He looked up saw and two men in ambulance service uniforms; the one who spoke was sporting a large handle bar moustache and appeared to be no nonsense man, a character associated with various military films of years ago.
Claude was soon in a wheel chair then in the transport and it was not long before the rear doors opened. The tall well built ambulance man twisting his moustache and announced.
“My name is Jeff Wood, some call me whiskers.”
He laughed and said, “Here we go straight into the clutches of Miss busy body the Matron.”
They arrived at the front door, it was locked, so Jeff pressed the button, a voice said, “Yes can I help?”
“Ambulance, in a rush with a new patient.”
The door opened and they were inside.
Jeff spoke, “We have Mr Claude Friendly for you Matron.”
Claude looked at her, she was aged in her late forties, early fifties, tall, slim, had long blonde hair which had faded. She was blessed with a long pale plain; face wasn’t ugly or handsome but he thought, was dower and plain. She was sporting a badge inscribed matron and her name Verity Raving. She reminded Claude of a nurse he once had known but had turned her efforts to protesting and once been raving, but that was another story he thought.
She eventually spoke, saying, “It is Friday I was keeping or attempting to keep a low profile doing paper work, in future press the section bell not the main reception.”
Instructions were given to take Claude to the third floor, room 13, “Just right thought Claude spending the rest of my life with matron dower looking, Verity Raving. No doubt he might soon give her grounds to rave.”
What better to continue the Saga, being allocated, room 13, the prophet Jesus he thought was certainly shining down upon him, the 13th was set to be a date of anguish for him for the remainder of his useless life.
As they left Matron Raving called “By the way, driver, we don’t have patients here we have clients and residents.”
Mr Whiskers stopped, smiled and said, “Clients being the fee payers, residents being the rest of us social service folks.”
Her face drew tight as did the man who arrived next to her, a tall fellow wearing thick-rimmed glasses whose top teeth were positioned over the bottom.
“I will be with you in moment dear,” she said to the man who it would transpire to be her long-suffering husband.
She was about to respond to Mr Whiskers unseemly and, offensive comments when he added.
“The ambulance service doesn’t employ drivers, just qualified men and women mostly paramedics.”
She went stiff realising her hopes to complain against him had been dashed by her untimely a disrespectful comment, one she knew the ambulance service would not take kindly to, for they had a face of professionalism to front as did she, an ex nurse, but of low rank.
She turned said nothing more but thought to memorise the incident for a future occasion. Claude, sitting there amidst the battle smiled to himself and thought; here we go again, what is this place, seemingly like the old musical show, the Palace of Variety.
They arrived on floor three, room 13th Claude was assisted from the wheel chair and helped into an easy chair in the corner of the room.
“Someone will be along soon,” Jeff told him. They had to go in case three nines came in.
“Thank you for your help Geoff,” said Claude,
“The best of luck to you,” replied Roberts the other Ambulance man and they left.
As he sat there Claude pondered at his new world, a compact room measuring about ten feet square it contained what at a glance appeared to be a single bed, chest of drawers, a wardrobe and a cupboard. There was a door, which he thought must lead to the bathroom. It sported a large window and so he hoped there would be more to see than the backs of houses or a busy main road.
It was ten minutes before a lady wearing a blue suit arrived and said. “Hello Mr Friendly, I am sorry for the delay we are so busy today, everyone seems to be arriving or leaving at the same time. My name is Miss Eliza Jenkins I am the Administrator, I have come to take all your details and book you in so to speak.”
She looked different than the run of the mill administrators, aged about 40 years old, slim with a friendly smile, and Claude thought the type of lady one might expect to find in a care home. The form she had to complete was fairly lengthy but had been partly completed presumably from information already supplied from Social Services or the hospital or both. It was soon done.
“Matron will see you Monday morning for an official welcome to our small but very happy community here.” She said then stood and was about to leave the room.
“I think I saw her on the way in,” said Claude.
“Oh did you, how come?” She said.
Claude replied, “She answered the door on my arrival.”
“My heavens did she, oh dear?”
She looked at the lady who just arrived next to her, “Sally Johnson a nurse and care assistant, according to her name badge. A tall slim girl,” he thought.
She had a nice smile and auburn hair, aged around late twenties and from a quick look at her hands she was unmarried. He would come to know her very well in the near future. She had just arrived and said, “Its Friday, Matron doesn’t like to be seen on a Friday, comes in to do paper work, keeps a low profile. I will try to keep out of her way today she will be in a foul mood.”
“She didn’t seem too happy,” said Claude “Nor did the man with her in the dark rimmed glasses.”
He received no response to his comment and realised he had once again struck the no, no bell.
The formality over, he was alone in his new world. He opened the door on the far side of the room and discovered it was a bathroom and toilet, nicely done he thought, especially the bath that would be easy to get in and out of. He walked with difficulty on his crutches, over to the large window and was again pleasantly surprised. The view outside had not been what he anticipated but was much to his surprise, green fields with a canal nearby, very nice he thought.
