A TRIP TO THE THEATRE

It was a long slow journey, but I was determined to revisit the place of horror. The place that was locked away in my memory, all through my childhood, my teenage years and beyond.  

It was meant to be a place of healing and nurture but, although there were staff who were clearly “cut out” to be in the medical field, there was something sinister within those walls. A frightened child of six far from home with separation anxiety could feel it, even though it is the adult now who speaks of it. The place had not changed, but I had. The tears were running down my cheeks meeting at my chin, and because Bill was standing beside me and trying to comfort me, his coat was stained with makeup and tears.  It did not matter to Bill, he knew the story and had insisted on the visit.  My mind went back to that day in the mid-sixties…

 All I knew was that I was going to the hospital for an operation. Believing it to be at the hospital I could see from our kitchen window, I was resigned to my fate but not excited even though I would see my old pal, Dr Mack.  Instead, it was the convalescent place I was going to associated with the hospital I was familiar with, and where I usually saw Dr Mack.

Why were we going on the bus? Why was Mrs Baker and Jean coming with us? I knew Mrs Baker had been a nurse before she was married, but why all the fuss…?

Jean my best friend, skipped and hopped and told me she would write every day. After all three weeks would pass quickly. Three weeks? I wanted to be sick but Mummy had told me that I needed to be a big girl and Jesus would be with me. Sorry Lord, but I have a feeling You might have been queasy too, even though You were with me.

We arrived at our destination; it took two buses to get there.

This building was a hospital?  I was cold and it was the beginning of summer. The place needed heating, after all, it was Scotland, not Australia, which, I later discovered had hot summers.

“Oh hello Molly, I see you have brought Mummy with you… and dolly.” said the admissions nurse.

“Christine,” I mumbled defiantly.

The nurse smiled and said to Mum “She will be in Ward Six.”

That pervading hospital smell: of ammonia combined with sweat, urine, boiled cabbage and other delights. The starched white aprons and hats, the blue or pink striped dresses, the vile black lisle stockings and the no-nonsense black lace-up shoes. The expressions on the nurses’ faces were also regimented.  What a uniform! Oh, how I hated it and still do to this day. The corridor was long and my toes ached but not as much as my heart. I knew he was still at work but I wanted Daddy. Daddy always made it better. Besides which, Mummy couldn’t cuddle me very well,  she was expecting a baby. She was so fat!

 I read Number 1, painted on the wall: when we walked a little closer we saw it was Ward 1. I glanced through the glass, but Mummy hurried me along. Two, then Ward 2 the same dormitory-style beds, sick sleepy children polished floors, cranky looking nurses. Torture all the way to Ward 6.

Sister Shaw met us. She smiled and said that my pretty dress would have to come off and Nurse Brown had a bath running.  Mummy was not allowed to touch me. I cried buckets.

Why do you have to wash me down there?  I want Mummy!” Nurse Brown was deaf to my plea.  Although Mummy had made me new pyjamas, I was not allowed to wear them, because they might get lost. Mummy pleaded with them to let me have Christine, with that look only the Scots can perfect when they disapprove. I was not allowed to keep the sweets that my Aunty had sent, to myself, because it was not fair on the other children. I only got one of them the rest were passed around. Aunty Joan sent a message back via Mummy to say.

“Never you mind Molly.  Your old Aunty will get mair sweets hen, and they will be yours and yours alone.”

I cried that night: so much, in fact, I earned Nurse Brown’s disapproval. She threatened to push my bed into the TV room so I would not disturb the children. That stopped the tears momentarily.

Sister Shaw entered the ward speaking very quietly to Nurse Brown. She was not pleased with her and came to my bed fussing over me, telling me I was going to the theatre in the morning. I settled down after that. What six- year old would see that as a statement of warning? I was imagining Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, falling asleep with a smile on my face.

Next morning another nurse came towards me. She gave me a glass of milk and a slice of bread with butter. I could see that the other children were having cereal and toast. I was not allowed to have that, because I was going to the theatre. I took it willingly enough: I thought if there was ice cream later, I would need to leave space. Such innocence. Such disappointment.

There was no ice cream. Instead, there was an injection. It hurt I screamed and Sister Shaw said she had a surprise for me handing me an envelope with Daddy’s writing on it.

He had written me a letter telling me what had happened at work and that Mr Fred, his boss was asking for me. I did not know Mr Fred but he seemed nice. Daddy called me 'Princess' and that he loved me and would see me soon.

