W is for Ward

Devon 1983

There are ten blocks in this hospital. Ten blocks, sixty wards and 1200 beds, not including the staff beds. Including the staff beds there are 2000 beds. Out of all the 2000 beds across the staff houses, sixty wards and ten blocks, Maxine couldn’t find the single bed she was looking for. 

It wasn’t a mammoth task, she could’ve found a needle in a haystack with her 20/20 vision; finding bed 33A was too tall a task. It was in one of the new wards, probably in Trafalgar block. The issue was, outside of the specific wards she had worked in, she had no idea where anything was. Maxine smoothed her hair behind her ear, the stress had made a single clump plop out of her bun.  The bun was part of her unofficial uniform,  she wore a blue pinafore that was several shades darker than her crystalline eyes,  her middle part was in line with the trail of neat white buttons down her front. Her work shoes were black leather, and had not yet shaped to her feet, which rubbed against the side of her toes with every step.  Even when she worked as a nurse, she wore the same unofficial uniform, hair slick down, white buttons done all the way up. The only difference now was that the midwifery pinafore was darker to hide the bloodstains and the nursing one was green.

The hospital didn't have any signs. There were many things about Stonehouse that made it peculiar. First of all, Most hospitals didn't have as much security. But Stonehouse was both a naval hospital, and a psychiatric hospital. With both of these factors considered, additional security was an inevitability. Also, the lack of signage was to prevent runaway patients. Because it was a naval hospital, the staff were on rotation a lot. soon Maxine hadn't ended up making many friends. She was convinced she was the longest working member of staff because every time she tried to get close to a colleague, they would be moved to another post. This made the hospital pretty lonely, the walls had ears and mouths but no arms to reach out and hug her.

Other than the security measures, it was a regular Hospital. There were shrubs that wrapped around the outside of the building pretending that it was a welcoming place. In the main quad, there was a constant smell of tobacco with lingering smells of alcohol that everybody pretended was from surgery even though they knew it wasn't from surgery. the wards were long and bleak, the corridors were bleak and long.  and the doctors walked around with an air of superiority like they always did. 

“Hello can I help you mam?”

“ Yes please sir.  where can I find the new acute psychiatry ward?”

“ You mean the Maudsley Ward?”

“Yes.” 

Maxine revised his directions in her head over and over.  her memory wasn't her greatest asset, it was one of the reasons she had made the move to midwifery, less to remember.

Initially, she had stumbled into nursing. In school she had decent grades, a mix of C’s and B’s, and she was pretty decent with her hands. After school and on weekends she spent time in her mother's bakery and at the local church she played the organ. Her teacher had suggested nursing to her as medicine was ‘too hard for most women’. She didn't have the energy to challenge her teacher, she had spent the best part of five years going back and forth with him; in the end she listened to his advice. The navy was the best thing that could have happened for her, it made her spine stand straighter and made her eyes see clearer.  As soon as she finished nursing at school, she taught from island to island, territory to territory.  Seeing the world was her greatest memory; she wanted to settle down and take things at a slower pace.  

Rosyth was a slower place. 

Stonehouse was not her first Choice. 

Before setting off on a wild adventure across the continents, Maxine had spent her childhood and teenage years in Scotland.  She was born in Lincolnshire, however she didn't count it as she didn't live there for very long. Scotland was home.  The charcoal-grey, cobbled streets, the short blistering summers, and the gratuitous cold of winter. All the little things made Scotland absolutely perfect for her. When her placement at Rosyth was cancelled, due to admin errors, she cried. 

She had prayed until her knees were almost bruised, dark blue like her uniform. Alas, she begrudgingly made the move to Stonehouse. It was slow as well. And it was beautiful. The Devon hills rolled and stretched out further than the eye could see. The green of the moors and the blues of the channel were reminiscent of home. 

They weren’t home.

Maxine was adept at avoiding eye contact, it was an art really. Make enough eye contact to be friendly and inviting but not enough to be awkward. Make enough eye contact so the patient feels heard and seen but not enough for your colleague to assume anything more than a professional relationship.

The less eye contact she made, the more powerful she was. Or at least, the more powerful she told herself she was, poorly following the directions to Maudsley was a pretty powerless feeling.

“Hello, is this Maudsley?”

“You’re the midwife we are expecting?”

Her shoulders dropped. Enough time had passed between when she had been called to her arrival that she could put it down to a patient’s care running over; it was still embarrassing because she knew she’d been wandering the corridors like a lost Shetland pony.

Maudsley had bleak lights, they were probably the new LED lights everyone was talking about. They were meant to run for longer and not overheat, they definitely cost more than an arm and a leg. The white lights forced her eyes wider. There were tiles snaking around the walls, turquoise blue to match the floors. It felt warmer than the other wards, there were no curtains to make a breeze, only doors to treatment rooms. The windows into the treatment rooms reminded her of the windows at the local chippy, there was a small sill, just enough for her to dig her fingers into and prop herself up whenever she made an order.

She walked slowly, absorbing Maudsley in its entirety. At her pace, she caught glimpses of the patients, each one different from the last. One was screaming into the wall about nihilism, the other making languid movements across the padded floors. Their delirium was trapped between the soft walls; Maxine could feel the tension from the ward crawling up her chest.

“This here is the new build.”

“It is.”

“Special lights from America.”

“I see.”

“And their jackets are softer.”

Maxine nodded. 

“Less rubbing on their skin, you see.”

“I see.”

“Aight, she’s in here.”

“Thank you.”

The patient was a small woman, maybe five foot in height if she sat up straight. It wasn’t just her height, her limbs seemed too short and her swollen belly was far too big for her small frame. It was as if someone had stuck it onto her, like a prosthesis. Everything else about her was tiny, her droopy eyes, her pointy ears and her thin hair. Maxine was surprised they had handcuffs small enough to fit her emaciated wrists.

