One day hubby and I were walking down the road and were overtaken by a very large black woman. I turned to hubby and said “ I think we have slowed down too much. Gigi
ReplyDeleteMy nanny /housekeeper was from Grenada, she was fast, fast fast. "Always polish the chrome! [faucets] Always fluff the couch pillows..." she'd murmur, pushing me out the door, knowing she'd get everything done.
DeleteThe image of a snowy night in York is so refreshing on this hot sun-intense NY beach afternoon in August. You have mentioned these women previously; it was, I think, an important experience for you.[ Imagining 20 year old John...]
ReplyDeletebrings me to tears, John.....but these angels only nurtured what was already inside your heart. Wonderful reminisence for you, I'm sure, to think of them so fondly
ReplyDeleteSusan M/ Calif.
It is so easy to stereotype. Indigenous people in Canada face a lot of discrimination. When I worked in geriatics there were two lovely indigenous support nurses on my unit. Yes, they worked at their own pace but 40 yrs later I remember their patience, kindness and empathy. I loved working with them and often bring them to mind when my own patience is wearing thin.
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful story. Thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteWise choice on your part to listen carefully and learn from those two ladies. Well done.
ReplyDeleteI wrote once about the regret I have that I didn't have any friends who were dark skinned. I do now have one black friend, and he is charming, but life in Surrey/Sussex and S W France meant that our paths never crossed. I still regret it today.
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