On the outskirts of our town there's a little cottage hospital, an ugly redbrick Victorian pile, built through public subscription. Inside it's been revamped and renovated. They've kept, I'm glad to say, a large wooden plaque half way up the stairs listing all the original benefactors at the turn of the century, together with the size of their donations down to the penny. Last year when my mother was a frequent inpatient I often used to wonder how those who had (and perhaps could only) donate small amounts felt when the world could see the exact amount of their gift. Maybe that was the idea - the early twentieth century version of media pressure?
Old fashioned though it may look on the outside there's actually quite alot going on. In addition to a couple of wards there's a minor injury unit, physio, X-ray and occupational therapy departments and numerous outpatient clinics. Recently added to the list is our very own chemo outreach clinic and as it's the first in the county the BBC regional news unit descend on us to do a feature.
A friend, who'll be having chemo that day, tells me she's going to be on. 'I'll be wearing my purple wig' she informs me. She has a series of wigs in various outrageous colours which she rotates depending on her mood. What breathtaking confidence! She makes me feel so dull as I scuttle around in my as-near-as-I-can-get-to-my-own-colour wig. I put it down to youth. She's twenty years younger than me.
We watch the programme and I'm thrilled that I know both the women interviewed. They're both very articulate, praising the new service and neither of them appears the least bit nervous. I ring Friend afterwards to congratulate her on her performance. 'I hope you didn't look too closely' she says. 'My blood count was too low for treatment, so the nurse simply pretended to connect me to the drip.' 'Well it fooled me' I tell her. 'I think you and the nurse both deserve Equity cards.'
I'm looking forward to having all my Herceptin drips there. By now of course I know all the oncology nurses and what a wonderful breed they are. The one I've seen most frequently turns out to have been in the same year as my daughter at school. Strange to think I'm entrusting my life to her. For all this responsibility and considerable emotional stress the government sees fit to award them a staged pay award, and a measly one at that. Some years ago when more men started entering the nursing profession (probably thanks largely to Charlie on TV's Casualty!) I had had high hopes that pay scales would improve dramatically. I should have known better. Plus ca change etc...
Hi Jeannie:
Our little hospital does have a chemo room, but I wish they had a radiation department. If they did, it would save folks from having to be away in Victoria for their treatment. I did mention that one time to a gal going for radiation and she said that she was glad to have that time away from home and family and to be with people who understood her situation. I had never thought of it that way.
It is a glorious day here today. One of those days when you could eat lunch outside, but I have a course on "Who Is An Artist?" and today it is on illustrator's of children's books. It starts at 1:00 PM, so it will be a quick bite and then off to 'school'. Wow! That sounds fine to me.
Have a great weekend! A purple wig - brave girl!
Peg
Posted by: Peg | October 12, 2007 at 07:00 PM