She walked over to the silver sink and washed her hands. The iodine smell was welcoming and grounding, it was the only thing ‘normal’ about Maudsley. Even the latex gloves were different, both in colour and texture, there was no tight elastic at the wrist either. For safety of course. Sometimes for patient safety. Sometimes for staff safety.

There were different types of patients at Maudsley, the ones that wanted to hurt themselves and the ones that wanted to hurt others. They came in different shapes and sizes- some were recluse and quiet but they were still ruminating on the best way to burn the place down. Others were chaotic and frantic but just wanted to hurt themselves irrevocably. 

Maxine had dealt with her fair share of both groups, the ones that would go to any length to harm themselves and the ones that were sadists, lusting to harm her. What always stuck out to her was the patients, not the transient staff. 

The man sat with her, in a teal blue paramedic uniform was the first thing she noticed when she looked around. Not the crinkled, scrunched ultrasound or the bite marks in the wall.

“Hello, my name is Joe.”

“Hello my name is Maxine.”

When he stuck out his arm, she jumped back. “Sorry, reflex.”

“Understandable.”

As he nodded, she got a better view of his beard, thick and brown, tucked under his jaw. It looked soft and mossy. 

“I am going to try to shake your hand, not attack you.”

“Thank you for the commentary.”

His palms were warm, even through the cyan gloves she could feel his heat. His strength startled her too, he was stalky and from his half crouched half standing pose looked only a few inches taller than her.

“Would you like a handover?”

“Yes please.”

“Ok so this patient is…”

She should have kept her eyes on him as he recounted the patient details but they were making her cheeks burn warm. It was probably uncomfortable for the patient but Maxine couldn’t look away. If she wanted to maintain composure and hide her blushing, she had to focus on her ‘top to toe’ assessment.

The woman was bruised blackcurrant purple at her joints, there were a few grazes on her hips and a raw gash on her upper arm. Her belly was scratched and scattered with broken skin. She didn’t blink the whole time Maxine watched her, ignoring Joe.

“Can I feel your tummy please?”

“Not unless you want to die.”

“I don’t want to die.”

“Then don’t touch me.”

Maxine took one step closer to the woman.

Joe’s arms flexed in her peripheral vision. His veins were stunning, perfect to take blood from. “Your veins are great, Joe.”

“You are such a typical nurse.”

She chuckled, it was choppy and unnatural. The forced small talk wasn’t enough to unlace the tension in the room. “I’m just saying, if you ever need someone to take your blood…”
“I will personally come to find you when I need my bloods done.”

His smile was inviting, asking her to delve into his world. Maxine took another step, this time edging closer to Joe. “If you won't let me feel your belly, I can’t check the baby.”

“There is no baby, only Lucifer.”

That was new. Usually the Lucifer themed hallucinations are around living people, not unborn foetuses. “Lucifer?”

“Yes. Lucifer is growing in me, taking over.”

“Ok.”

“Everyday he kicks me and tells me secrets.”

“He tells you secrets.”

“Yes. I cannot tell you what he says or else he will punish me.” The woman shook her head, flicking loose strands out of her face. “I do not want to be punished.”

“I see. I want to help you.”

“Please help me. Please.” Her whisper filled the room, as quiet as it was.

The ten blocks, sixty wards and 1200 beds, (not including the staff beds) weren’t as tangled on the way back. Maxine smoothed her hair behind her ear, Joe’s voice had made her sweat through the top layer of the pomade in her bun. She was still warm, and not from the new work shoes rubbing against the side of her toes.

She hadn’t spent much time studying him, but from the corner of her eye, he was splendid. His accent was unfamiliar, he wasn’t a local either and the grit in his voice felt like a hug.

“Maxine! Maxine!”

Her heart thrummed, so much time at  Stonehouse left her perpetually on edge. The group of patients who lusted from harming others had succeeded from time to time. They’d slipped through the cracks and pushed, stabbed and maimed nurses. The personal vendettas weren’t as scary in other hospitals. Maybe the patient would shout at her or even spit if they were particularly audacious. Stonehouse was different, not quite Broadmoor but still menacing enough to raise Maxine’s pulse. 

Maxine flinched from the leather rubbing at her flesh, it was going to be so raw the next day; it was better than her being attacked by a patient.

“Maxine please! It’s me, Joe.”

“Joe?”

“You forgot your stethoscope.”

She touched her neck. She dropped it when she walked into the Maudsley treatment room. It usually intimidated patients so she’d made the habit of taking it off. 

“You left it on the ward.”

“Thank you Joe.”

“I am reaching out to return your stethoscope.”

“Thank you for the further commentary.”

“Don’t want to make you jump again.”

“I won’t jump this time.”

Joe chuckled. It was a full bellied chortle. It forced her out of her swirling thoughts. Often her thoughts were a blurred cacophony with no clear start or end. Up close, she could smell his cologne, it was fragrant like fresh picked berries in autumn. Her lips parted slightly, her subconscious wanted to draw in his scent as much as she possibly could. 

“Thank you for not jumping. I like the colour.”

Her brow crawled up the side of her face. “Colour?”

“The stethoscope. It kind of matches your eyes.”

“My eyes are lilac?”

“Grey-blue?”

As Joe ran his hand through his dreadlocked hair, his cheeks rouged. “I was trying to compliment you Maxine.”

“I see.”

Their steps filled the silence, the click-clack of the stethoscope set the pace. Her shoes rubbed her feet. 

“I hope to see you on the ward again soon.”

“I hope so too.”

THE END