His first impressions were that it was a modern very nice place, Sally had been very helpful, and Eliza had done her job, as she had most of the answers there was little point in her visit but there again he thought she had a job to do and had carried it out in a friendly if a little officious manner. There again he thought she had to conform to the rules and systems of Matron, Verity Raving a miss prim and proper if ever he saw one.
He had only just settled into his armchair and was gazing through the window at the outside world, which at this moment he thought he would never experience again save through this window. It would be his gateway into the world he once knew and was once part of.
He had no further time to ponder for a bell and a voice told him his meal was ready, Sally had arrived and helped him onto his feet, she had with her a walking stick and told him she thought he could manage perfectly without the crutches.
What a helpful caring person she was he thought. He didn’t know but as he could see no visible rings on her fingers he assumed she was single, aged he would later establish to be 30 years old though she looked much younger.
Once a nurse in Copton hospital, not happy with changes in the NHS and the apparent lack of care especially of the elderly she had changed to offering her skills in another direction, proving to be and for the benefit of the residents of The Homestead.
He took the stick and discovered she was correct taking it steady he could at last walk, unaided; the medics had done a good job he thought. She walked behind him but although he was stiff he managed to walk without too much trouble.
He left his room and made his way along the well-illuminated corridor, which was bright and cheerful. He could see the establishment was more or less new and seemed purpose built with every convenience for the elderly. He was however about to come face to face with the real down to earth reality and circumstances or consequences of age and infirmity, that of living the remainder of his days in what was referred
to as `Care`.
As he walked along the corridor he saw the faces of the staff, many were oriental, which caused him to reflect what he had read in the newspapers and on the television over the years. How workers foreign to this country and our way of life and values were arriving and working in such establishments as this for the minimum wage, years ago referred to as cheap labour but such a phrase was these days frowned upon.
Never the less he thought, even in a minority of one, the truth is still the truth. They appeared from what he could hear to have difficulty in speaking the Queens English and he would bet his last pound, if he had one, they were working long hours for a pittance.
“Now come along Claude,” said Sally who at least he thought spoke his native tongue.
His next view was that of what appeared to be a community sitting room, for he could see many of the chairs were occupied almost to a man so to speak but with ladies, it struck him as being common sense for women nearly always lived longer than men, a point he noted with some despair.
How quiet it was in the room as he saw the faces of those seated there, eyes closed, mouths open as they dozed in each of their own never land.
How dreadful, he thought, have things really come to this, am I really going to spend all day every day in slumber among my aged neighbours? He didn’t feel like what he was witnessing but the reality was, he was, in fact one of their peers though nature, God or both had protected certain individuals from realising their own demise of which he may well be one.
He saw several members of staff arrive and begin to rouse the slumbering souls presumably to take part in the forth-coming feast.
Arriving in the dining room his fears were not much allayed, for although it was nicely and properly laid out with cutlery and those already present were seemingly enjoying their food.
He was seated at a corner table, alone and so had a panoramic view of the proceedings, the first of many he thought.
After some 25 minutes the room was full as the participants from the lounge arrived escorted in by their carers who then proceeded to do their duty of feeding them. Claude was impressed at the care given compared with what he had witnessed in the hospital when he first arrived there as a patient.
The scene of elderly ladies and one gentleman being fed like babies depressed him and caused him to reflect that one day his turn would come. Hopefully he thought, at that point his circumstances would be such he wouldn’t notice and therefore it wouldn’t matter, for the moment it was a shock to him.
He was eating his meal, cottage pie and he thought it was very tasty and easy to eat, he saw ice cream and jelly arrive, presumable for the next course, yes he thought not too bad.
At that moment his appetite for anything further was destroyed when two ladies at the table in front of him removed their dentures showed them to each other then dipped them in their glass of water on the table, shook them and replaced them. This he thought is the real world of being old and living in a commune, his thoughts and despair were only more confirmed.
Having eaten nothing further he sat and watched the parade of wheel chairs begin to leave the room and as much as he didn’t wish to think it, the scene had to him all the hallmarks of babies in their prams.
He rose, left the remnants of his meal, noted the ice cream had melted to liquid and he made his way back to his room where he remain in solitude until it was time to visit the land of nod.
He undressed and climbed into bed but knew he was unlikely to sleep much, not that the bed or his surroundings were anything but comfortable but rather the massive changes that had occurred to him, without any preparation or time to adapt.
He lay in bed but was soon so hot he had to remove the bedclothes and lay on the bed uncovered. Unable to drop off by 11pm he decided to rise, he felt he needed to weigh up all the facts and decide how he would conduct his life in the future. He thought what should he do with what seemingly small control he would have over events or his destiny? He felt he could contemplate better sitting up so, with a struggle he managed to get out of bed, then with equal difficulty he dragged his arm chair the two feet or so to the window.
