Читать книгу Chambers's Journal of Popular Literature, Science, and Art, No. 692 - Various - Страница 2

'If you will meet me at – Hospital at half-past ten on Monday morning, I shall be happy to shew you anything in my power.' So ran a note I received some little time since from a privileged visitor at one of the largest London hospitals. An hour's ride brought me to the gates of the institution, which is in the very heart of busy London, and yet, as far as noise goes, might be miles away from all its life and bustle. A little world by itself it stands, having its own laws and customs, its chiefs and subordinates, and certainly its own joys and sorrows. Crossing a stone yard and up a flight of steps, the first obstacle presented itself in the shape of an ever-watchful porter; but the name of my correspondent had a magical effect in quieting his fears. Friends of the patients are allowed to visit them on three days in the week at stated hours; but beyond this, without private interest, it is by no means easy to obtain admission to any hospital.

Passing through the porter's gate, I found myself in a stone hall, where my friend joined me; and opening a door at one end, she led me into the accident ward. Down each side of the long room were arranged beds at short intervals, each with its coverlet of blue check and curtains to match. Yet there was little monotony in the appearance of the whole, each bed taking different shapes according to the nature of its inmate's accident. Skilled hands know how to place sufferers in the position that causes least pain; and light frames are fixed over injured limbs to prevent contact with the bed-clothes. Each bed too has a chain suspended from the top, with a handle attached; by which simple contrivance patients are enabled to raise and in some measure help themselves much sooner than would otherwise be possible. Some of the worst 'cases' are too ill to notice us as we go round; but from the greater number we get something of a smile.

Our next step was to mount the stairs on the other side of the hall. We now came to a large male surgical ward, holding about fifty beds arranged as before described. Here the dressers or house-surgeons were beginning their duties. The first bed at which we paused was tenanted by a boy of twelve or fourteen years old, with a bright and not unhealthy looking face; but a terrible abscess had formed on the calf of the leg, so affecting the bone that a serious operation was necessary to prevent amputation. This had been performed a few days before our visit; but useful as chloroform is at the time of an operation, it by no means saves all the pain. The first dressing is much dreaded, and even in the case of which I write the poor boy's sufferings were very great; but he was a true Briton as to endurance. I did not know which to admire most, his bravery or the steady hand and eye of the surgeon, who did not shrink from inflicting necessary pain, whilst with bright words of encouragement he helped his poor patient to 'be a man.' The air of cheerfulness about the ward was surprising; round the fireplaces were groups of patients, just well enough to be up. Gaunt and ill they looked, but as ready as possible for a bit of fun. The Sister of the ward comes out of her cheery little room just as we turn to go away, so we stop for a few minutes' chat with her. She tells us that in addition to the services of Chaplain and Scripture-readers, each ward is visited once a week by ladies, who talk to the patients one by one, reading to them, and trying to shew sisterly sympathy with their sorrows. Sister says that the patients look forward to the visiting afternoon with great pleasure, and my friend remarks: 'No wonder; poor things! They must find it very dull lying here day after day and week after week.'

Sister breaks into a merry laugh, and utterly scouts the notion that her ward could be anything but bright and pleasant. 'You see,' she said, 'mine are surgical cases. It may be dull perhaps on the medical side; but here the patients are well as a rule, except in one particular thing.'

To our inexperienced minds 'one particular thing' seemed quite enough. Asking the same Sister whether she found it difficult to obtain permission from one of the authorities to do something she wished, she answered with an amused smile: 'I never have any difficulty in getting anything for anybody.' It certainly would be difficult to refuse anything to such a bonnie face and pleasant manner. One could not but be thankful that she and others like her shed their sunshine where there must of necessity be so much shadow.

In the next ward (female) we had a few words with a motherly night-nurse. She goes to bed after dinner (about 1 P.M.), and comes on duty again at nine in the evening; but turning night into day seems to agree capitally with her. Seeing several cots with tiny inmates, we ask her whether they give her much trouble: her prompt answer is: 'Not a bit; not half so much as some of the grown-ups.'

'And the medicine; have you difficulty with that?'

'Never; however nasty it is, they drink it up without a word.'

One case of a poor woman is both medical and surgical – a terrible string of maladies; but another nurse, in answer to the question, 'Can she recover?' answers heartily and with real interest: 'Indeed, we hope she will.' She certainly would not without great care and the best of nursing. Near her is a cot, and my friend asks the four-year-old inmate what is the matter. A tiny voice pipes out in the very highest of high trebles: 'I'se here tawse I tarn't walt.' A dislocated thigh will prevent the poor baby from walking for several weeks. In the next cot is a girl of five, injured in the same way. 'Run over,' nurse tells us; and adds: 'Half of them are.'

