Chapter 4
4
Beth
It always took Beth at least an hour to settle into her shift. Once the staff handover was complete, she spent a while revisiting each patient’s notes and charts so that everything she’d just been told embedded itself. She was tired, and anxious she might make a mistake, but that wasn’t why she did it. The patients on this ward were so poorly, it wasn’t just about the physical care she could give. It went way beyond that.
There were no doctors’ rounds at night. No consultants, no physiotherapists, no rehab or palliative care nurses either, so it was much quieter than during the day. For most it was the only chance to sleep without being interrupted, but for many, night-time was when fear crept in, when facing their own mortality became almost too much to bear. And for those patients, Beth was a friendly face and a sympathetic ear. She was hot buttered toast and cups of tea among the whispered confessions of the endless hours until dawn.
Strictly speaking, none of these things were what Beth was paid to do, but she and all her colleagues did them because if they didn’t, what was left of humanity? They worked in a profession which had become hobbled by a lack of resources with little money to reverse the situation. As nurses, what they offered had become driven by cost, and ruled by targets they hadn’t a hope of reaching, but a kind word or a gentle touch still meant far more than could ever be quantified. And the day she forgot that would be the day Beth turned her back on her career forever.
She smiled as Lisa came into view. Beth was a senior staff nurse, so as ward sister Lisa was one step up from her and, although fairly new to the hospital, she and Beth had hit it off from day one. Beth appreciated her no-nonsense, common-sense approach, which also came with a priceless sense of humour. Today though, Lisa’s usual sunny smile was absent from her face.
‘You didn’t hear this from me,’ she said as she reached Beth, adding several charts to the pile already on the desk beside them. ‘But the memo is going in pigeonholes in the morning.’ Beth didn’t need to ask which one; talk on the wards had been about little else for weeks.
‘What does it say?’ asked Beth. ‘I know you’re not supposed to tell me, but?—’
‘But I’m going to because I’m an angel. Plus, it’s unfair and we all know it.’ Lisa crossed to a filing cabinet behind them, pulling out a single sheet of paper. ‘Like I said, you didn’t hear this from me, and you haven’t seen this either,’ she added, sliding the memo across the desk. ‘Basically, it’s as we thought. A restructure, which means we’re all going to have to reapply for our jobs.’
Beth scanned the letter in front of her. ‘How many have to go?’ she asked, looking for the detail.
‘Altogether…? Two,’ replied Lisa. ‘And of those remaining, four of us will effectively stay on the same grade, although we’ll be called something completely different.’ She tapped a paragraph at the base of the letter. ‘While sadly three will have newly created roles, on the newly created grade structure which doesn’t fool anyone. You can call us and the grades anything you like, but we can still spot a pay cut when we see one.’
‘Jesus…’ said Beth under her breath. It was even worse than they’d feared.
Lisa was studying Beth intently. ‘How’s Jack?’ she asked.
‘Same as usual,’ Beth replied. ‘And yes, completely oblivious to what’s going on here.’
‘ Beth …’
‘I know. And you’re right, I should have told him. But we can’t exist on any less than I get now, so as long as it doesn’t affect him, he doesn’t need to know about it. If things don’t work out then we’ll have that conversation, but you know how tough it is, Lisa. I can’t heap any more shit on him.’
Lisa raised her eyebrows. ‘But you’ll happily wallow in it yourself?’ She tutted. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, but I worry about you, Beth. You have enough on your plate as it is.’ She nudged Beth’s arm. ‘Obviously, lucky old me is going to be asked for my opinion of those applying to stay on your grade, so I hope you know that I will be singing your praises at the top of my lungs. And I will be extremely unpleasant to anyone who says differently. Not that anyone would,’ she added quickly.
‘How long have we got?’
Lisa blew out a stream of air. ‘Not long. Applications have to be in by the end of the month.’
‘But that’s only three weeks away.’
‘Yep. So, shout if you need any help. Anything at all.’
‘What about you, though?’ asked Beth. ‘You’ve still got to apply for your job.’
‘Yes, but I’ve been buying Matron chocolate Hobnobs for weeks now. I’ll be a shoo-in, don’t worry about me.’
