Monday the 10th of January was my first visit to the hospital in 2022. I'd taken a lateral flow test that morning and was thankful the result was negative. Because of Covid, I’d heard that my usual ward was closed, and I was to go the floor below which was partially open for volunteers to visit. I was pleased to see security men at the entrance doors, supervising who can and cannot enter. As usual I was joined by Lucy, a co-volunteer. But looking up to see the name of our first patient, I saw what I thought were the words “Merry Christmas” only to re-read it as Mary Christine. But our stay with Mary lasted only a few minutes. She said her mother’s favourite song was “When Irish Eyes are Smiling” but as I began to sing it in jovial mood, she stopped me saying “it will make me cry”. At that point two doctors came to interview her and asked her routine questions to check for dementia.
However, in the adjacent bed was Kim, probably in her seventies. She was a chirpy cockney sparrow of a woman, wiry and thin with a good old London Town accent. I could picture her in a novel by Charles Dickens. She was full of chat and was hoping to go home that same day. She couldn’t wait to get back home and look after her mother. I joked whether her mother had the same lively chat as she did. “No, no, I’m the one who does the talking” and then “I’d even talk to Jack the Ripper!” And she cackled with laughter!
We moved along the corridor, from one bay to another. Some patients are asleep, open mouthed; some just resting in bed or in a bedside armchair. I was drawn to a lady in the corner lying down in bed. She wore large black rimmed glasses and she reminded me of the agony aunt and journalist, Marjorie Proops. Her name was Marie telling me she recognised me from two years ago when she had previously been in hospital and had challenged me to find the Beethoven tune Fur Elise. “And did I?” I asked. “Oh yes” she smiled. She jokingly asked that I guess her age. “Do you think I’m 21?” I had an idea she was in her 80’s, so I said 68. “I’m 101” she said proudly. She requested that I played Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. She told me that she played this tune as a girl and whilst at school as a teenager played the piano in assembly as the girls walked in. One day there was a male guest present and he spoke to her telling her she was really very good, and she ought to apply to go to the Royal College of Music and that she may have a chance of being accepted. Well, she was indeed accepted! I played the Moonlight Sonata on the Bluetooth speaker, as she closed her eyes and probably travelled back in time. I asked her if she’d like me to play anything else and she said she liked Nat King Cole. (A favourite of mine in the hospital.) I usually play the up-tempo number “Let There Be Love” but I chose instead “Smile” written by Charlie Chaplin. I didn’t tell her what I had chosen but as soon as the stringed intro had finished so the unmistakeable Nat King Cole voice began “S M I L E … though your heart is aching.” I swear time stood still, and her face lit up with a broad smile. Better than that, she began quietly singing all the words. I know Lucy had tears in her eyes watching what was happening. Wow, 101 years old. Lucy and I were with her for over half-an-hour.
Until then we were on the 10th floor. It was getting near one o’clock and we could have decided to leave but we agreed to go to the 7th floor and give it another 20 minutes.
One lady patient, sitting at the side of her bed, had a problem hearing us. She had lost a hearing aid battery. As luck would have it, I keep a few spares in my back pocket. Luckily too, it was the normal size battery. I offered to put the battery in place for her and she put the hearing aid in her ear and ABRACADABRA she could hear again. She, Sylvia, was so pleased, she even offered me money holding out a £5 note. “No, no” I said, “It’s my pleasure”. She was especially pleased and told me she had made a new year’s resolution to be more positive, and the fact that I had suddenly turned up out of the blue was a reward for her positive resolve.
Finally, among all the other patients we saw, we came across a dark-skinned woman sitting on her bed in a colourful dress and wearing what looked like a wide black top hat. I thought she might be Peruvian, and she said a lot of people think that. She told us that she collected hats and all sorts of clothing and said in her hometown of Mitcham that people stop her in the street to hand her things they think she would like. She pointed to a red coat on her bed with crimson lapels and asked that I guess how much it had cost. Well in truth I thought it might have been £9.99 as it was pretty worn but she proudly declared it had cost her £1. Her name was Iyabode. Her father was Nigerian and her mother half Liberian and half Scottish! She had a deep voice and was very well spoken. I asked her where she got her accent from and she said that when she was a girl, she was cared for by nuns and they had told her, because you have a deep voice, you should have elocution lessons. And that is what happened. But even more wonderful was the story of her great grandfather who negotiated with the slave traders that anyone bearing his surname would not be a slave. This request was met. He then married 42 women to save them from slavery. Well, that’s what Iyabode said! Can you even imagine that - a different wife each night for all of 6 weeks?
Oh, I forgot, I asked Marie if she knew who wrote the song “Smile”. She shook her head and so I did a Charlie Chaplin impression at the side of her bed, putting two fingers under my nose to represent a moustache and shuffling along like a penguin. At 101, she guessed straightaway. It had been a fun morning!
Sorry on a bit of a downer
sometimes you've got to laugh, or at least force a smile until your cheeks hurt...
Echocardiogram conclusions
Blood pressure drops by afternoon, fatigue .
Busy Morning 