I was feeling very sleepy as I went down the long corridor to the theatre. I was still imagining Snow White and popcorn. Sister Shaw behind me and a grumpy looking orderly in front of me. The room was so bright. Everything was clean and everyone was in a white uniform even Dr Mack. That feeling of panic again That smell, not the normal smell it was an unidentifiable smell. I felt trapped.

“Hello, Molly. Are you alright?” asked a smiling Dr Mack.

I nodded. He smiled again patted me and said  ”That’s the ticket”

He got a nod from someone near him, then said.

“A wee jag Molly” more of an announcement than a suggestion.

“As long as it does not hurt,” I said.

“It won’t” he replied, but, he lied.

When I awoke I was back in the ward.  Mummy was there I had a big plaster on my leg I was uncomfortable. I was also needing the toilet. Oh my. It was my first experience of the indignity of bedpans.   Mummy did not stay long as I was tired.  So was she as she waddled out the ward.

Next morning, I spoke to Shona on my right side. She was in a great deal of pain. Jill on the other side, had been there a long time This was a second home to her.  She was mischievous and determined. At lunchtime, she did not want her mince and tatties that traditional Scottish dish that everyone loved: that is until you had it every day for a midday meal for months on end except Fridays. Jill wanted something different and it was not Friday when she could have fish. There was a pervading toilet smell around the ward, so Jill got her towel emptied her mince on it and threw it under my bed.  I was too scared but to agree when she said:

“Don’t tell anybody.”

Later a redhead boy walked up to me, as he had heard me crying.

“What’s your name? he asked, “I’m Mike.”

“I’m Molly,” I said.

“You miss your Mum, don’t you? asked Mike

I nodded again.

“You’ll soon get used to it Molly.” he said “you’re lucky you at least see your Mum every day. We get to see our parents at the weekend only. Is your Mum having a baby?” he asked.

Another nod.

“I thought so.”

Just then Nurse Brown appeared.

“Get back to bed Mike” she roared ”don’t disturb Molly or Shona.”

Jill looked at her as though to say “What?” Shona was asleep and clearly not disturbed by that.

“Molly’s crying Nurse” he dared to reply.

“She’s always crying,” said Nurse Brown crossly.

“That’s not fair Nurse,” said Mike “Molly’s only been here three days I have been here, three months.”  He moved away, stopped, retraced his steps and said.

“It’s just as well yer no a teacher at my Dad’s school He’s the Headmaster. He’d have you fired for your behaviour.” he walked to his bed, got in and sulked.

I was so engrossed I did not notice my Mummy approach.  She had heard it all. So had Sister Shaw.

She smiled saying something like “He’s a cheeky wee monkey. He’ll have to be God love him.”

Mum knew; she had seen that pale wan look before.  This was long before the days where heart surgery was a miracle it did not exist. Mike would die young, but he did not know.

Mummy was not impressed by the towel and queried why it was there.

“Was that you.?” she asked me with a warning look.

“No Mummy,” I answered truthfully but horrified that she would ask.

She could see the fear in my face and called Sister Shaw over.

“I did not do it, Sister,” I said, my eyes as big as saucers. She smiled.

 Going to the other side of the bed she picked up the towel recognising immediately that it was not what  Mummy had thought.

“Jill,” she said,” was that you?”

Jill weakened nodded and started to cry. The bravado went the fear encompassing her.

“Just leave it on the plate if you don’t want your dinner Jill” Sister Shaw advised, patting her shoulder.

I was talking, again to Mummy as there was still plenty of time. I saw Dr Mack’s cohort walking around in a temper. Suddenly Sister Shaw appeared asking that Mummy leave. Apparently, Dr Hart was very cross because rules were rules, and there were to be no visitors during the week. It was understood that Mummy was only allowed to visit for an hour, and every day because when the clock was about to strike at 4.00pm I cried. Today it was 3.20 when the tears started and did not stop.

Mum had travelled on two buses for a fifteen-minute visit. She kept her temper, kissed me and said she would be back with Daddy tomorrow, after all, it was Saturday.

Dr Hart was never going to forget the day he caused me to cry. Blissfully unaware of what was coming he sat in his office. Sister Shaw saw the signs and immediately prepared herself.

“Sister I wish to see that Doctor now.”

She took Mum to the office without a word.

“Mrs Martin wants a word Doctor.”

