24th February 2008 - House of the flying tables

When I went in Dad was sleeping at a table. Sitting beside him were Lily and Amy. Lily was in a very chatty mood. Amy was just in a mood. But Amy doesn't stay in one place for more than a minute or two so her venom was only in short bursts.

Lily was wanting someone to change her trousers, but due to staff shortage and it being break time for most of the staff that were there, she was being fobbed off again and again. But she was very aware she was being ignored or at least side lined and her needs were not being prioritised. This feeling seemed to spark a link in her brain, and triggered the outpouring of numerous wee snatches of her life, which she was letting us know about. "I wiz never wanted me. My mither, she doted on ma bruther like, but me, I hid to fend fur maesel. Made me stronger mind. I couldnae dae onything tae please that wummin, and it wisnae fur the want o' trying. All I's wantin' is a pair of troosers. I've got clean pants on, I'm no mingin'" she trailed off. "And ma weans. I've lost count of the number o' times I've bailed them oot of trouble. But wur are they noo? And their pals - never turnt one of them away fae ma door if they'd fallen oot wi' their maw's, their da or their man. And wit dae I git fur it? They didnae look the road I'm oan noo". She looked at me and asked "Dae you and him" nodding to Dad "go up the dancing? It does ma heart glad tae see the pair of your thegither. I could greet with the happiness I could". She thought me and Dad were a couple so I said "This is my Dad, Lily. He lives here. We don't go dancing". She looked at me. "Don't be an erse, nae bugger goes tae the dancin' wi' thur Da - in the name - ye couldnae go wi a lumber if yur Da wiz stood staunin' wtachin' ye".
I couldn't disagree, but it was getting increasingly difficult to continue talking so I just shook my head and said "No" in an aping exaggerated way, and that seemed to be a response she was happy with.

One of the carers came over to talk to me. She told me that Robert was dead. I realised then - as I often do when I'm told of a death - that I hadn't seem him this visit, or last. I really liked Robert, he was a lovely old man. Sally went on to tell me about Gordy who had been very ill. "He's awright noo, but wi nearly lost him there fur a bit." I looked across at Gordy. Gordy who is virtually blind, deaf, only just ablle to walk, can't feed himself or dress himself or commicate at all. "Aye, he's fine noo - lost a bit uv weight like, but he right as rain noo. Honestly, Jeannie, you shood huv seen him last week. Pitiful it wiz". I looked at Gordy again. He had lost weight, a lot of it and I wondered how much more pitiful he could have looked last week. "Oh, no. Wit daft buggers left a table near Cecily!" Sally interrupted my thoughts on Gordy "she's gonna start bucjin' chuckin' 'em again. Francine? FRANCINE? I need help in the dayroom! Cecily's got a table!" she bellowed. And Cecily did, indeed, have hold of a table - the hospital overbed style table that's on wheels and open to one side to allow it to be pushed in over a person in bed or sitting at a chair. They are often used to corral a person into their chair or as improvised zimmers.

"Ahm oan ma break Sal. I've no sat doon for the last 7 hoors, I'm dying on the crapper and if I dinnae have a fag soon I'll be throwin' buckin' table aboot the place" Francine shouted through from the kitchen where she was making a tea and assembling a plate of cakes for her snack. "Can ye no shout oan Karen, she's taken Bertha tae the shithoose, she can let her sit there fur a bit an come through - it's no like oor Bertha's gonnae go onywheres like".

Sally shouted on Karen. Who shouted back that she was helping Bertha and she should get Joan to nelp, she should be back from her break. Just at that point, Cecily hurled the table across the room into the sleeping figure of Mrs Dawson. She awoke with a ear piercing screech "Dr Murray, Dr Murray, the babies deid, the babies deid. Dr Murray, Dr Murray, Dr Murray!" she shouted loudly, over and over again. From the far end of the room, hidden behind on of the arm chairs, appeared Joan, who had been their all along and couldn't have not heard Sally, Francine and Karen shouting to each other. It would have been impossible not to hear, not to know that help was needed, that she was needed. "My break is fineeshed." she said and went to calm Mrs Dawson and reprimand Cecily - who had thrown another and was trying to reach a third. I looked at Sally, who's mouth hung open, gaping to show her impressive collection of silver fillings. "See wit I mean" she stage whispered to me "fuckin' lazy basturds the blacks. She's hird every buckin' wurd and no shifted her black erse."

I was surprised that Joan hadn't moved to help earlier but I was also aware that all Sally had to do was stop talking to me and she could have prevented Mrs Dawson getting rammed with the table. "Is Mrs Dawson ok?" I asked. "That yin? Never up nor doon no matter wit happens. Jist goes oan and oan and oan aboot that buckin' deid bairn. I tells her, I sez 'Yer bairns deid 50 years luv' but she jist bit ma heid aff. Some of them ye like, and somes ye dinnae. I dinnae like hur. She disnae like me neither likes so that's fine. I jist keeps away. It depresses me tae hear hur go oan aboot that deid bairn". Her buzzer buzzed in the folds at her waist. "That's Mags. We've got this system - if she sees the heid bummer coming ma way she buzzes me and I does the same fur her. Got me oot of a lot of scrapes I kin tells ye tha' fur nuthin'. Nice talkin' tae ye Jeannie. Yer Da's doing away, by the way, jist doing away. He's nae bother that yin. We all like gentleman Jim - that's wit I calls him - gentleman Jim - eh Jimmy" she shoogles him awake "eh Jimmy, yer a right gent" and she left us. Me and my gentleman dad, doing away.