“What a blow!” July 15th 2018

Wrexham Maelor Residency Notes

15/7/2018

Erddig Ward

“What a blow!”

Erddig today, and my goodness it was quiet. Weekends on the ward are quiet but today there was a nice sort of peacefulness about on the ward. Our old favourite Mrs C was still here, and a sister said that both she and the lady in the next bedside would benefit from some company- particularly Mrs J because she was feeling especially low.

I introduced myself to Mrs J and explained who I was and asked if she would be interested in seeing some of my typewriter work, deciding to go slow and not overwhelm her because she looked exhausted. She smiled warmly at me and her eyes reassured me that I was no intrusion, so I showed her some of my typewriter images and this made her smile a lot, and I explained how I use text and language in my work- as an opener to allow me to introduce some kind of a text-based activity.

I decided to use the fridge poetry again because I have really enjoyed how it has worked in the hospital environment; it doesn’t take up much space- it isn’t messy, and in terms of creativity- it is very versatile. With it having a limited vocabulary, in many instances you have to settle for another word, but this in itself can take a poem off in a far more verbally adventurous direction. (I say “poem” in the broadest most abstract sense, because every person reacts differently creatively to the words on show).

Mrs J looked impressed at the variety, but nothing seemed to jump out, so I asked if she had a particular theme or anything she loves; she said “The sea”. So, we were off! It did take time because her mobility was very hindered by her fatigue, but she remained engaged and involved and helped me to pick out and assemble the words.

This is what we came up with:

Water licks feet beside golden glory

Summer twinkle, jewel sky

Glitters beneath a silver breeze

In a gold dream boat

I carry along and float

To glance above

Beautiful memories shine

After completion she kept saying, “Lovely; it’s just lovely. Absolutely lovely.”

She closed her eyes gently with a smile on her face, and gently fell asleep for a happy doze.

It was almost as though she could hear the water lapping to-and-fro with the glittering water twinkling before her.

She slept the rest of the time I was there.

Turning and greeting Mrs C I was most pleased because she remembered me- except she thought she knew me from “down by the river.” In conversation that follow she happened upon explaining that she used to work in a factory at one time, “a big building with hills behind, it was down by the river.”  I realised that she must have been confusing me with someone from her youth. I wondered if she liked that person- because she was very warm with me. I sort of felt like I was given an unfair advantage in a way- piggybacking on someone else’s reputation! Memories are funny things.

Mrs C was very settled today. Other times she has suddenly become alarmed and announced that she must go and find her family- because they “won’t know where I am”.  Today though she happily sat and completed a crossword- asking about the weather and being very contented. I wonder if she becomes more distressed later in the day, as her rational thoughts begin to anticipate visiting times, and her irrational thoughts counter this with frequent distress that people won’t know how to find her. Maybe even 3pm, at the end of the school day?

She asked how I had got on with Mrs J, saying that she has not been too good recently and has been very sad. So many times on this residency I am struck by the devastating loneliness and sadness endured by these people lying in these beds. I wished I hadn’t exhausted Mrs J to the point of needing a rest but had to remind myself that she had looked very happy, albeit happily asleep. Part of me wished I could have engaged with her further. It doesn’t feel like enough sometimes. If you have dementia, and happen to feel perpetual sadness- then would a pleasant experience remain with you? Or upon waking would you be once more thrust into a state of confused sadness, with little idea why? In that case, is anything lasting?

Mrs C, cheerfully completing her crossword asked what I had done together with Mrs J, so I showed her the magnetic poem and she was very impressed. I asked if she would like to have a go and she insisted that crosswords are my thing so instead I switched to a little technique I like to use, whereby I ask the patient if they could help me a little; I asked her if she could give me a theme, or something about herself, so that we might collaboratively put together some words. It worked. She said “Ok, how about, A farmer’s life.”  Combining conversation, memories and a little artistic license on my part, we made a couple of verses about a familiar anecdote of hers- that of being sent by her father to milk the cows. The aforementioned cow kicked her while she milked her, resulting in her being thrown across the barn and drenched in milk.

She has told me this story before. She really enjoys it- her eyes dance with happiness and she does this sweet little chuckle at the thought of her drenched in milk. On the morning of her communion- of all days!

“A Farmer’s life”

Sun above

Vale beneath

Out of bed

Walk those feet

What a blow

I fall

A milky flood

And a white soak

She seemed quite impressed with what we came up with together, and kept asking “Do you do this every day?”

I think she was seeing it on a parallel activity with completing a crossword. Perhaps it should be.

We were then interrupted; she had a visitor. I discreetly gave them space and packed my bags away. She was to go on a walk with someone from the hospital, down to chapel! She was most pleased. I thanked her for her time then as I left she called out to me: “I will be back here in a few hours- if you come here and I’m not here, I won’t be long!”  She had already forgotten what I said. I said not to worry and to enjoy herself, then made my way to the exit. I turned one last time to wave goodbye and she was still smiling at me with the beautiful happy eyes of a lady in her 80s. I don’t know why, maybe it was the way she was looking at me like she knew me, but I kissed my hand and outstretched my arm to her- which she immediately reciprocated, and we both parted ways with broad emotional smiles on our faces.