“Have Yourself A Merry Little.....”

 

This evening I was asked what is my favourite memory of any Christmas 

What a hard question this is to answer.

I’m feeling rather anti social tonight, and the hospice remains quiet , so I busied myself with some mindless checks of sell by dates of the unit’s drugs, and I thought about specific Christmases of note.

Having a Christmas review, I think, is very much like owning a succession of dogs. Each one has its own personality but there is a tendency of every one merging into each other.

Some stand out for the oddest reasons.

The year my father fell under the Christmas tree in his underpants with one of his more glamorous but equally pissed in laws. 

The year each one of the family had to share some sort of dramatic or comic performance, each one excelling the other.

Lying on a sofa with a partner covered in dogs one sunny and lazy Christmas morning 

Last year listening to a colleague sing silent night with a dying patient at 6 am 

Childhood memories are a collage of 1970s tv, warm prawn cocktails and peanuts in glass bowls that before had been used as ash trays .

A visit to a poor psychiatric patient in their home , which had no carpets but still being offered me a mince pie and a cup of tea

The memories feed off each other and bounce around like poleroid photos in the wind.

I am reminded of a late shift one Christmas Day ( always the most hated) when I was charge Nurse on Osborn 1 at The Princess Royal Spinal Unit in Sheffield

It was dark, perhaps late afternoon and the majority of bed fast patients had many visitors surrounding them ,like musk oxen surrounding their young and weak 

Three African nurses were on duty with me and they were pushing a very drunk and smiling patient on his bed back to the ward from the smoking room .

He was nursing a rather robust looking bottle of port

And true to form, they were singing all in low easy voices......one pushing the bed, one pulling and the other holding tight to the patient’s hand.

Several of the relatives came and stood in the corridor to listen, as I did at my office door as the procession went passed and I cannot hear this song without thinking of the pure humanity of that little moment 

What’s your special Christmas memory ?

My Christmas Card To You

 

It’s been a quiet night so far. My patients are sleeping pain free and the hospice is silent save for the gentle whirl of the photocopier fan in the office and the cough of a patient .

I’ve started to write my Christmas cards this evening.

It’s been a difficult year for everyone , so I’m taking my time .

The cards have a linen finish and it’s lovely to write on them with an ink pen bought specially for the job.

Another treat realised because of covid

Another small joy out of no where.

It’s been a funny old year all told and one where it may be hard work picking out the good bits.

My 2020 has been a growth year. 

My decree absolute severed those final ties to the divorce I never wanted and despite the lockdown new friends have appeared and old ones maintained through zoom and phone and thought.

I am lucky, luckier than most

Luckier than many

So here’s is my Christmas Card to you readers

It’s is a thank you and a greeting and I send it knowing how supported I feel that you pop in so regularly to read the journals of a very ordinary Welshman who is trying to make sense of a world which is sometimes hard work.

Going Gently is not a public forum with my life up for debate, it’s a place for a ramble and a share and I am grateful for a shared good humour from nearly all of you as I so just that

So let’s all of us have a peaceful time this year.

I shall be working Christmas Eve then hope to meet up with my sisters for a walk and a present swap and perhaps a turkey sandwich and soup in the garden or by the beach.

And that will be nice 

2020 has taught us all to treasure the small and the once overlooked and taken for granted 

But I will be glad when it’s over 

Hey ho

Say it loud and other minor thoughts

• I haven’t much to share today, it’s grey and chilly
• I wore shorts when out for a walk with the girls this morning even though it was cold. I have patches of  psoriasis on my knees which I defiantly show off from time to time. 
• I’m working nights until after Christmas, I’m cooking a shepherds pie ready for supper at work tonight 
• My nephew who is 18 and has Aspergers, has just got his first job, I just told him how proud I am of him and I think that’s so important..if you are proud say it loud ....my parents seldom praised me as a kid
• I’ve bathed the dogs, Mary with her anti fungal. Winnie and Dorothy with pears baby shampoo and Winnie has had a rare once over with her fanny flannel....the cottage smells fragrant again
• I’ve just missed an invitation for coffee by Chic Eleanor and with nights now will only be able catch up with next week, it will be refreshing to see her .
• I had my first Christmas cards today one off Sue and the other from a ‘cold and dark Sweden’
• I will leave you with this delightful impersonation of Miss Peggy Lee followed by a Christmas message from Fascinating Aida 

