Page Title

SAMPLE

INTRODUCTION...THEY'RE DIFFERENT, NOT QUITE THE RUN OF THE MILL! PEOPLE WITH A MENTAL ILLNESS, PARTICULARLY THOSE

SUFFERING FROM A PSYCHOSIS AREN'T QUITE 'THE THING' ARE THEY? YOU MIGHT SMILE AT THEM, OR SOMETIMES BE AFRAID OF THEM, BECAUSE THEY AREN'T THE NORM; NOT GENERALLY THE TYPE OF PEOPLE YOU'D LOOK UPON AS CLOSE FRIENDS.
BEFORE I BECAME A PSYCHIATRIC NURSE I, PROBABLY LIKE MOST PEOPLE IN THE MID SEVENTIES, ONLY KNEW THAT THEY WERE

UNFORTUNATE PEOPLE WHO LIVED IN THE BIG BUILDING JUST OUTSIDE OF TOWN, SURROUNDED BY A HIGH WALL AND METAL

RAILINGS AND THEY WEREN'T REALLY A PART OF OUR SOCIETY...
THE AIM OF MY BOOK IS TO KEEP ALIVE THE ATMOSPHERE OF THE OLD MENTAL HOSPITALS THAT HAVE ALL BUT DISAPPEARED FROM AROUND THE FRINGES OF OUR TOWNS. NOT ONLY THIS THOUGH,BUT TO SHOW THAT THE 'INMATES' WERE REAL PEOPLE WITH REAL

PERSONALITIES, SOMETIMES AMUSING, SOMETIMES TRAGIC, BUT ALWAYS VITAL AND WORTHWHILE TAKING INTO ACCOUNT, THOUGH SOCIETY GENERALLY WOULD HAVE PREFERRED TO FORGET THEM..IN MY YEARS AS A 'MENTAL NURSE' I'VE SHED MANY A TEAR AND SHARED IN MUCH LAUGHTER AND LEARNED TO LOVE THOSE WHO WERE OFTEN OUCASTS AND FORGOTTEN BY SOCIETY. NOW THE OLD HOSPITALS ARE GONE, OR ARE EMPTY, BUT THE MEMORIES LINGER ON AND I REALLY THINK IT WOULD ENRICH YOUR LIVES IF YOU WOULD ALLOW ME TO SHARE THEM WITH YOU

Chapter 11

The next day I arrived at the required time and let myself in, most of the other staff were already there and were having a cup of tea before beginning the daily routine. The charge nurse, Tony was in the office taking the handover and I didn't meet him until later that morning, after the shaving had been done.

I had been standing around observing the patients, when one of them came up to me and asked if I would play table tennis with him. I had never played the game in my life and as it happened neither had the patient, judging by the mess we were making of things.

"Shouldn't you be doing something productive?" a voice called out from the direction of the office.

I stood stock still not knowing who was speaking and who he was speaking to. Turning around after a moment, I discovered that it was Tony and the object of his enquiry was myself. He was a well built athletic man a few years older than me, he looked stern then and even

afterwards, when I got to know him better I thought he looked a bit threatening and always a little serious even when with the staff that he got on well with.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, feeling rather anxious after what I had heard about him.

"The patient wanted to play table tennis."

"Well, if that's the best you can do, you would be better off making some beds, or sorting the linen cupboard out," he said sarcastically.

"Come on then," he continued, having thought for a moment, "let's see if we can do something with you. By the way, what's your name, you're my new student, aren't you?"

I told him that I was and that I didn't know a thing about table tennis, but he wasn't listening, he served a ball in my direction, which of course I missed. Then, he began to show me how to serve.

"The art of table tennis is knowing how to serve well," he explained.

For the next hour instead of making beds, or observing the patients with their cigarettes, I played table tennis. 'What a way to earn a

living,' I said to myself later, on the way home.

Every day that I went into work, after the main tasks of the shift were done, there was Tony waiting to teach me more about the game,

until I became quite good at it. I was careful of course not to win too many of our matches, because I knew which side my bread was buttered!

