Placement Visits

The other month, I was given a few names to visit.  Now the wife of visit number one said that she was having problems getting to see someone who happened to be visit number two, because she was in a hospital that is in the backside of nowhere.  So we agreed that I would give he a lift, and we could go see my visit two and three together.

We arrived at the hospital, and May, my companion for the day, got out of the car, then with scant regard for the visiting hours, or the workmen that were carrying large items of furniture, walked in through a door that was being used as a loading bay.  She then introduced me as the Minister from Lowry (North) and asked where I would find the lady that, for anonymity purposes may as well now be known as June.  I am starting to realise that when former Guide leaders decide they want to go somewhere, they take the direct route, knowing that it's easier to ask forgiveness than permission. And being a minister has the power to open doors. Or loading bays.

So now I am in the hospital, using my newly ordained status to avoid visiting hours, we were lead off to see June.  May and June were in primary school together, and while June isn't in the best of health, her face lit up when May arrived.  We didn't stay long, and hardly said anything, but it was one of those visits that mattered.

Visit 3, April, was just along the corridor.  She had a bad fall a month or so previously, but was getting over it, and was looking forward to getting home.  While she was in hospital, a stair lift had been fitted to her flat, along with a community alarm.  April and May had known each other since they lived in the same small village, and they were both musing that they would never have their own identity.  When girls from that village were described, it was always in relation to the family matriarch - April would be described as Edith Jones' daughter, even long after she was married.  It was the same for all the children of the village, and probably still is.  My enquiry placement was in the same village, and I liked the people there.

So we chatted for ages.  April was bright and alert, and was happy for the company.  I hope I am as sharp as her at 90.   She had a week or so of physio to come, and she found the idea of the Occupational Therapy amusing.  She was expected to demonstrate that she could make a cup of tea in a demonstration kitchen.  The OT expected her to get tea out of the cupboards above the worktop, but April never used these cupboards, being only five foot tall!  Tea is in the caddy  on the counter, not out of reach, surely that should be obvious!

I promised that I would drop in when she got back to her flat. We had a really nice afternoon the three of us, and it was a joy to hear about their lives.


April is dead.


Despite the hope and optimism about her getting home, and the modifications that were made to help her live independently, she had another fall which she didn't survive.  It's been a shock to everyone, and I was surprisingly affected by it.