Dido’s Lament

 Thank you to Sheffield John who gave me the heads up Queen Lennox is back

Haunting, and incredibly moving

Swallows and Hangovers

 

I met my friend for dinner last night and both of us are suffering from a gin based hangover from hell this morning. 

I took the girls up the Gop to blow away the cobwebs and burped pink gin at almost every step.

Lovely. 

Looking down on the village, it is easy to see the older houses of Trelawnyd. 

As in many Welsh villages the older houses have names rather than house numbers to tell them apart and these names are officially linked to the house postcode so cannot easily be changed.

My cottage is called Bwthyn y Llan which literally means Church Cottage.

The more historic name for it and it’s sister cottage next door was Tan y Fynwent which literally means under the graveyard.

I always liked the name Mrs Miniver gave to her home. 

It was simply called Starlings, and with that in mind I have just hung some cheerful blue birds on the front of the cottage

Hey ho

Brunch

Dorothy and I have gone out for brunch. We have taken Rubber Chicken too as he doesn't get out much.

A large americano at the Horizon cafe in Colwyn Bay is the order of the day.

The barista here makes the most fabulous of coffee..its all in the milk, he explains.

Affable despot Jason's elder daughter is 15 today. I dropped a card in before we left and Hattie picked up mary before that for their 1:1 time. I left her a wrapped christmas decoration in the shape of a terrier.

She a nice girl

Its dry today and not too cold, so the village seems more alive than it did. Animal helper Pat was out walking, as was old Trev who wanted me to change his old fluorescent tube lights for him.

I've been changing them for years

I'm meeting a friend for dinner later

The beach promenade is busy with walkers too....they must be sick of the sound of rubber chicken squeaking 

 

I’m a celebrity

 The tv programme is in essence a reflection of life under lockdown and covid 

The celebs face adversity and unhappiness in that awful tv show  but they are in a group of essentially rather nice individuals 

They are winning through with kindness to each other and

I am loving this years’ programme 

What a lovely bunch of people 

Nos Da

 

One of the oldest rules in nursing is the one about self disclosure.

A Professional distance must be kept at all times.

I generally subscribe to this notion.

But not always.

Not quite and I will tell you why.

Recently I had a patient who had been admitted for symptom control .

Often these patients need a short sharp bout of medical and nursing care to alleviate problems before going home again.

They are still dying, but the end is not quite in full sight.

I nursed my patient on consecutive nights and so we quite quickly developed a rapport and an understanding how things needed to be done.

I am an efficient nurse who doesn’t fanny arse around and she appreciated this. 

In between turns and medications and dressings she asked me direct questions about my life and I got the impression she wasn’t being nosey, she was just being interested , interested in something that wasn’t her life of carers and of cancer and of isolation and of dying.

She fed on the nuggets of a life outside hers with a sort of hunger

She had little experience of gay marriage and she dug deep and quickly into my divorce and my thoughts of being single again, of adoption and gay rights but when the work was done she would settle quickly under her fleece blankets , close her eyes and say  “ Nos da” ( Welsh for Goodnight) until I saw her again in the morning.

I worked a lot of nights with her 

The day of her discharge eventually came and that morning, around 6 am I turned her and made her comfortable before I went off duty.

It was still dark outside, but you could just see the ghostly shapes of the Welsh goats as they pastured on the side of the Orme from her room window.

Just before I left the room she said quietly“ I’ve enjoyed our chats..... I won’t see you again will I?”

“ Probably Not” I said as gently as I could, a little burst of sadness in the air

“ Nos da” she said carefully

“ Nos da” I repeated 

And I silently closed the door to finish my rounds.....