Some of the other staff became quite annoyed because I wasn't doing the work that I should have been, and they, naturally weren't able to skive off with him as usual; one or two of them being part of his little club. But, there was really very little I could do about it, Tony wanted me to play and how could I say no?

This went on throughout my placement, except for the times when he entertained his young lady in the office, or went off to see one of his friends on another ward. I confess that I was quite put out by these breaks in our relationship, especially as having got to know him so well now, I was able to say things to him that most of the other staff couldn't. I teased him when he dropped a shot and took the mickey out of him occasionally; he seemed to lap it up. At times, I was even invited into his office and sat talking to him for hours at a time, until one day the nursing officer came in unexpectedly and found me in there and Tony was asked to inform me that it wasn't on. Even though the nursing

officer was his friend, protocol had to be abided by, he wouldn't confront me himself, of course, one of the ways that the nursing officers retained their awesome reputation was by getting others to tell the students off, and thereby seem more threatening.

I have to admit that I felt embarrassed by all the attention that I was getting from Tony, and on top of that I wasn't doing my job properly, or learning from my experience on the ward, yet I felt powerless to resist, it was to me a matter of survival. I didn't like the man, but I knew that if I upset him things could become very difficult for me. Nevertheless, he wasn't always on duty and often when he was, he had to

concern himself with other things. These were the times that I worked alongside the others, or sat with the patients and got to know them.

One of the favourites on the ward was Kenny he was a man in his late sixties and was the one who would chase his shoes in the morning if it became necessary to use that method to get him out of bed. If anyone asked him how he was he would reply,

"I'm not so well, I got my hand caught in mothers mangle," and he would show you his left hand, the tips of his fingers being indeed rather flat.

It appears that while he was a lad he took a fancy to putting his hand into the mangle his mother was using to squeeze the water out of some clothing. A mangle by the way, for the uninitiated, was a hand turned pair of rollers that was used by the housewives of Kenny's day to get the excess water out of the washing before hanging it on the line.

Kenny was a very laid back sort of person unless he felt that there was something that merited some exertion, such as chasing shoes. Apart from the thing about the mangle he really had very little to say. I remember only two things. One was if he was out for a walk, and we

occasionally took him out for a breath of air, whatever the weather he would always say,

"Cold, in'it?"

The perspiration might be pouring down his face, but it was always "Cold in'it?"

There was something more delicate and potentially embarrassing Kenny would say and do, if he got the opportunity. The ladies who would visit the ward, mostly at the weekend were the wives, or daughters of the patients and they were only too aware of the type of patient that we had on Salisbury, some of them had been visiting for years, so if Kenny approached them they knew what to expect.

"Let me feel your dugs mrs.," he would say, while reaching out to touch one of their breasts.

"Get away with you Kenny, you dirty old man." Would be a typical response, while the female in question invariably wore an

affectionate smile on her face.

Unfortunately Ron, whose sense of humour was of the less savoury type, took things too far one day. There was an invitation for some of the staff and patients to attend some sort of conference in the hospital. For Ron it was too much of an opportunity to be missed. He asked me to

accompany him, along with Kenny and another quite inoffensive patient.

We arrived before the venue was full and Ron sat Kenny next to a stern, prim and proper looking social worker. The proceedings began

after a few minutes, but as Ron predicted within a short space of time Kenny, being no doubt bored, turned to this lady and said in a rather loud voice,

"Can I feel your dugs, mrs?" he asked, groping for her breasts as he spoke.

The lady let out an almighty scream and jumped from her chair, her face red and flustered and not knowing where to put herself.

Well, I nearly wet my trousers, how I never burst out laughing I don't know, certainly I was shaking and was in an agony in an

attempt to prevent a squeal of hysterics from bursting through my firmly closed lips.

Ron was in deep trouble and even though our nursing officer, when he heard about it thought it was as hilarious as everyone else, he had to go through the motions of giving Ron a good dressing down. I really believe that that particular prank slowed down Ron's promotion to charge nurse by several years; in fact I became a charge nurse myself, long before he ever did...