Three Holy Days at Stoke Mandeville

October, 2007

Contents List:

Preamble
Gratitude

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Preamble

I write these reflections on my first ever experience of being a patient in a hospital. My experience began on the afternoon on Sunday 23 September, 2007, when a lovely man from the ambulance service came to my door; it ended during the afternoon of the following Tuesday when I was discharged to the care of my son, Ian. I spent one night in Ward 10 and the second in Ward 20. I was examined in the Radiography and Endoscopy Departments. My reflections are confined to my personal interactions with the reception, medical, and nursing staff of the hospital and my observations of their work — including that of the voluntary hospital visitor service.

My remarks specifically exclude any reference to the National Health Service within which the hospital is operated, and should on no account be used for any form of political propaganda.

Gratitude

Having drawn these boundaries, I struggle to find words which can adequately express how impressed I was with the quality of the service I received, which far exceeded mere professional competence. The sheer relentless, sometimes heavy, work involved in nursing was a revelation to me. So also was the deft skill involved in washing, shaving, and performing the most intimate personal hygiene services in cramped conditions for patients, many of whom were, like myself, tethered to "poles" by life-sustaining plastic "hoses". And so, too, was the inconspicuous vigilance of the ward supervisors during the relatively "silent" hours of the night.

All these activities were performed with a tender, loving, humorous care which encouraged anxious patients in unfamiliar circumstances, soothed those in pain, comforted the uncomfortable, and quietened the irascible. Interpersonal skills like these cannot be taught in a school; they require special qualities found only in beautiful, selfless people.

These beautiful people comprised individuals of several races, many nationalities — and, presumably, many varieties of faiths or beliefs. Some were very far from home. Yet this hospital (or at least that part of it to which I refer) is not at all typical of a "multicultural" society. It is a united human community dedicated to healing the sick. Cultural and racial differences are of no consequence.

In the wards, although there must have been a hierarchy of skills and responsibilities and the "uniforms" must have meant something, I saw no evidence of strict adherence to a "pecking order". These were teams of people on first-name terms, selflessly getting on with the one task on which all their attention was focussed. This is their common religion in the true and original meaning of the word. This is what binds people together in holy love and respect for all humanity.

So, for me, this was not only a healing experience in a physical sense; it was an intensely spiritual and consciousness-expanding revelation in what I think of as a truly religious community. I am in all respects much the better for it.

Duncan Macdonald

26 September, 2007