They were the odd couple - two patients who, to all appearances, had nothing in common; but together formed a friendship that made us all smile.
Fred was in his early seventies, a funny old bloke who’d taken a tumble down some stairs resulting in a SDH. He was old, confused, and was as funny as a frog in a sock. Put simply, he was a lovely old man. He was also a wanderer.
Greg was a young bloke in his thirties - MVA with all of the associated injuries - initially combative, but once the swelling went down, turned out to be a sweety. AOx1, and still in PTA, Greg was pleasantly confused. Although he couldn’t be trusted to go off the ward by himself (he too was a wanderer), he would always keep an eye out for the other wanderers, alerting staff to any problems and helping other confused patients back to their beds.
In the course of their extended stay with us, Greg and Fred struck up a friendship - watching out for each other, keeping each other company, and keeping each other from wandering off.
One day they were playing cards on Fred’s bed while the wife of the patient in the next bed was coming to terms with the newly delivered news that he husband was going to die soon. She had been crying and the two boys came over to me and asked what was wrong with the patient.
“Guys, I’m sorry but I can’t go into the details of another patient”, I responded.
“But he’s going to die, isn’t he?” Fred asked in hushed tones.
I could see the concern on the two boys’ faces and let them know that their roommate was going die and that he probably didn’t have very long.
Things got a bit busy on the floor after that, and about an hour later I noticed them loitering at the front reception desk. They looked pretty suss, trying to play it cool and look incognito, but it was clear that they were up to something.
They were trying to hide something between them as they inched back to their room. The ’something’ was a beautiful bunch of flowers that had just been left in a vase on the front desk by a patient’s relatives. Although the vase was still at reception, a trail of dripping water on the floor lead to Fred and Greg’s feet. I kept an eye on them as they made their getaway. They were trying not to grin, and I’m sure that the felt that they were pulling off the perfect crime. I knew that they had been pinching the occasional chocolate from the front desk, but couldn’t work out why they had decided to shift to Grand Theft Floral.
After being distracted by another patient, I made my way down towards Fred & Greg’s room to find the wife of the dying patient while giving them both a hug before she left for the night. In her right hand was a bunch of flowers that looked remarkably familiar…
She said good night to me on her way out, and let me know how much she appreciated the kind words from Fred and Greg, and how they had gone and bought her some beautiful flowers that they insisted she take home with her to brighten her house up. I didn’t have the heart to set her straight and wished her a safe drive home.
When I went to see the boys, they realised that they were sprung when I held up the empty vase with a raised eyebrow.
They sheepishly looked at each other and Greg turned to me and said, “That lady was so sad that her husband is going to die. We had to do something to make her feel better…”
It is always a thing of beauty to see compassion and kindness in an environment where abusiveness, generalised rudeness, and a sense of entitlement is the norm with many patients.
