Hospital experiences and fun time holidays with friends in the UK

Excerpted from Memories that Linger: My journey in the world of disability
 by Padmani Mendis

A sharp recollection is of my first day at the Hollymoor Hospital, Northfield where I was to have contact with patients who had psychiatric conditions. A nurse led me from the entrance and paused to open a door to a sectioned off part of the hospital with a key. He then led me through a second locked door to a third. On entering what was obviously a lobby area of a ward, he led me directly to a patient who stood absolutely rigid and looked as if he were a statue. The nurse said to me, “This is your patient, Mr. Ex. I will be back for you in half an hour.” With that the nurse disappeared, locking the door behind him.

Now what was I to do? I was scared out of my wits. Gingerly I approached Mr. Ex and tried to have a conversation with him. But Mr. Ex would have none of it. We had learned that life was changing for patients with schizophrenia with the introduction of new medication. But it obviously had not reached Mr. Ex as yet. He would not respond to me. So I stood there for half an hour looking around me in great fear.

There were patients who were just walking to and fro, gesturing “madly”; others who would be moving their bodies in one direction or another, sometimes even turning round in circles; and plenty having conversations seemingly with themselves, conversing with emotion – laughing one moment, angry the next. And then there was one who would not take his eyes off me. I reminded myself, “don’t be silly. You have been told that none of the patients in this ward are violent. None get out of control. Just pull yourself together.” Those 30 minutes were the longest ever.

Happier times were to come during my stint at the Sorrento Maternity Hospital. Antenatal classes, preparing would-be mothers for natural childbirth were joyful; and postnatal physio with those who had just become mothers was rewarding. Catching time to observe the miracle of childbirth in the delivery room was sheer luck.

Similarly, two-weeks were spent at the Patshull Rehabilitation Centre. The Centre was located in Patshull Hall on the very large Patshull Estate. We were told that the house and estate dated back to the 18th century. Patshull Hall was now used to provide intensive rehabilitation to young men to make them ready to go back to the sports that they had come from.

Most of these muscular and burly hulks had had knee surgery. Torn cartilages while doing sports was common and had to be removed. As a student I was here to experience what intensive rehabilitation was; this was to be learned by joining the young men in such strenuous activities as playing football and walking and running many kilometres a day. I did not learn this through participation with them as I was expected to. Instead, I learned through observation.

Holiday Time was Fun Time

And in between all these periods of learning came holidays. Time for fun and a different kind of enjoyment. Let me share a few as they surface in my consciousness. A week in Aberdeen over the Scottish New Year or Hogmanay, was one of my earliest while studying in Birmingham. It was arranged as a group vacation by the British Council located in the city centre. The Scottish family that hosted me made me a part of their family from the time they met me. On New Year’s Eve, after a traditional dinner which had, of course, to include Haggis and Turnips, they took me ‘first footing”.

As we approached each house, I had to be at the front so that the hosting family would see me first. Why? Because seeing a dark face was a good omen! A toast of sherry was a must in each home visited. Very soon my head was turning around. I don’t recall how that night ended.

The next day we were at a gathering in the Town Hall, being hosted by the Mayor. Now, in our group were two Russians, a total novelty in the UK because Russians had just started stepping out. One of these two was particularly good looking with an attractive personality and was an instant hit. I was a novelty too in my colourful saree and brown skin. The two of us were soon paired off. We were standing on either side of the Mayor when called for, interviewed together and at the centre of photographs. This continued for the rest of our holiday. Now why do I remember that young man’s face so clearly as I write this? Where is he now at 85 years of age or thereabouts?

Then there was the week on the Norfolk Broads in the East of England. The summer vacation was coming to us at Belmont. Eight of us made plans for a holiday together on the water, on the Norfolk Broads – none of us had been to that part of England before. We booked a houseboat that would accommodate us all.

We made plans to get there and soon we were off. Joyce, Gerry, Gill and Jackie decided they would hitch-hike their way there. Barbara, Mahin and I took the train – we were not used to asking strangers for a ride. Lyda was driven there by her boyfriend Lew who came back later to collect her. The four on the road were lucky with their thumbs and had good rides so all eight of us arrived at the houseboat more or less together.

The next day we were lazing around on deck wondering how we could get around the Broads. Our houseboat was moored. We could not afford a motorised one. But not for long did we have to wonder. Soon enough, alongside came a boat on which were four happy and loud young men. They saw a group of young women on another boat and knew their holiday was made. It turned out later that they were cameramen for the BBC.

They were soon enough on board our boat. And soon enough too they had more or less paired off with our native friends. We had our ride on the waterways for the rest of the week. The boys took us around and we provided their food. Scrabble and other board games while sailing during the day; in the evenings it would be a drink at the pub nearby and a sing song or charades at night. A good arrangement and one that made for an exceptional holiday, sailing the waterways.

