A Thank You

Remember that I gave a lecture to a group of seven year olds at the village school?
Well the mother of one of the lads popped up to the cottage yesterday evening with a sick bantam in a box.
The Prof snorted a warning comment of " No more sick bastard hens in this house" before I marched out, but he need not have worried, as the little bantam was literally beyond any help I could offer.
I examined the little bird and gave some pointers to the lady of how to keep her comfortable and she left secure in the thought that she had now done her best.
I know this as when I locked the birds up for the night , on the garden gate there was hung a small package of scotch eggs with two cream scones in a bag.
A thank you for my consultation.
After a shitty night shift and before an even busier day shift today.
It was a bloody lovely treat!

This Is How I Feel Today

This is how I feel today

Blog Break

Whilst a selected few intensive care nurses live it up in Marbella this weekend, grunts like me get the bum deal with shifts to cover the unit. I worked night shift last night and am due back for a twelve hour shift tomorrow daytime .
Hope my colleagues are enjoying their pina coladas! 

Shoot The Damm Dog

It very much looks as though the journalist, magazine editor and agony aunt Sally Brampton took her own life earlier this week.
She has written much about her life long experience with depression, indeed before I started work as a Samaritan, her book Shoot The Damm Dog- a Memoir Of Depression was one of my suggested background reads.
Last night, I was reminded of a quote from that book. It is, perhaps, the most graphic yet simple explanation of the suicidal act.

" Killing oneself, anyway is a misnomer. We don't kill ourselves. We are simply defeated by the long, hard struggle to stay alive. When somebody dies after a long illness, people are apt to say, with a note of approval, "He fought so hard." And they are inclined to think, about a suicide, that no fight was involved, that somebody simply gave up. This is quite wrong.”

Postscript

A postscript to the last post....a comment by another Trelawnyd-ite forwarded on to me this evening

" He usually has a box of dog biscuits in that basket ready for any passing dog walker...he's such a character, he makes me laugh...when I had finish my chemotherapy and my hair was just growing back (you know the fledging look!) he briskly strolled past me in the village hall calling out in his booming voice..."hello flower, wow your barber is even worse than mine!" You've got to laugh! Xxx" 

Another Day, Another Lunatic

A sunny day and the " Marian " lane seemed almost black with mayflies this morning. Everyone seems out in the sunshine. Fan of  The Walking Dead pensione John  escorted Auntie Glad to the town bus still holding his mug of tea and policeman Ian could be seen chatting to Basil the farmer at the top of High Street, they both waved. I thought I'd spied Trendy Carol driving by, wearing something interesting in chiffon but I couldn't be sure. The sun was too bright on the main road.

Mary and I had just reached  The Crown ( for those that don't know, The Crown in the village pub) when, far in the distance we spied a strange figure emerging from the heat haze on the road.
The vision looked almost ethereal
It reminded me of Omar Sharif on that camel scene in Lawrence Of Arabia
Slowly......details started to emerge from out of the mirage,
Until finally Gay Gordon on his invalid trolley trundled magnificently into view
" Hello Flower" he bellowed " Nice day for a drive!" Obviously oblivious of the string of usually fast moving traffic wanting to pass....
" You'll kill yourself on that thing" I called out after the final lorry had rumbled by
And Gordon bellowed out a lusty laugh....." My legs needed an airing" pointing at his corned beef shins.........bugger knows just where he had been!
Mary bounced up into his lap,she as most dogs seem to like this strange loud  village character and Gordon was thrilled to find out her name as his " lady friend" with whom he shares his life is also called Mary. Big Mary, as you may remember looks like a large cheerful scatter cushion with half the stuffing removed.!

A delivery van wizzed by, inches from Gordon's oversized shopping basket, but he didn't seem to notice and I said my goodbyes. " see you soon!" I called
"TALLY HO!" He sang out as the invalid trolley shot off into the village!
There is something almost valiant about Gordon I always think!

A Masterclass

I'm not a fan of the actor of Tom Hanks but after just listening to him on the podcast of Desert Island Discs I found him to be a charming and rather delightful individual.
His memory of his lonely, movie filled childhood had a certain resonance with me, especially his explanation of how, at the time, he didn't understand or had the vocabulary to explain or articulate to himself, what bothered or upset him.
The interview was a fascinating testament to how loneliness made him a great actor.
It also underlined just how good Kirsty Young is as an interviewer; she led him exactly where she wanted him to go.
Wonderful Radio

Not much happened to me today.
Oh I did slip out of my right croc and stumbled into a shop dummy in the woman's section of Marks & Spencers.

A Policeman's Lot

A still from the Welsh Running man video

Today a score or so North Walian police officers downloaded their version of the Running Man Challenge to youtube.
It's not the most entertaining " police" video of this latest Internet craze but you can't blame them for trying.
It's nice seeing the thin blue line having a bit of fun for a change.
Historically, nurses and police get very well.
I think we share the same gallows humour as well as experience of seeing people often at their very worst.
Police officers have come to the aid of nurses in trouble many a time.
and many a time nurses have treated police personnel for their trouble.
I have always been a fan of the  boys ( and girls ) in blue.

I was chatting to two police officers who live in the village the other day. We were all listening to a domestic argument in a nearby house. " Domestics" , I was told with some authority, were often the most thankless and at times dangerous disturbances to be called out to.

I can't think of anyone else but police that have to deal with such miserable aspects of a job.

Years ago, I was once part of a psychiatric nurse team who had to retrieve a sectioned patient from their house in the community. We were accompanied by four extremely large Yorkshire policemen and my job in the whole event was to look after the syringes of intramuscular chlorpromazine . Sedation which I had to inject into the patient's buttocks if all went tits up.

Then I was only 23 and rather slight in stature. I also wore a very unflattering  thick woolly jumper which made me look like a presenter of a  1980s childrens' tv show. I couldn't have been less of an asset to such a venture if I'd put on a gingham dress and platted my hair, but there we go.

Nowadays the police have all sort of equipment and protocols to follow in such situations as I am sure psychiatric nurses now do. Then , I chose the biggest and most manly policeman and stood behind him.
" Are you the lad with the drugs? " the policeman asked me when I peeped around his biceps to see what was going on
" yes " I gulped weakly
" Keep behind me, don't get in the way and if you need to jab the guy, I'll call you" he instructed carefully. He sounded like Freddie Truman
I nodded, white faced and shivered helplessly when he added
" and prick me with that needle and I'll fucking batter you!"