At teatime, I was sat with my coffee and sausage bap ( with glorious fried onions thanks Hospice Chef) in the staff room and I was messaging my rather tipsy friend Ben in South Korea on my iPad.
It was 2 am over there and we had a big fat manly virtual hug before he fell asleep on the couch!
Nia and family
At home I caught up with friend Argentinian Carlos on his holiday cruise to the Falklands, epic and moving, he loved it
I’ve been writing an essay most of the day and have only seen one person this morning, which was Polish Monica who was out for her run. I did however receive a somewhat mysterious follow up message from Mererid a lady I don’t know well at all and who lives on the side of the Gop. She texted me yesterday saying
“ Hi John, I wonder if I could pop down to see you for a few minutes when you’re available please? Will explain when I see you!! Mererid” and this morning adding “ Sorry to be so mysterious, it’s just I’d like to speak to you about it face to face. Nothing at all to worry about. See you later between 5 and 6 , thank you.”
I was intrigued
She arrived just after five pm, and sat on the couch rather primly only to be bounced on by Roger who has no understanding of social etiquette.
It took me a while to drag him off her, and she had the slightly tousled look any attractive woman had after my father had wished them Happy New Year at one of our family parties .She tried to concentrate but it was hard after Roger waved his paws excitedly from under my arm.
It put her off her stride just a little
Anyway to cut a long story short , she wants to introduce me to a friend of hers from just outside Chester
The weather is spring-like this morning, and that’s glorious.I have an essay to complete so I’m on the way to the uni library, but stopped at the beach at Colwyn Bay to drink coffee and have the breeze on my face.
A troll rather stupidly asked why Ive been talking about death so much recently
I’ve been to two funerals this week and work in a hospice !
Duh
Go figure!
I watched myself interact with my colleagues today, and noted their movements too. A hug here, a touch on the arm there. Ruth’s arm through mine, a rub of a shoulder there by Tracy who was half joking about me wearing my Christmas jumper to the service
Reassuring touches, like Elephants touching trunks when frightened by a herd death
We are all animals really.
Tonight I couldn’t settle, until Mary climbed onto the couch next to me.
Typical of the Welsh , she threw herself backwards into the crook of my arm and there fell asleep with her head up.
I so needed this little hug today
Ok It’s not fingers running through your hair until you fall asleep kinda contact you’ve craved all week
Written in 1983, Yma O Hyd is a song of defiance against loss of Welsh Culture and language.
Written and sung by Daffydd Iwan, it has become a popular song at football and rugby matches but today I heard it for the first time at Ann’s funeral and was greatly moved by it.
Twenty five nursing staff turned up from the hospice, a phenomenal number given our small ward numbers and I wish that we could’ve gone in uniform as we used to do in the 1980s before infection management, audit and risk assessment were the words du jour.
Turning up in uniform with the female nurses stiff in their black capes, was always seen as a sign of deep respect.
Ann’s service spoke of love and affection for a woman who was so very loved and respected and those are the hardest of services to deal with because emotions are so very high.
The crematorium was packed to overflowing which spoke volumes with mourners standing several deep in the vestibule in front of the chapel .
As the words Ry’n ni yma o hyd “ We’re still here” rang out
The congregation were given rose petals to place gently on Ann’s coffin
TVs 911 had a chasted gay moment on screen which was sweet and unexpected last night . Chasted is good
A few years ago I remember nursing an Indian lady who had been admitted . She was in her late 60s and although she had a large number of visitors from her extended family, she had never married or had children of her own.
All of this lady's personal care was carried out by female staff but I do remember one occasion when she required a turn in bed and only one female support worker and I were available to do the deed.
I explained the situation to the patient and assured her that by folding the sheets in a certain way, I would not compromise her modesty, and she agreed I could help with a quiet passivity.
Just before I started to pull back the covers, I remember the lady reached over to her locker to pull out a face flannel which she placed over her own face before the turn, and I remember the support worker ( a delightful Welsh lass called Ann ) putting her hand over her own mouth in a gesture of sympathy.and concern
Even though the lady agreed to me to help, she just could not face to watch
me complete this everyday and usually unthinking procedure.She was just too ashamed
With great presence of mind, the support worker took the flannel away and gestured to the patient that I would close my eyes during the whole turn, and I would do as I was told , which the patient agreed to with a huge sigh. She took charge of the procedure and treated me with an appropriate “ bless him” attitude which suited the moment . I bowed to her gentleness and instinct.
I shut my eyes and the turn was done, without me seeing an inch of uncovered flesh.
I loved Ann for this moment
Eddie’s chaste snog with Tommy may be just the briefest glimpse of Californian innocence.. but it did remind me of one of those red letter moments only good nursing can give someone .....a bit of sweet humanity.
It is Ann’s funeral tomorrow, an unexpected funeral for sure,
I, like everyone at St Davids Hospice shall miss her greatly
In the early 1980s my friendship group dispersed to Universities and hospitals around the country.
We’ve all done ok for ourselves, with the sad exception of Ian Parry who became a renown freelance photographer based in Tooting, but who sadly died in a Russian Cargo plane leaving Bucharest in December 1989 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ian_Parry
Before our natural parting of the ways, and as avid CB enthusiasts, we spent much time at the more liberal houses of the group’s parents, drinking tea by the gallon, and hanging out in untidy lumps as adolescents do. It was the funeral, of one of those parents today. May ( Mother of Janet ( whose CB handle I have forgotten ) and Diane, who was known as Cherry Blossom.
May’s door was always open to teenagers and I was nice to be there today, to acknowledge the fact and to support old friends both of whom , I haven’t seen for 35 years.
I had forgotten that years ago I had given May a small figurine of Lorne Green as she was obsessed with the man after seeing him in Bonanza as a girl. It was with her in the coffin,I was told in a whisper, when I joined the meet and greet line.
I liked the fact that the Bonanza theme tune was played as everyone got up to leave the service hall, even though I had the urge to gallop to the music like Miranda Hart did on her tv programme .
I walked out with Helen a charming, horsey public school girl of my former group who had blossomed into a gentle fifty something Priest who has recently returned to wales.
We smiled together as The Bonanza music filled the hall and the curtains closed silently.
