INSIDE OUT

Thursday came and the sun was shining, thank goodness. I’d been looking forward to our walk with Monty in the hospital carpark and the little grassy area alongside. 

It seemed a good idea to ring the hospital when I was about to leave the house so they could have Leaf ready for when I arrived, so I did. I got through to Françoise, the head nurse. She told me they’d decided I couldn’t take him outside the unit. I was stunned, lost for words. ‘But you can walk him round in our little garden’. It was all I could do to control my disappointment. ‘I’ll be there at three,’ I said and hung up.

Lannemezan is about 30km from home, around half an hour’s drive. Luckily I enjoy driving, I find it calming – I doubt I would in the UK where the roads are very busy, here they aren’t.  Even the main roads are pretty clear by comparison. Anyway, by the time I reached the hospital I’d defused – I’d taken a Zen plant extract calmer before leaving and that had helped.

The so-called garden at the unit is surrounded on three sides by patients’ rooms and the dining area, the fourth is a grilled fence. There is no way out except through the dining room. There are a few tables under cover and a small path leading to a round table with benches, also sheltered. There is some grass. The space is about 40 x 20 metres. We were overseeable from inside and not alone outside; an old chap with a wonderful white beard was touring the space with his zimmer on wheels. 

When Leaf came out, he didn’t recognise me at first, so I took off the wretched mask which I’d been obliged to wear when coming through the building. A big smile lit up his face. ‘It’s me!’ I said. ‘Yes, I can see that.’ I took his arm and off we went, round and round the little garden while I brought him up to date on the news. Lots of sighs and moans at that but he was happy to hear about the good stuff to come. I told him how much I admire his courage and fortitude and I most certainly do. We talked a little about his condition and what I hoped could eventually be done and asked him how he felt in spirit. ‘Fine,’ he told me. Well, I knew that, he’s a fine man of high vibrational awareness, even with AD tangling the works. The untouched side of him comes to the fore every now and then and is such a huge blessing. 

I suggested we have a coffee and biscuits and he agreed to stop the tour, then back we went to walking the perimeter of the garden until suddenly, he stopped, put his arm round me and kissed my cheek. It was amazing and brings tears to my eyes to think of it. His spontaneous gesture of affection was extraordinarily welcome since physicality has been forbidden. Luckily no-one shot out of the unit to put the dampers on that precious moment.

We had about three quarters of a hour together before the nurse arrived to take Leaf back into the unit. I followed. It was the first time I’d been inside the ward area for months. There were about six old chaps in chairs and three or four ladies shuffling around. They came over to me. One touched my arm as though curious to know what I felt like. I put my hand on her shoulder and remarked on her pretty hair, tied back neatly in a chignon. She was thrilled and gave me a big, gappy smile. The other ladies joined in. It was very moving and reminded me of something I’d thought about months previously.

Leaf had disappeared, back to his promenading. Outside the ward I had a chance to talk to Françoise. She told me Leaf had become less stroppy about being washed and changed and that he actually enjoyed being left to shower himself down, which is good – no soaking the bathroom!

However, to that something I’d been reminded of. I think it was around about November, during the first period of hospital lockdown, that I thought about offering myself as a volunteer in the unit when some semblance of normality returned. I mentioned this to Françoise and she said they had volunteers, so it could, one day, be possible. We shall see. Apart from being nearer to Leaf, I could give the others (those that would like it, of course) some affection.

Enforced physical distancing and isolation have deprived us of physical contact which has gone a long way towards lowering our immunity and therefore making us far more vulnerable than we would normally be. We’re social animals, for the most part, and going into each other’s personal space is a great way of exchanging ‘bugs’ and thereby building up immunity. Seems the powers-that-be don’t know that, or do they??