Death and Daffodils
"Mrs Etchels passed last night" breathed Nurse Edmonds.
"Aw, not another,.............. what is going on around here?" whispered Nurse Mitchell.
"That's four in three weeks!"
"The poor dears"
Strathblane Community Hospital was being hit hard. It was 1955, and the country was still reflecting some post war traits.
But overall, medicines were better, cures were more common and.......... people didn't just die anymore.
The elderly wing of the hospital was under the guidance of Sister Dickens. She ran it lovingly but firmly. Perfect for the job and well respected by her nurses.
It was a warm and welcoming place for something so clinical, small compared to the modern hospitals sprouting up in the cities and highly thought of by the small surrounding population.
But as of recently, patients were dying! No rhyme or reason, no warnings!
Just death..........stiffs, corpses, cadavers........
Nothing had changed, no major epidemics were around, Cholera, Tuberculosis, Malaria and the likes were of no threat here, not even flu,....... nothing.
Nothing could be blamed!
Even the staff were familiar, the doctors, nurses and auxiliaries, cleaners, drivers and porters. For the past few months, the visitors had remained much the same too, as did the Minister (Bob Robbie).
There was a new face around though, he was an insurance man......
Or so everyone thought.....
But the patients had all met their end differently, with different symptoms.
Cancer, heart failure and aneurysms all played their parts............ well!
Seems an open and shut case....eh?
So....back to the insurance man, appearing around a month ago. He sells life insurance to the elderly and was granted access by those above Sister Dickens. He was pleasant, always had a smile and always carried flowers, cut Daffodils, bright yellow cut Daffodils.
Mr Black was his name.
Life insurance to the elderly, how does that work?
He claimed :-
The elderly get the cover they wanted and needed.
Funeral cover (plot, directors fee, flowers and coffin).
Gives them and their families peace of mind for little money.
Granted, he was a happy little man, who made it simple for them, left them feeling safe and secure under his care?
Took them into his realm....you might say....ahem.
And always brought them flowers,..........cut Daffodils....always cut Daffodils.
What did he get from it all?.......no one knew.
The money didn't balance, it couldn't, not in such a short time.
And often it was very short...........like hours.....
The Daffodils were there, on the window sill, in the jug half full of water. They were a sure sign he'd paid his visit, done his work and left.
The bed was empty, the body gone, the belongings packed away, the name plate down,........but the Daffodils were still there, like a signature on a painting after the work is done!
It was always the same for him.....once he'd covered the elderly wing, he was gone, onto another!
The policies in place, all signed and sealed, his work was finished.
He left in his wake,......... corpses, confusion and....... cut stalks in the local cemetery where the Daffodils once grew.
................................................
So......... if you're contemplating putting an elderly relative into the hospital for care............check the Daffodils in the local burial ground first.............
They may be cut.........................
The End
"The poor dears"
Strathblane Community Hospital was being hit hard. It was 1955, and the country was still reflecting some post war traits.
But overall, medicines were better, cures were more common and.......... people didn't just die anymore.
The elderly wing of the hospital was under the guidance of Sister Dickens. She ran it lovingly but firmly. Perfect for the job and well respected by her nurses.
It was a warm and welcoming place for something so clinical, small compared to the modern hospitals sprouting up in the cities and highly thought of by the small surrounding population.
But as of recently, patients were dying! No rhyme or reason, no warnings!
Just death..........stiffs, corpses, cadavers........
Nothing had changed, no major epidemics were around, Cholera, Tuberculosis, Malaria and the likes were of no threat here, not even flu,....... nothing.
Nothing could be blamed!
Even the staff were familiar, the doctors, nurses and auxiliaries, cleaners, drivers and porters. For the past few months, the visitors had remained much the same too, as did the Minister (Bob Robbie).
There was a new face around though, he was an insurance man......
Or so everyone thought.....
But the patients had all met their end differently, with different symptoms.
Cancer, heart failure and aneurysms all played their parts............ well!
Seems an open and shut case....eh?
So....back to the insurance man, appearing around a month ago. He sells life insurance to the elderly and was granted access by those above Sister Dickens. He was pleasant, always had a smile and always carried flowers, cut Daffodils, bright yellow cut Daffodils.
Mr Black was his name.
Life insurance to the elderly, how does that work?
He claimed :-
The elderly get the cover they wanted and needed.
Funeral cover (plot, directors fee, flowers and coffin).
Gives them and their families peace of mind for little money.
Granted, he was a happy little man, who made it simple for them, left them feeling safe and secure under his care?
Took them into his realm....you might say....ahem.
And always brought them flowers,..........cut Daffodils....always cut Daffodils.
What did he get from it all?.......no one knew.
The money didn't balance, it couldn't, not in such a short time.
And often it was very short...........like hours.....
The Daffodils were there, on the window sill, in the jug half full of water. They were a sure sign he'd paid his visit, done his work and left.
The bed was empty, the body gone, the belongings packed away, the name plate down,........but the Daffodils were still there, like a signature on a painting after the work is done!
It was always the same for him.....once he'd covered the elderly wing, he was gone, onto another!
The policies in place, all signed and sealed, his work was finished.
He left in his wake,......... corpses, confusion and....... cut stalks in the local cemetery where the Daffodils once grew.
................................................
So......... if you're contemplating putting an elderly relative into the hospital for care............check the Daffodils in the local burial ground first.............
They may be cut.........................
The End
Super little narrative with a 'tweak' at the end of it. Loved the pictures, they really set the scene.
ReplyDelete