Last Monday, the 17th of January was a mixed bag, with Lucy and me meeting an assortment of patients, but not quite the fizz of previous weeks. I will mention half a dozen or so patients. (We normally see about 20).
One guy I was drawn to was Terrence. He was sat up in bed, intently staring at his tablet and it occurred to me he might be tuned into a TV Horseracing channel. Wow - I WAS right, but what made me think that? Well he looked like a shady accountant, or how I think an accountant should look - schoolmasterly and peering at the screen through half-moon glasses, with pencil in hand, as if he were examining a series of numbers! He was checking three race meetings scheduled for that day, all on Sky TV, from Chepstow, Fakenham and Wolverhampton. I asked him if he had any tips but he hadn’t yet assessed the form. I suggested he pick a horse drawn in stall 15 for that was his bed number. I didn't want to intrude on his concentration so we moved on.
Nearby was Alan, a scholarly looking and distinguished man in his seventies, Originally from Aberdeen, he was a retired scientist working at the Francis Crick Institute (opp. St Pancras Station) but still attending there regularly as a volunteer. He gave us a lecture in his life's work studying and researching the flu virus and DNA and sharing information and discoveries with organisations across the world.
Sometimes we do little things to help people. An Indian lady patient was struggling to eat a small pot of yoghurt. She had only partially opened the peel-off lid. She was actually trying to push her spoon through the lid to reach the yoghurt but with no success. My colleague Lucy pulled off the lid to enable her to eat.
We then met a Polish lady who said she liked the music group called King Crimson. I looked the name up on my Spotify account and came to see the song "I talk to the wind". I didnt mention the song title to her but instead asked her cheekily if she talked to the wind. She looked a little bemused and said “My English is not very good”. I did play the tune to her on my Bluetooth speaker but it was the most forlorn and miserable song I have ever heard. Nonetheless, the lady said, "My husband likes it". 😂
A little later we took the lift up 5 floors to an Oncology ward and first met Louisa, a young middle-aged lady from Columbia. She had moved to Tenerife and had started a nail painting business but in recent years had transferred to London. She had affixed dozens of family photos to the wall beneath where her window was. Photos from Columbia and Tenerife. Marriage photos and children’s photos. And that very morning, for no real reason, I nearly packed a small powerful torch into my bag. How I wish I had as I could have aimed a beam at each photo, for the pictures were in shade. I’ll certainly pack a torch for next week.
Another bright faced lady was Joanna with the words PARTY ANIMAL in glitter letters across her T shirt. She was Irish from Tramore, Waterford . She was just a joy to speak with. She mentioned her roots and where she came from, talked of the local pub called the Squealing Pig where dancing would take place, with men and women skipping across a broom placed on the floor. Apparently a local tradition. She also spoke of hotels and pubs in Killarney, South West Ireland. I played her the song "How Can You Buy Killarney " and we both joined in with the singing .
Finally we spoke to Linda who recently had chemotherapy. Linda was wearing a pale orange bandana around her head and was sat up in bed with a dove blue blanket wrapped around her. She was a lovely lady, full of grace, a pale translucent skin and a wide smile. Her face and colouring reminded me of a girl in one of Vermeer’s paintings, perhaps “The Lacemaker." When we got round to talking about music she said he liked the 60's and mentioned the Eagles and a group called Ace. There was a kind of different atmosphere on this Oncology ward. More peaceful.
The last person we met was Maria, an 96 year old Italian woman. She had a handsome face, a Roman nose and a shock of white hair combed backwards. I asked her if she bad had black hair or had been blonde. She answered proudly, “chestnut”. She told us she wasn't able to eat or drink as she had a tumour in her windpipe. She smiled and told us that every morning she wakes up to visualise a large glass of water in front of her. She repeated, “Mezzo litro, mezzo litro”. But her face became sad when she thought about the days and weeks ahead. She spoke to me “I’ve had a good life, I like people and people like me, I don’t want to go”. I could see a tear in her eye. I placed my hand on hers and gave a few strokes. I Just spent a few minutes with her in silence. When we said goodbye, she called out “Arrivederci” and waved. Such a brave lady. I do hope to see her this week coming.