A few more visits on the surgical side, and we come down-stairs again, and go through a door at the opposite end of the hall from the porter's lodge. The medical cases are in a block of buildings quite distinct from the surgical. The first ward we entered was chiefly occupied by consumptive patients. On opening the door, a most pitiful wail greeted us. Going up to the cot from whence it proceeded, we found a tiny child lying with its eyes fixed on the ceiling and giving utterance to the most heart-rending cries. The Sister, nurses, and patients were alike almost in despair about her. One nurse told us that little Jessie was eighteen months old, though not so big as some children of as many days. She had been brought to the hospital a week before, starved. Her limbs were so rigid that they could scarcely bend them. A patient told us that she nearly bit through the spoon when first fed. The doctor considered her much better; but she cried or rather wailed the whole night and all day, unless nursed or fed. Nurse had taken her into her own bed for three nights with little avail; and all the inmates of the ward were feeling worn out with worry and want of sleep. At a subsequent visit I found her still wailing, and tried the experiment of nursing her for some hours. She was perfectly good in my lap, and went to sleep. Flattering myself that I had done a good work in securing a quiet morning for the other patients, I put my lady down in her cot. She lay for just one minute, and then opened her eyes with a shriek that made me glad to bundle her up and quiet her at any cost. At my last visit I found that Sister had been obliged to send her away, after trying what having the mother in at night would do, and finding it of no use. One poor woman, very ill in the next bed, said to me: 'I do love little children, and I have a baby of my own, so I don't mind some crying; but it was dreadful to hear that child cry day and night, and no sleep for any of us.'

There seems to be no special ward set apart for children; but cots are sprinkled about in the female wards for those under the age of seven. As a rule, the patients like this, and the little ones get a good deal of notice and petting; but I am afraid no one regretted poor Jessie excepting a deaf and dumb boy in a cot near, who could not hear her cries, and delighted in clapping his hands at her. He was a handsome child of five, with a wonderfully bright smile, and very quick at catching the meaning of the slightest sign. At this first visit, his only amusement was to fold up the bed-clothes and throw them on the rod over his crib. His little tray had no toys on it; and notwithstanding his sunny face, one could not but fancy the days must have been very long and uninteresting. The last time I saw him he was rejoicing over some bright pictures, pointing out their beauties to his kind nurse, and making all sorts of inarticulate sounds of joy. One nurse had a rather quaint idea of the use of pictures. In answer to my question, 'Would No. 7 understand these?' she said: 'O yes; he'd know how to tear them up!'

After speaking to several of the patients, our attention was drawn to a woman, who looked so much a picture of health, that it needed quite an effort of faith to believe her when she said that, two or three weeks before, she had been so dangerously ill that she scarcely expected to leave the hospital alive; but under treatment she had improved so rapidly that she was hoping to go to a Convalescent Home in a few days. Several of the patients were well enough to be about. Whenever this is the case, they take what share they can in waiting on those too ill to help themselves. One or two are so ill that they cannot put a foot to the ground, need to be lifted in and out of bed and waited on like children. The Sister of this ward is most admirably suited to her post. She has the gift of governing, and nurses, as well as patients, are completely under her control. One of her duties is to go round the ward administering medicine to each patient (the medicine is kept on a shelf over the bed); and certainly the way they took it bore out the statement of the nurse spoken of at the first: however disagreeable, it was swallowed at once without the shadow of a grimace. Sister too presides over the distribution of the smaller articles of food, kept in little movable cupboards, of which there is one to each bed. The bread is baked in small tempting loaves, and brought into the ward in what looks likes a clothes-basket. Two patients carry this up the middle, whilst Sister asks each in turn how much they feel equal to. The amount they then receive lasts them till the following morning. A stated allowance of butter is given in the same way. A bill of fare hangs over each bed; eggs and all other extras being only given under the doctor's orders. In addition to this diet-card, a form is suspended from the bed's head, filled in with the name, age, address, and disease of the patient, together with the names of his or her doctor and house-surgeon, also the date of admission.

Going up another flight of stairs, we entered a ward for what a nurse called 'difficult cases;' by which she meant diseases that require special attention, and that do not shew themselves so decidedly as to leave no doubt of their nature. The ward is large, holding about fifty beds; but evidently it was not built originally for an hospital. Several rooms seem to have been thrown into one by removing the doors; but the projections of the division walls remain and serve to break the monotony of appearance. Of the same size and build was the next we entered, which was privileged in possessing the society of two cats as pets. Here we found another baby of the same age as Jessie, and like her, starved; but here the likeness ended. This little creature seemed the darling of the ward; nurses and patients vied with each other as to who should nurse her, and all declared 'she never cries, and gets so