In the Midst of Life

times I had seen him observing the nurses as they went about their work, and wondered if he fancied one of them.
    One day, he said abruptly: ‘I have been watching you and your nurses.’
    ‘Yes, I know, and I have wondered why.’
    ‘You don’t miss much.’
    ‘Nor do you, it seems. But why?’
    ‘Because I can’t understand how you, any of you, can do it.’
    ‘Becausewe are trained to.’
    ‘But why start the training in the first place? From what I can see, nursing is such a filthy, disgusting job. Why should anyone want to do it, especially a pretty young girl – and some of your nurses are very young and very pretty.’
    Such a statement gave me a bit of a jolt. I had never thought of nursing the sick as filthy or disgusting.
    ‘I can’t agree with you. Admittedly we deal with the clinical indignities and intimacies that sickness entails but—’
    ‘That’s what I mean. Some of these old men …’ he glanced around him fastidiously ‘… are in such a revolting state that I wonder how anyone can go near them, let alone do the work that you girls have to do.’
    I tried to explain that each man was a person with a life, loves, dreams, hopes and beliefs, and that the illness imposed on them did not alter that in any way; in fact, illness intensified it.
    ‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ he said thoughtfully.
    ‘No. Few people even think of what illness can lead to.’
    As soon as I had said the words, I wished I had not done so. I did not want him to identify himself with the ‘revolting state’, as he had put it, of some of the men around him. People never see themselves reaching the terminal stage of illness.
    ‘I’m damned sure I couldn’t do it,’ Mr Anderson said emphatically.
    An incident occurred in the hospital, and, for a while, everyone in our small, enclosed world was talking about it. Matron was a sweet, trusting soul who saw no harm in anyone. When a gentleman called at the hospital and announced that he was a representative of the British Patients’ Benevolent Fund and that the society wanted to offer the Marie Curie Hospital a television for the benefit of the patients, she fell for it. A charming conversation over coffee and biscuits followed and the gentleman was shown around the hospital, which he assured her was a most heart-warming experience. A suitable location for the television was selected, and the gentleman said that the cost of installation would be tenpounds – a very large sum of money in those days, far more than an average week’s pay.
    Matron wrote out a cheque to the Patients’ Benevolent Fund, but the gentleman requested cash, because he said he would have to pay the electricians in cash. She swallowed that one also, and went to her petty cash box and handed over ten pound notes. They parted with great goodwill on both sides, and the television and electricians were promised to arrive that same afternoon. One need say no more. Matron had many fine qualities, but spotting a con man at three paces was not one of them.
    The patients had all been told of the kind offer and those that were well enough were very excited. Televisions were expensive items in the 1960s, and few of our patients had even seen one. The afternoon wore on. Several patients and nurses eagerly looked out of the front windows, and Matron was a-twitter with expectation. But the minutes ticked by, then the hours, and no electricians or television set arrived. Five o’clock came, then five thirty, and still nothing.
    ‘Perhaps they will come tomorrow,’ said a hopeful voice.
    ‘Not a chance. He’s got his ten pounds. We won’t be seeing him again,’ said a realist.
    ‘It is disgusting,’ said Mr Anderson, ‘I despise such a man. Tell Matron that I will buy a television for the hospital, and pay for the aerial to be installed. I can enjoy it for a while, and when I am gone it will remain for the enjoyment of others.’
    This was a very unexpected and generous offer, but I wondered about his use of the words ‘when I am gone’. It sounded as though he knew he was going to die.
    Cancer can overwhelm the body with frightening speed. Although the radium treatment was probably reducing the growth in the abdomen, we could not tell to what extent without performing another laparotomy exploration. Mr Anderson was losing weight rapidly. He was a spare man, with strong musculature, but within a few weeks he became pathetically thin. He found swallowing more difficult, and waves