He settled and thought, this was ideal, to sit and just think in the solace of the complete stillness.
He sat and looked through the window down onto the fields and along the canal, which, in the frosty moonlight was showing the reflection of the moon floating silently above so very far away but on the water, looked so near. He felt as he peered into it as it seemed to float on the water, it was at this moment is only company and indeed as his mind wandered into the past.
On retirement after a lifetime of dealing with the public often the worst in society he planned to settle into a life without labour. He would live on his pension and the Capital sum that came with it but at the expense of a reduced pension. Holidays twice each year, he had thought, no one asking anything, no decisions to make, just peace and tranquillity.
He recalled how he had arrived home from duty that final day, now, so very long ago to find a note that his wife had left him. It was a complete shock to him; he had not suspected there was a problem in their relationship. The letter was brief,
“Dear Claude I can’t stand living with you any longer, I have left.”
Since then he had lived alone, a mundane but peaceful life until disaster struck with the fall, and his world had changed forever.
He decided from what he had seen so far his best plan would be to keep himself to himself. He would this time make every effort he thought, to keep his mouth shut, just say please and thank you. Attempt to eat in his room and if that was not possible, make all efforts for a distraction or at least not look up or around him. During the day he would, if possible attempt to stroll in the garden he had seen on his arrival. On occasions as now or when the weather was inclement he would make all efforts to stay in his room away from the depressing sights of old age and decay.
It was soon Monday morning; Sally arrived to escort him for his welcome interview with Matron. Claude smiled didn’t say anything but thought “I wonder if she is any better tempered on a Monday.”
Sally decided he was to go by wheel chair transport for speed to save time as she had a host of jobs to do later. Matron always has a host of jobs requiring immediate action on Mondays. He said nothing just conformed to her suggestion.
They were soon outside Matrons door; he recognised it immediately, just inside the main entrance, marked Matron. He looked around but any hope of finding a friend in Jeff the lippy ambulance driver were soon dashed for he was soon in front of Matron seated at her desk. She was in the midst of a phone call and had raised an arm and hand, which was holding a pen; in a wait a minute please gesture.
Whilst he was waiting he cast his eyes about him, his eyes scanned her desk. At the right hand side of which, all his questions were answered in one glance, a photograph obviously given pride of place. Although old he immediately recognised the nurse in military uniform as Matron Raving. This, he thought said it all, ex military, nurse now a Matron, yippee he thought, what a better end to one’s life living in an orderly military fashion what more could a man ask for. The call ended, she replaced the receiver and looked at him.
“Good morning Mr Friendly, don’t mind if I call you Claude do we?” she said.”
“No of course,” he said.
“I am Matron Raving I prefer to be known as Matron, unfamiliarity encourages good order and a sense of duty and pride in the team. You are a team player I take it Claude?”
“Yes,” he said “I was always part a team when I worked. In fact I have led a team or two myself,” but in those days they called it chain of command.”
“Indeed,” she replied, “One day, if I have time you may tell me of your experiences as a team leader.”
He thought, “Here we are then in a world of team players and team leaders it now just requires the shower of memorandums which will begin with the new modern phrase. I can announce today. It will then be set, game and match.�
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She stood up and began to pace to and fro, “Well now Claude on behalf of the company directors, myself as matron, the team leaders and team players here at The Homestead, welcome.” “We cater here for a variety of residents, some requiring medical health care, others mental health care, some, such as yourself requiring home comforts and the feeling and confidence of being part of a team, you did say you are a team player, I asked you that didn’t I?”
“Yes matron you did,” he said, “I said I was.”
“Indeed, so you did,” she said with military style and firmness.
He realised from the photograph of her on the table and her confrontation the first day not to mention the haste Sally had made to get him here, there were two words more than any others that his new head of team wished, no, demanded to hear, they were.“Yes and Matron.”
She continued her “briefing,” “I will list the basic system we operate,” she continued, “To ensure the smooth running of the establishment.”
Now that was a word he recalled “Establishment” and it appeared to be very apt, though if she had realised it, the speaker would have thrown a fit. Establishment in his book often related to other care homes known as prisons.
She said, “We arise at 8 am, we wash, dress and breakfast, immediately afterwards, we next have recreation in one of the community rooms whilst clients rooms are cleaned and beds are made.”
“We lunch at 12 30 pm there is a choice of meal after which we rest in our rooms or in the lounge or take a walk in our wonderful gardens.”
“We have tea at 6 30 pm again with a choice of meal and we retire at 8 pm prior to lights out at 9pm.”
“We have varied entertainment programmes including televisions in each of the community rooms, each showing a different channel. There are various card games and of course Bingo, we did have darts but this proved a hazard as client’s eyesight is failing, in any event we have few male residents for obvious reasons and darts is not popular amongst women.
Police Memories Page 4
