Unmerited kindness

It goes without saying that those caring for you as you lie pretty much helpless in a hospital bed do a good job. The cleaners are just so helpful, tidying up, rearranging the cards and not complaining when the presence of so many makes wiping a window sill more of a trial than it needs to be but they are glad when you take away all but a few.

The ladies who come around with their pads asking you for your menu choices who then see "Sips" beside your name and roll their eyes in sympathy and who, after a fortnight, offer whatever you want as soon as you're allowed something more and are true to their word. Alas, all I could manage was not much but endless ice cream could have been mine!

But the nurses, the nursing care was amazing. Thoughtful, understanding, everything you have no right to expect it to be it is all that and more.

It is the more that makes such a difference. Early in the morning of my first Sunday in E1 I woke and felt conscious. It was refreshing in its way, more clearly aware of your circumstances and environment than hitherto. It provided time for reflection because it was so quiet. By Saturday evening I was one of two on the ward, one had been allowed home to see if he could manage his condition but he was due back on Sunday, opposite me a gentleman was waiting to go home first thing on Sunday if his medication allowed for it. Late on Saturday an elderly gent was placed in E2 but I wasn't really with it. After a good night's sleep, a rare pleasure in hospital, I felt pretty good for an immobile inert lump.

The 0800 changeover came but was far more relaxed than the usual rush. The nurse for the day was Humphrey. A delightful man. My wife later endeared herself to him by finding out that he was once #7 in The World at Chess and that in Kenya he was a national legend and all because he explained how 'checkmate' was a very unpleasant word in his vocabulary. Our first conversation was brief but of huge significance.

He asked if there was anything he could do for me, this as he was emptying bags along my left hand side. I asked if he could pull the curtains back so I could see the window. You like to look out of the window, he asked? We'll go over there if you like, he said. I can't  walk, I said. No, I'll wheel your bed there he said.

So I was moved to the vacant E3 berth. It was not until much later that another nurse explained that the process of moving 30 feet involved much paperwork, computer record amending and numerous other duties, which was why it wasn't done, she said.

All I can say is that the fact of lying next to a window made a huge difference to my reawakening consciousness as well as making it far more comfortable for visitors and quieter at night. It really made a tremendous difference. Gratitude was abundant, although I think it passed largely unnoticed so busy are all the staff all the time.

Humphrey did not have to move me. I had done nothing to deserve it, it was an act of unmerited kindness, the first of many.  On the Tuesday morning I was taken off antibiotics. About four I had an attack of the shakes the same as afflicted me immediately prior to the op. Andy, who was opposite me pressed the alarm and Humphrey arrived thinking l was fitting he called the duty doctor. I explained that it wasn't a fit but at home with a wooden bed it wasn't terribly dramatic here in a steel bed the racket was something else. The doctor sent to the path lab to find out the results from the stent now removed and put me on IV paracetamol.

Jen, the other nurse started piling on the blankets. Eventually, calm was restored and Jen stood by removing blankets as my temperature fell. By the time a semblance of normality was restored I noted the time and wondered why she was still here. It was after her shift change, not much but enough. I'd not even noticed the changeover. She shouldn't have been there but she was. I'm glad of that, too but almost an hour and a quarter after the shift change Humphrey returned.

He apologised for having neglected (his words, not mine) to show me how to use a medication for my severely unpleasant mouth and tongue which the doctor had decided showed signs of fungal infection. He'd put the bottle on my table earlier but I'd been in no state to know about it. He'd left and come back.

I thanked him profusely but all he said was that I'd be here tomorrow but he was off to play in a chess tournament some hundred miles away and he needed a clear head to win! Which he decisively did.

After a week or more I was put on the feed bags which were changed at 7:00pm. Toby, a nurse with a penchant for decent motorbikes, was charged with  changing the bag. Knowing that I was pretty desperate for a shower, which after a fortnight was long overdue, happened to disconnect my drip, then the feed bag and said, "ooops, I haven't taken the new one out of the fridge" and with a smile produced a fresh towel and told me that it would take him almost exactly the time it would take me to have a shower.

He even brought a bare trolley pole thing which normally holds drips and pumps for me to steady my feeble self. Once clean and spangly l was once again piped up but feeling oh, so much better especially as the bedding had been changed as well. He didn't have to, but he did.

The next day the dietician lady with the flag of St.Piran informed me that I was going onto 18hr bags so I could exercise a bit. Great. This meant that I would be free from 1300-1900 so my chaperone and I could wander a bit. Sadly, for various reasons that evening the bag didn't go on till after 10 which trolopsed our plans. Next day, Amanda, nurse of exceedingly great talent offered to speak to the nutrition people and get the bags back on track.

It actually took a couple of days to restore the afternoon wandering schedule but she did it. It's a shame I couldn't wander much but I tried.

Even on my last full day when we were a bit concerned how we'd get me to the entrance a very experienced, perceptive and wise nurse called Nikki took my wife, showed her a lift we didn't know about, a back entrance, a car park and a place to park for a short time that made our exit easy and allayed our fears with one thoughtful wander around a relatively unknown part of this massive place.

I could go on but I hope you get the gist. The effect of these unmerited kindnesses was very great but probably umeasurable empirically.

There were so many others, Andy, who called for aid when I couldn't acquired sachets of pineapple juice once he knew it was my favourite and placed them in plain sight ready for the day. I'm glad to say that his day came before mine. It was a privilege to be there when after nearly 130 days he went home, albeit due to return in June or July for a final op.

Perhaps my sister provided the most amusing scenario. On one of her earliest visits she brought this small jar. I could barely raise myself up above the regulation 30degrees but I opened it and had a sniff. Freshly ground coffee. A snort was a more accurate description but I could wake up and smell the coffee, she said. I have to say that I did henceforth as did numerous staff and fellow patients. It provided amusement for many.

However, nothing can match a visit from your grandson and nothing did. He'll never remember it but I'll never forget it.

So many did so much but none had to and I had in no way earned their kindness but I will always be grateful for having received such an over abundance of it.