Beth rolled her eyes. ‘Honestly, Lisa, I—’ She stopped abruptly as a raucous noise sounded from the electronic board which covered one wall behind them. As one they both swivelled to face it.
‘ Shit , it’s Bernard…’
‘I’ll bleep the crash team,’ replied Beth, but Lisa was already racing down the corridor.
It’s not like it is on the television when someone dies. In reality, the battle to save someone’s life takes much longer. The team had already discussed with Bernard his right not to be resuscitated, just as they did with all patients in his situation. It was different for everyone. Some categorically did not want to struggle, but Bernard and his wife had both agreed that a few weeks, or even a few days longer would be worth it. It would give them time to say all the things they needed to, and for Bernard to hopefully see the faces of his grandchildren for one last time. So, the crash team worked on him for nearly half an hour before they agreed that nothing further could be done.
It was almost half past one in the morning and in the hours since the crash call had first gone out, the doctor had been to certify Bernard’s death and the routine wheels which were required to turn had been set in motion. Beth had also sat with his wife, Irene, holding first her hand and then her shaking shoulders while the initial shock and emotion had poured out of her. It was only now, with the arrival of Bernard’s other family, that Beth was free to check on how Lisa was doing.
‘Why do we let ourselves get so attached?’ she said, giving Beth a wan smile. ‘Every time someone dies, I think I won’t let myself do that again. I’ll remain professional, impersonal, just like everyone tells us we’re supposed to be. But I don’t. You’d think I’d have learned my lesson by now.’
Beth looked at Lisa’s weary face, seeing the faint lines where tears had tracked their way down her cheeks to drop off the end of her chin. She pushed a mug of tea towards her.
‘We do it because we’re human,’ she said. ‘Because Bernard wasn’t just a patient in a bed with a whole set of problems to resolve. He was an eighty-six-year-old man who had lived a whole life, and in the time we were privileged to know him we learned all about that life – about the hardships he and his family faced when he was young, about his love of engineering, about how, as a little boy, he would tinker with any bit of machinery he could find, and how that love led to his first job, working on the canal. He told us about his favourite boats – the ones he built which made him really proud. We know how he met and fell in love with Irene, and how the first of their three children was born just seven months after they were married. Now that child is grown up with two children of her own, and we’ve met both her and her siblings, and all the children they’ve got between them – Bernard’s grandchildren, the loves of his life. So, you tell me how, knowing all of that, we can possibly remain detached.’
Lisa sniffed, her hands wrapped around her mug of tea, taking comfort from its warmth. ‘He was such a lovely man,’ she said.
‘He was,’ replied Beth. ‘Which is exactly why we fought so hard for him and, at the end, when it was obvious we couldn’t save him, we gave him back his dignity and, I hope, the reassurance that he was among friends when he died.’
Lisa nodded gently, silent for a moment as she thought about the truth of Beth’s words. They didn’t change anything, but then that wasn’t why Beth said them. It was a reminder that whatever else this job forced them to be, above all else they remained human.
‘How’s Irene doing?’ asked Lisa.
‘She’s with her daughter,’ replied Beth. ‘And both of her sons will be here soon. Time is the only thing we can give them right now, but they know where we are when the questions come.’
Lisa looked up, a resigned expression on her face. ‘And in the meantime, we offer tea and sympathy,’ she said. ‘One of the things we do best.’
‘And there’s nothing wrong with that either,’ said Beth. ‘Small kindnesses become very large at times like these.’
Beth remembered them well from the time when Jack had hovered in the space between life and death. How for days she had sat beside him not knowing what the future would look like, her head full of questions she hadn’t a hope of answering. She had felt scattered, adrift, as if her tether to the world was working its way loose, and it was only the care and caring from the hospital staff which had kept her grounded. For months on end Beth’s world had become, at best, complicated chaos, and at worst, something she wasn’t sure she wanted to live through herself. Those times each day when she had sat in the hospital were the only constant through it all.
It was almost three o’clock before she and Lisa had caught up with their workload sufficiently to allow Beth to take her break, by which time Jack had already been lying on their bedroom floor at home for well over two hours.