BELVOIR PARK HOSPITAL, BELFAST – WEEK 1 AS AN INPATIENT

 

[ Note: I visited Ruth every day in hospital for at least 8 hours and, when I returned home each night, I used to make some phone calls, before sitting down to write a few notes about the day’s events.  Everything that follows is therefore based on all those notes that I wrote last thing at night and therefore, parts of it read like extracts from a diary.   Although Ruth received many visitors, I unfortunately did not keep a daily record of everyone who came. ]

 

BELVOIR PARK HOSPITAL, BELFAST

 

I remember feeling so relieved and pleased that Ruth was now in Belvoir Park Hospital, because I assumed that this hospital would be on a par with the Royal Marsden Oncology Hospital in London and that therefore, she would be surrounded by cancer specialists, who would not take long to get on top of her pain problems and sort them out.   However when I arrived back at the hospital on Saturday morning 19/04/03, I found a poor wee forlorn looking Ruth, sitting on the edge of her bed and picking through her lunch.   It soon became apparent that she was still in a lot of pain and distress, despite the fact that they had been giving her all sorts of drugs and pills etc, including sevredol for breakthrough pain.

Ruth was very pleased to see me and soon perked up.    Within no time at all, she said she wanted to go for a smoke.   I assumed we would have to go outside, because there seemed to be ‘No Smoking’ signs everywhere, but she told me that she had discovered the existence of a smoking room the previous evening. 

Now,  wherever Ruth and I went in the hospital, we were always hand in hand and so away we went, hand in hand,  up the corridor, round the corner, then through a door which had a sign ‘To the church’ over it and then into this room full of patients and visitors, all puffing away.   The room was so full of smoke that it was like smog, but it was nice in there and I could see why so many people would feel drawn to that room.    It was so different from the cold, clinical, uninviting hospital atmosphere of the rundown 4 bed wards and a lot more like being in a pub.   There was a lovely sense of camaraderie in the air, with everyone laughing, joking and chattering away.   As I looked round, I saw that about half the patients in there had their mobile chemotherapy infusion stands with them.   So while they puffed away, the chemo continued to drip, drip, drip into their arms. 

But another nice, attractive thing about the smoking room was the outlook.   Just outside the room was a beautiful garden, full of plants, bushes, flowers and trees, as well as little nooks and crannies, where you could go and sit on metal benches in peace away from everyone else, if you felt the need.   It was lovely sitting there, looking out at the wind rustling through the leaves on the trees.  There was one tree in particular and no matter when you went near it, there always seemed to be a bird of some sort, high up in the branches, singing merrily away.   Also, just about 20-30 paces away, was the little church which was open all day Monday to Friday.   It was nice and peaceful in there too and I used to go inside from time to time.   There was also a visitors book, which I subsequently signed and in which I wrote “Dear Lord, please help wee Ruth”.   That garden was a most relaxing and calming place.

Later on, when we went outside for a wee while to get away from all the smoke, Ruth suddenly turned to me and told me in a very serious tone of voice, that she was giving me the chance to leave her to face her cancer on her own.   But I immediately told her that I would never leave her and that I would stick with her through thick and thin.

 

Sometimes, when Ruth was asleep, I used to wander all round the Belvoir Park Hospital grounds for a breath of fresh air.   With regard to the hospital buildings, a lot of them were empty and unused and so there was a rather strange, lonely, eerie sort of atmosphere pervading the whole place.   It had obviously once been a very busy hive of activity many years ago, but now it was more like a sort of ghost town.    I remember looking through some windows into one building, where there were piles of old medical records and I felt a great deal of sadness.   Obviously a large number of the poor souls who had come to that place, had died there, especially in the earlier days, when treatment had been a lot more basic and primitive.   I saw an old empty children’s ward and wondered what sort of tragedies had occurred in there.   And then there were the cherry trees, which had obviously been planted as saplings away back in 1904, and the ground around them was covered in pink petals.   When I looked at all those pink petals, they seemed to symbolise the passing of many poor souls in that place over the years.

Then there was the beautiful, peaceful forest down below, where I wandered on my own, amongst all the trees, bushes and plants of all sorts.   It always seemed to be totally deserted, but then one day, I came across the burnt out remains of a car in a clearing one day and it seemed so incongruous to me, that it should be there.

