Bangour Hospital
Ever since I was small, I had
difficulty breathing through my nose and suffered with catarrh. My Mum had
taken me to the Doctor and eventually I was referred to Bangour Hospital (now
closed). Now Bangour Hospital started
off as a lunatic asylum (that is what it was called then) and eventually became
a full hospital separate from the Asylum and where the wards were basically
like long Nissan huts, at least that is how I remember them, with rows of beds.
The hospital in those days was in the middle of nowhere and it required two
buses to get there which probably took about an hour, or so. 10 - 15 minutes now in
the car. In those days cars were much rarer and we didn’t have one. I may have been
8ish but possible younger at the time.
This was the start of 4 operations at the hospital, each required me to
be in the hospital for at least 5 days. My Mum took me with my case, pj’s
toiletries etc. Every new patient had to have a bath, then on with the pj’s,
dressing gown and slippers, all new for my visit. The ward was a mix of adults
and children and on my first night, ever, away from home on my own it was scary. The long ward echoing through the night with
children crying, and I am sure there was snoring too. My first breakfast there remains
clearly in my mind. It was delivered into the ward on a trolley with a
lady pushing it YODELLING to let everybody know she was there. I had never heard yodelling before, and it
certainly woke you up. We got porridge which was nowhere near as good as my Mum’s.
Every night my poor Mum made the journey to visit me leaving my three sisters
with our dad once he got home from work.
She used to bring me in Tarzan books which I loved.
On the day of my operation
the nurse came round and told me I would be going to theatre, and I thought I
was going to a show. The nurse came round a little later to give me a spoonful
of medicine that was supposed to relax me and it was vile. Then shortly before
I was to go for my op, I was given big woollen socks to put on and then I was
bound in a white sheet so that I could not move my arms or my legs. I was
wheeled to Theatre and then gassed which is why I was trapped in the sheet so
that I couldn’t struggle. For years afterwards I couldn’t abide the smell of
ether. As I was being gassed it felt like I was being sucked down a big, black,
negative whirlpool. When I came round, I was back in the ward, no dinner, and I
was sick bringing up black blood. What they did, I found out later, was
cauterize my nose which didn’t help one bit. That is why I ended up going
back for another 3 operations. The second operation was the same format as the
other and I was gassed again. When it came to the third time, I asked my Mum to
ask if I could have an injection rather than gas (someone must have mentioned
this when I was in the ward the previous time). My Mum asked and thankfully no getting
gassed this time, but still no better breathing and the fourth visit yielded
the exact same results, nada! It was years later; I must have been in my late
30’s before it was fixed? My nose had been broken at Karate training three
times, it took me ages to learn not to lead with my nose when I was sparring,
anyway the first time (in my 20’s)was a simple op and no difference, the second
time, years later the young consultant called me in and drew a diagram of the
inside of my nose, he explained that it was the lining of my nose causing the
problem and he was going to trim it whilst fixing the break. After that op I
had a nose spray, but it was like heaven, being able to breathe through my nose
was literally life changing with all that oxygen going to my brain, it was like
being in a beautiful meditation. After the next break and operation, I didn’t
need the spray and it has been great ever since. And I never take how wonderful
breathing properly and deeply is, and what a profound effect it has in relaxing
the mind and brain, instantly.
I had been to the hospital before
but then my twin sister Isabel was with me, she was in the girls ward and I was
in the boys ward and we were getting our tonsils removed, this was standard
procedure in those days, we could only have been 3 or 4, certainly before we
started school.
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