"I'll admit I may have seen better days, but I'm still not to be had for the price of a cocktail, "(Margo Channing)
'What Me Mam Taught Me'
A Little Piece Of Home
Bluebell
Two night Shift Stories
It’s a completely unnatural time to be working, which encroaches not only on the day you work but the day before and the day after.
It’s like being effectively jet lagged once a week and research has proved the practice to be dangerous to physical and psychological well being .
Working nights can also be dangerous. You are on minimal staffing, have minimal resources , and in 40 years I have been involved in several violent situations , all centred on a night shift where help often didn’t come.
Night time, is also the time people are at their lowest ebb…..that’s why more people pass away in the wee small hours than anytime else.
My worst night shift ever was back in my psychiatric days
“ After I qualified as a staff nurse in mental health' I got a job in a prestigious psychiatric hospital in North Yorkshire. The hospital had only seven wards which were all situated within a beautiful Regency style building in it's own grounds. The wards were carpeted and sympathetically decorated in a period style and their day rooms filled with comfortable sofas and occasional furniture.It was a pleasant place in which to work.
I was placed on the mother and baby unit , where seriously ill post partum women and their offspring were admitted for treatment, but most of the other wards catered for acutely mentally ill patients, patients with cognitive impairments and people suffering severe epilepsy..
Staffing generally was very good , but when there was an emergency situation on a ward then an alarm bell would sound and each ward would send a " runner" to help with whatever problem was afoot. No wards were ever locked.
I was telling some of the junior staff this story last night whilst on a break, as a sort of lesson of how Intensive Care is one of the few places in nursing that is probably safest from assault and injury ....things in the early 1980s could be very different!
I remember one night at the hospital when at around 4am the alarm bell sounded. I was one of the five nurses who responded to the call,
The emergency was on the epilepsy assessment ward , a ward staffed by both general and mental health nurses. On duty were three nurses. A heavily pregnant girl, a young staff nurse just out of training and an experienced male staff nurse. All three had been sitting in what was essentially a glass box which overlooked the dormitory of patients on two sides.
Out of nowhere, a powerfully built male patient had suddenly become agitated and very confused and had hurled himself at the windows of the nurses station. He shattered the glass with his body, and like an animal he went for the nurses inside. The male nurse hit the emergency buzzer then bolted out of the office to get help, but as he ran, the office door bounced shut , locking the two women inside. The pregnant nurse, with great presence of mind clambered over a desk and jumped through a window into the grounds to safety but unfortunately the patient caught hold of the young female staff nurse before she could flee.
By the time we arrived on the scene a couple of minutes later, the patient had fractured her jaw and had broken her arm as well as biting her badly on the side of the face.
This was the only time , I have been truly frightened at work Over the years I have been personally abused many times by patients and relatives alike. I have been screamed at, shouted at, spat at and in one case threatened with a broken teapot! but this situation with a brain damaged patient and a young helpless staffnuse still lingers long in the mind.
A scary story to share with a group of nurses in the wee small hours of the morning eh?”
The Art Wall part 1
The next couple of blogs will explain, in part, the significance of the paintings, and drawings and prints and fabrics chosen. It’s not static, it has to be fluid , but most, (but not all) have a special significance to me
First it is this little map
This was a gift , a secret Santa gift given to me on the first Christmas I worked at the hospice. It was given to me by Sionad a woman that couldn’t be more Welsh if you had dipped her in a mixture dragon poo and Bara Brith
It signifies the purchase of my cottage. A thing that could only have happened when I managed to get a full time job and a contract saying so. Despite my age, the Halifax took me on as a customer and the cottage and the village remained mine and Sionad remembered my relief on that day and had the map made accordingly as a Christmas gift.
Note there is a heart and a Gray ( Grey) one where the cottage stands