Although Belvoir Park Hospital was obviously run down and in decay, and although all the wards seemed out of date and past it, the grounds themselves were absolutely beautiful.   I thought it was all absolutely lovely and that it was an awful tragedy that they were going to shut it all down in due course.   It struck me that it was in such a superb location, that it would be far better to spend money refurbishing it than moving what was left of the hospital to the City Hospital in the middle of Belfast, in the midst of all the noise and confusion.   

 

But to get back to Ruth’s first week in Belvoir Park Hospital, when I arrived on Sunday 20/04/03, I found Ruth a lot better and more cheerful.   Apparently they had discovered from the results of tests, that she was suffering from an infection, a magnesium deficiency and constipation which was, apparently, the cause of her swollen abdomen (i.e. faecal mass and trapped gases).   She was on 90 mg diamorphine and 30 mg sevredol (as and when required), and magnesium, steroids, diclofenac etc.

 

When I left Ruth on that Sunday evening, it had been my expectation that when I arrived back on Monday morning 21/04/03, I would find her in even better form, with even less pain.   But although she was okay, she was not just as good as I had expected, although obviously a great deal better than the previous Friday.  

 

By Tuesday 22/04/03, poor wee Ruth was in a terrible state again and suffering from an awful lot of pain.   It was almost as if she was having some kind of a major relapse.   She was also extremely restless, agitated and distressed and was convinced that she was going to die very soon.   But then later, she fell asleep and I was amazed to see her wee face covered in lots of lovely happy smiles.   I do not know where she was in her dreams, but it must have been a marvellous, happy, serene place. 

This beautiful, peaceful sleep lasted for quite some time, until people unfortunately came into the room and awoke her.   As soon as she was awake again, it was back to all the pain and restlessness.   Then something strange happened.   She suddenly asked me to get Billy and Ethel and, when they came into the room, she took Billy by the hand and thanked him for everything he had ever done and told him that he had always been like a second father to her.   She then turned to Ethel and told her that she loved her more than words could ever say.   She then suddenly declared at some length and most articulately, that she was giving her life to the Lord.   Despite the fact that she remained in terrible physical distress, a certain kind of peace seemed to descend upon her. 

Eventually they gave her two injections, which settled her down considerably.   I remember wishing that they could get on top of all this pain.

 

On Wednesday 23/04/03, I was extremely glad that all the consultants and specialists were back from their Easter break, because I was sure there would at last be people around, who would be able to focus on Ruth and resolve her pain problems and, fair enough, she was visited by various people I had not seen before.   With regard to her mental state, she seemed a lot better, although she still suffered from bouts of excruciating pain.   Furthermore, her head seemed to be dropping away forward and her neck appeared to be getting really stiff.   Although she did make an effort to straighten her neck upwards and lift her head, this only caused her more pain.   So she agreed with a nurse’s advice not to fight it and, as a result, it did not cause her as much pain, although it did look terrible. 

 

Early on Thursday morning 24/04/03, Ruth was told she was going for an MRI scan, which they hoped would reveal exactly what was causing her pain problems and therefore help the doctors decide upon the best form of relief for her.   Sadly I had not arrived in yet and because she felt so frightened and lonely, the poor wee soul burst into tears because of her claustrophobia.   However, a very kind nurse called Liz went with her to hold her hand and keep her company. 

             I remember being worried that the scan results would show a further spread of the cancer into her neck and back, but prayed that I was wrong.   I was also extremely concerned that Ruth seemed to be losing power in her right arm and hand and that there were signs that this was spreading to her left arm and hand as well.   At one point she asked me if the atmosphere round her bed had turned grey, but I assumed that this was an effect of the diamorphine. 

With regard to her mental state, she was in relatively good spirits, but still suffered from bouts of extreme pain.   I had this horrible fear that Ruth was very near to death.   She was just like a stooped 90 year old woman shuffling about and I could not ever see her coming back from that state.  I hoped I was wrong!

 

To read about Ruth’s second week as an inpatient in Ward 8B, Belvoir Park Hospital, click on WEEK 2 AS AN INPATIENT

 

To return to the start of this section, click on WEEK 1 AS AN INPATIENT

 

To return to the very start, click on RUTH ELLIS