Later, the eight of us would have a caravan holiday together at Beer in Devon on the south coast. Yet another way of life and another experience. One fun memory was the eight of us hitching a ride to the city of Exeter on the south-east tip of England. A farmer and his truck on their way to Exeter was kind to us, stopping to take us all the way. Mahin and I had the privilege of riding in the front seat on account of being elders. The other six had to perch themselves on the bales of straw being carried by the farmer to the fair in town. Rather precarious, but safe.

One year, Mahin, Jen and I went to Guernsey on the Channel Isles. We wanted a restful holiday. After getting off the boat, we walked around for a while and found a hotel to suit us. To save money we booked a room for three; Mahin and Jen shared a bed while I had one to myself. We would spend our days walking around the island and on its beaches, sitting down occasionally at a café for a coffee and to watch the passers-by. One day we went to the island of Sark. No motorised vehicles are allowed on Sark. We hired a horse cart for the day and were driven to all the hot spots of Sark. We did not see the Dame of Sark who at that time made many of the decisions that had to be made about her island.

Another day we took the boat to Herm and collected sea shells on the beautiful beach. We lay on that beach in the sun. When we got up to leave I held my forearm against Jen’s. She said “Oh Padi, you have got a tan. I didn’t think you could.” After that whenever my friends sat in the sun, I would always find a shady spot to lie in. It was a quiet week and we were back at Belmont refreshed.

Space for a last memorable holiday. This one was in the Scilly Isles off Exeter at the south-east corner of England to where as I said we had hitched a ride. This too was arranged by the British Council. I felt safe going on holidays arranged by them when I had decided to go alone. The isles only export was flowers and this attracted me.

What I am left with are memories of unending fields of flowers. Fields of yellow daffodils, of white and of yellow narcissi, and of tulips in their myriad of colours. Memories of staying with the only dentist serving the islands and his lovely wife; a young, warm and generous couple. They took me to see the flowers close at hand, to see them being plucked, packed and made ready for their journey to many parts of Europe. Their destiny.

To Their Homes with Friends

As I look back on those holiday memories, they come merged with the joyous visits to the homes of the many friends who took me to meet their families. Elizabeth took me to her home on a farm near Warwick for a weekend. The long drive was lined with apple trees all covered with white blossom. So was the area around the house covered with similar trees. Mrs. Surman and Elizabeth took me out the next day. We passed their horses grazing in the meadow. They lifted their heads in greeting when they heard the motor and tossed their tails to say hello.

Mrs. Surman stopped her car at our destination, way out on a country road. “Look, Padi,” she said. I turned my head only to see a sheet of blue. And just then that blue sheet swayed gently in the breeze that blew over it, as if to wave at me. “Oh, bluebells,” I said. She replied, “Yes, this is a Bluebell Wood.”

On another weekend, Jen took me home to West Kirby in Cheshire to meet her father, Vicar McTear, her mother and two younger sisters. Gill took me to meet her father Colonel Brysson, her mother and young sisters in Liverpool. Jan took me to meet her family to Shrewsbury in Shropshire. Beryl took me home to spend an evening with her family not far away in Walsall, Birmingham. Her parents were green grocers and they lived above their shop. I came away with a generous bag full of plums and apricots, and later as it turned out, chicken pox. A special gift from her young brother.

Rosemarie Mapp took me home to meet her farmer father and her mother. And her young brother who would one day inherit that huge farm. Like at Elizabeth’s farm, this too was plentiful with apple trees. This time they were laden with fruit. I told Mrs. Mapp that I loved apples. I had never seen an apple-laden tree before and had always wanted to pick one straight off for a bite. Could I please do that?

And so it went on and on. They all gave me beautiful memories to live with.

Overcoming Loneliness

On certain days when I was still at Woodlands, I would have a day off while my friends would all be working. Such days were often lonely. I had to get out somewhere to get rid of that feeling. Many a day I spent walking in the parks and around town. On many other days, I would take the short train ride to Stratford-on-Avon and reflect on the Bard. How could one man have produced all that brilliant writing? I would at times repeat to myself, “Friends, Romans, Countryman…” and “Is this a dagger I see before me? Come, let me clutch thee…” as my brothers had taught me when I was still quite young.

When it was the season, I would go straight to the theatre and buy a ticket for the afternoon matinee to be performed by the Royal Shakespeare Company. What was on stage did not matter, they could all be enjoyed. I would next buy myself a sandwich and a packet of crisps and sit by the River Avon watching the swans swim by. Until it was time to go to the theatre for the performance.

One particular lonely day I thought I had to do something different. So I dressed in my Sunday best – in a soft Dacca cotton in peacock blue, put my hair up, wore my heels and took the bus to the Birmingham Zoo way across on the side of town. I was not alone for long. As I was strolling around, I noticed that an elderly couple was looking my way. They appeared to be talking about me. The gentleman had a complicated looking camera hung around his neck.

Then they had decided. They came up to speak to me. It appeared that he was a professional photographer. He was on an assignment for Kodak, testing a new colour film. Could he take some photographs of me with which his film could be tested? Yes of course he could. We spent the rest of the day together. When it was time to go our separate ways, he took down my address and said he would send me some photos. Which he did. And I sent them to my mother.