Tag: nhs

Happy Days

Watching Wimbledon this week and anticipating the Olympics, I was struck by what a lucky little so-and-so I have been. I was trying to imagine what my “bucket” list might have looked like in my late teens/ early twenties and I reckon it would have looked a bit like this

  • A trip to Disney World
  • Watch tennis at Wimbledon
  • Meet my soul mate
  • See the Northern Lights
  • Dance at the Tower Ballroom
  • Have a successful career
  • Go to the Olympics
  • See New England in the fall

I don’t think, at that age, the one thing left on my bucket list – travel throughout Ireland (particularly Galway, Cavan and Tipperary) would have made the list; I probably didn’t understand my cultural and ancestral ties at that age.

Fair to say I have smashed the rest of it, the Northern Lights were dropped in my lap, a gift from nature that wasn’t lost on me. I have travelled North America extensively and enjoyed every second, Yosemite (three times), Disney World and Orlando (seven times) and the Canadian rockies (twice); would be my favourites, but I also loved Zion, New York, Boston, Washington DC, San Francisco, Washington, Vancouver and Shenandoah. I wish I had been brave enough to explore South America and the Indian Continent – I feel the colour and vibrancy of those places would have awakened my senses and lust for adventure in ways that could have changed my life; but my desire for comfort and safety has always been too strong. Reading has been my travel placebo. I’ve been to many a cup final at Wembley, have spectated at Wimbledon several times, was one of the many who experienced Super Saturday first hand, I danced at the Tower Ballroom with my soul mate and I think my career was reasonable.

I have had an incredible life, probably not by anyone else’s standards but, in my eyes, I have achieved so much. My life has been full of love – given and received. I know that I have saved lives through my compassion and understanding – what a gift that is. And I have influenced other lives of course, mostly positively, and certainly my intent has always been one of kindness. I have worked hard and had much enjoyment. There have been challenges, grief – as it is for most people my age – has been my companion many times in the last twenty years. My health has been, for the most part, excellent and I am full of admiration for my body’s ability to do all it does. My most recent challenge came on the 4th March this year when I heard, for the second time, those fateful words “sorry, it’s cancer”. I was alone, I was shocked, I was afraid. My overwhelming thought was I am not ready to die. The system kicked into action quickly and efficiently – staging CT, bloods, scans, further histology and I was to come back on 21st March for a fuller diagnosis and to agree a plan.

On that day I wrote in my journal “scared, hopeful, numb”. That about covers it!

The results were as good as they could be in the circumstances, and a plan was put in place for surgery the following Wednesday, yet again the system ramped up and I was pre-op’d and ready. On the Saturday before my operation, I decided to do the 100 Happy Days challenge. I am so glad I did. Firstly, to notice just how quickly 100 days passes; and perhaps more importantly to gain some evidence about what exactly makes me happy. The first thing I need to point out is that there are more happy things than there are days – because it wasn’t `the happiest thing’ but all that had made me happy that day. When I looked back this week to analyse the results, I was pleased to see that most of the things that make me happy represent the cornerstones of good mental health.

Thirty-eight times in the 100 days I noted some aspect of “noticing nature”, from the Northern Lights to a pretty flower, and there is such resonance here with my day to day. I am surprised it wasn’t 900/100 as that’s what my life feels like.

My beautiful pup Zahra, with all her challenges, was the next highest scoring; followed closely by friends and family. Love, as I have already said, and I am lucky to have the best people (and pup) in my corner. I appreciate every one of my relationships.

Next came food and more specifically cake, and anyone who knows me knows this to be true! I could do with cutting down a bit, but it’s never lost on me that nourishing myself is a great privilege. Enjoying tastes and textures; and using food to express my love for others is, and always will be, a huge and healthy part of my life.

The next highest scoring happy factor was family history. I have been researching my family history for more than three decades and I love so much about this. I love the actual research, playing detective, analysing facts, seeing patterns – holding everything loosely, and then homing in and proving a piece of evidence. It has taught me so much about life and how to analyse information, also about being non-judgmental and keeping my heart and mind open. Then there are the stories, often not my own blood line but some delightful rabbit holes that I have tumbled down along the way – like the story of Catherine Ratcliffe-Duncan, a pit brow lass from Billinge; and Mary Ellen Foster, who left rural Rainford to enhance her nurse training and ended up being one of the first registered physiotherapists. But it’s the people I have met along the way who are the greatest treasure, not just the many cousins I have connected with but the genealogists who are so kind and generous with their time and expertise.

The next part of my analysis shows several things with equal weighting: art, reading, naps, self-care and self-improvement. Wonderful! House work and home improvements snuck onto the list – I don’t think we should live for “things” or keeping those things clean and tidy; but nor do I need to justify myself, I am working on being happy with “being” and I don’t see these features as a failure – just clarity that I have work to do and in the meantime I appreciate my surroundings and beautiful things as a form of art.

Finally celebrating the milestones of my cancer treatment was a small feature, ringing that `end of treatment’ bell is quite something. Who knows what the future holds; but I know that I will face it with the right attitude, excellent support and the experience of a life well lived.

If you want to read more about Zahra, Catherine or Mary Ellen see my previous blog posts on this site.   

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Miss Foster went to Gloucester

Mary Ellen Foster was born on 24 July 1893 to Joseph, a coal miner and his wife Margaret. They lived  in Rainford – a small village in the North West of England; and Mary Ellen was the sixth born of fourteen children. On the 1911 census we find 17 year old Mary Ellen in service at a farm. Five years later she enters nurse training at the Prescot Union Infirmary, the hospital associated with Prescot workhouse and the forerunner of Whiston Hospital. I imagine she had seen an advert something like the one below.

In 1920 she moved to Gloucester to commence midwifery training and later moved to London. We have the privilege of seeing her nursing register entries, reporting Mary Ellen as a hard-working nurse, popular with staff and patients. My favourite entry though is from September 1922 that reports her as “lacking in courtesy towards the honorary secretary and committee”. I am going to assume that this identifies her as being brave enough to question her superiors; a bold move for a woman from such humble beginnings.

At the end of 1924 Mary Ellen leaves nursing to enter a course of massage training. This indicates her move to the Chartered Society of Massage and Medical Gymnastics, the organisation that twenty years later will become the Chartered Society of Physiotherapy.

On 3rd May 1930 Mary Ellen, 36, married John Henry Philo, her occupation detailed as Masseuse at the Orthopaedic Hospital. They marry in Stanmore so I assume the Orthopaedic Hospital is the Royal National Orthopaedic Hospital.

Over the next six years Mary Ellen and John David have three children together, all boys, David John, Harold Joseph and Paul. Sadly, in what must have been particularly difficult for Mary Ellen to bear with all her training, Harold dies at just five years of age having contracted septicaemia from a bone infection.

On 19th July 1949 John Henry died from a cerebral haemorrhage.  

As far as I can tell Mary Ellen continued to work until at least 1937, maintaining her registrations for nursing and the Chartered Society of Massage and Medical Gymnastics. She died in 1988, aged 95 from a stroke.