“Mrs Martin what can I do for you?” he smiled benignly

“You can comfort my wee lassie”

“You know the rules, Mrs Martin. I…”

“Have you got a disabled child, son? of your own I mean.” Mummy rarely got angry “ Do you know how it feels to have surgery at 6 years old and not have your own jammies not to mention the nurse, ... Brown, I believe from Hell, that teased Molly about having her doll? This place is like a jail. Were it not for the courage of wee Mike, my Molly would be more upset.” 

“You just appear every day without permission.”

“I beg your pardon I did get permission.”

“From whom?”

“Doctor Mack. Jings I’m so glad he’s Molly’s doctor and no’ you, you wee… upstart.”

“Do not stress yourself, Mrs Martin; in your condition…I…”

Neither was aware of Dr Mack’s presence.

“Mrs Martin had my permission to visit Molly every day but only for an hour.” Dr Mack was angry too ”furthermore, I sent you a message conveying such.”

He was short of stature but clearly the boss “If I thought for one moment Mrs Martin could not cope under her present… condition, I would not have given permission.  Please do not upset my patient or my patient’s parents further.” He turned to Mum, so she said later.

“Mrs Martin I am so sorry for this upset. Can I get you home?”

“Thank you, Dr Mack but no thank you. You are a busy man, the bus will be here soon.”

“I will make sure Molly gets some sweeties tonight” he replied glaring at Dr Hart.

“Aye” though Mum “I bet they won’t be what Joan supplied.”

The next day was Saturday.  About two o’clock the doors opened and a crowd of parents entered the ward. The noise was deafening. Mummy and Daddy quietly sat beside me, Mummy taking a back seat as it were, so Daddy could ask questions, and hold my hand. Shona was quiet; answering her parents’ questions  She looked so pale, Daddy was concerned and asked me what the wee lass’s name was.

Then the burning question came out

“Daddy am I going to be like Shona?”

His eyes widened He took my hand and said

“No love when the plaster is off Dr Mack and his friends will teach you how to walk again without the limp. You’ll see.”

“Aunty Joan sent a present for you,” Mummy said

She was watching other parents bring chocolate bars to their children. Sharing? Yet those other children were much sicker than I was, as Daddy later reasoned.

I opened the parcel. It was a doll with two faces. One was a happy face the other was supposed to be a sad face, but it scared me.  I did not know why I was frightened but looking back it was sinister, Now, I realise with a touch of irony that the doll represented two personalities. Some folk are genuinely beautiful others are wolves dressed in sheep’s clothing.

Aunty Joan was told we had left the doll behind at the hospital in error. Mummy had taken it home and threw it in the coal fire. There would be enough memories of a clinical life.

On Sunday Jill was taken away from the ward followed by Mike and a couple of other children. I asked if I were allowed to go. The nurse said she would check. She came back about an hour later I asked if she had checked.

“Yes,” she said, “they went to Mass.”

Seeing the blank look on my face she said.

“Molly you are not Catholic”

So, it was only Catholics that got to church in this hospital, it seemed. Daddy let it pass when I told him later.

Never mind love” he said soothingly “you don’t need to go to Mass to learn about Jesus, you will be back at church soon. Mummy teaches you hymns at home, and we say our prayers.  Jesus always looks after you.”

I hated it. I hated mince and tatties, I hated warm milk, I hated bedpans and though I wanted to be a nurse before going into hospital: I was not ever going to do that.  I missed Grandpa and Nanna, I missed Aunty Joan and what if Mummy had her baby and I was stuck in hospital? Again the tears threatened, then I saw Nurse Brown.

Three days later, a week after the operation Sister Shaw came bustling up to see me.

“Molly, I have some news. you’re going home.”

“What tomorrow?” I said eagerly, smiling for the first time during my stay.

She looked over at Shona and sighed.

“No dear today.   Mummy is on her way.”

I just about jumped out of my skin I was so excited

Mike said “I heard the news. Be seeing yer.” He shook my hand solemnly and walked away sadly.

Jill was happy for me “I’m going home Saturday “she said. “I can’t wait.”

Shona was already home, safe in Jesus' arms. I was never to know why the three-week stint as planned was only eight days. I suspect my crying buckets helped the decision.”

Perhaps this visit would erase the horror in time.

I took a deep breath and looked towards my darling husband.

“Seen enough?” asked Bill. I nodded

“Let’s go to the pictures then,” he said

I laughed “To the real theatre? Where is the popcorn?”