AN INVITATION

Story contd.


Back on the surgical ward, I was thankful to be on a ward where the patients, mostly, were admitted, had their op and went home after a few days, fit and well. The majority were T’s and A’s (tonsils and adenoids). Before WW2 it was the norm to remove them at the first sign of trouble. I had mine out aged three. During the war the hospitals were more stretched, the lists got longer and longer and it was realised that in most cases, by the age of eight, the problem had disappeared

The one thing we dreaded were ‘bleeders’: patients who bled unremittingly after their op. A close watch was kept on their pulse rate to monitor this, but our hearts would sink if there was a redhead or a certain wishy- washy, mousy hair colour coupled with a pasty skin. I don’t know if there is a scientific explanation for why these patients were more likely to bleed, but as student nurses we believed they did.

We also treated mastoids and we had a staff nurse who was brilliant at dressing the most delicate wounds with such skill that the patients kept calm. I really enjoyed this type of nursing and took pride in following her example. Going to theatre with a patient could be nerve wracking when you didn’t know what to expect. The theatre staff were super efficient, had low fuses and Heaven help you if you had forgotten theatre socks or any of the things you were meant to remember. One of the anaesthetists had a whacking great diamond on her finger and I stared, fascinated as she spilt ether on it, as well as on the mask she placed over the child’s face. It was so mesmerising I used to wonder if I was soaking up the ether myself.

The consultants were treated like gods; a hot water bottle for this one – special soap for that one. In my ignorance I thought they were great fuss- pots but of course the soap was for an allergy and the hot water bottle to warm the consultant’s hands before he examined a child. Nevertheless when the ENT specialist entered the ward in white theatre gum boots and a lamp on her head, there were a few sniggers when a child called out:

‘Coo look! A miner!’

I went out a couple of times with the chap I met at the Christmas dance and then it fizzled out. One of our set – Ginny - was on the ward with me and we discovered that she lived just north of our valley and would travel on the same bus. Most of the girls came from round Manchester and there was a subtle difference. The staff in Kendal Milne’s Store used to blench when it was our Wakes Week, and they were over-run with these strange folk from the valley. Ginny and I spoke the same language and became close friends.

Just before my eighteenth birthday I got a lovely surprise: an invitation from MTL to go as his partner to a Commemoration Ball. I told Maddie when I phoned her and she said it would be a wonderful experience. I couldn’t wait to tell Mum and Dad on my day off.