Chapter 74

Although Jen and Hamish were clearly becoming a permanent fixture, and were both on very good terms with their prospective in-laws, the two sets of parents hadn't actually got around to meeting up, thinking that there was no hurry; after all, there was still another year and a half until their youngsters would graduate and think about getting married.

I was the cause of the future in-laws getting together, in late November 1974, and they found that they actually had a great deal in common, despite the differences in upbringing and education. My Dad had done his National Service in the ranks, Alastair had been a commissioned Medical Officer, but much of their experience had been remarkably similar. My Mum and Catriona also took to each other immediately, and got on like a house on fire.

It happened like this.

Malcolm had managed to get tickets for 'Pink Floyd' playing Sophia Gardens on Friday 22^nd, but as you could only buy two tickets per person, he couldn't get enough for the rest of us, and by the time he told Fred and I, and we got over there, it was sold out. Much chuntering. Vee confessed to being as sick as a parrot; she'd always wanted to see 'Floyd' live

To console ourselves for our disappointment, Julie and I decided to go and see the twins and get some serious shagging done in the privacy of their flat, rather than sit and sulk all weekend as Sian told us once again how amazing the concert had been...

It chucked it down on the Wednesday, the rain cold and notably heavy even for Cardiff, where we were well used to a steady drizzle a couple of days a week. It was so horrid out that Julie and I didn't bother going up to Maindy Leisure Centre for our weekly swim, reckoning that we'd get too cold and drenched on the way to actually get any benefit from the exercise.

I volunteered to make Julie a cuppa about an hour after lunch, and as I left our room, I noticed Vee and Fred going into the bathroom on the half-landing, and heard the click as the bolt on the door was firmly shot across. I made a pot of tea, took two mugs in to Malcolm and Sian, who were also both studying, and our two mugs into our room. Then I quietly slipped down the half-flight of stairs and listened at the door for a moment. Yup, judging from the sounds that Vee was making, they wouldn't want disturbing for the moment. Oh well, that meant a refill for us. No point in wasting what was left in the pot.

Vee had a VERY happy glint in her eyes at supper, so I grinned to myself. It was good to see our petite flatmate so content, after the trauma of the Spring and her waster of a fiancé, Jeff. Fred was a real find, and they both seemed very happy with life. He also seemed to be able to keep up with her appetites, which Jeff had not even attempted to do.

At least the rain had gone over by Thursday morning; it was a bright autumn day with hardly a cloud in the sky when Malcolm and I went off to the lab through rain-washed streets. We got in a good days work, and to celebrate we took Sian and Julie out for a pint after supper – Vee and Fred were out at their Folk Music Society, preparing for their Christmas concert.

I developed a tummy ache that night. I didn't think much of it, and didn't want to spoil our weekend. I thought it was just constipation from having yet another egg and cheese roll for lunch, and it wasn't until Sheila and I were naked in bed together early the next evening, that it started actually hurting.

Julie and I had caught the four o'clock train and taken a taxi to the flat, where the twins suggested a bit of 'warm up' fun before we went out to supper at the Italian restaurant where we were well known. We had no objections. Anyway, Sheila had rolled on top of me and put her hands on my hips, prior to impaling herself on a ready and eager Gustav, when she managed to put her left hand somewhere really painful.

I squeaked, okay, if truth be told, I yelled out in pain.

"OWWW!"

"God, Jon, are you alright?"

I actually felt physically sick.

"No, that really hurt!"

She climbed off me carefully, her face now showing concern, instead of the lust and passion of only a minute earlier.

"Show me where it hurts."

I pointed at the lower right hand side of my abdomen.

"It's been feeling like constipation, but that was a really sharp pain."

"I'm going to prod, darling, and I don't mean to hurt you, but I'm afraid I might."

Sheila pushed her lovely long slim fingers into the flesh of my lower tummy, stopping as soon as I squeaked again. She bit her lip in thought.

"Let me get Twin!"

She went and disturbed her brother and my girlfriend; whatever she said to them caused them to immediately stop what they were doing, and come running in naked.

"Jon, let Adrian have a quick look, please."

Adrian gently poked me all over the abdomen with his stubbier fingers; he too clearly didn't like my reaction to pressure on the painful bit.

"Sheila, just compare us, will you?"

He laid down next to me, and Sheila prodded him, then me, then him again. She nodded her head.

"Jon, when did you last eat?"

I thought about that.

"I wasn't hungry at lunch time, so apart from my morning and afternoon cuppas, and the one you gave us when we arrived, I suppose breakfast was the last proper meal I had."

"I think we'd better take you into casualty, it feels like your appendix to me, and if it is, the sooner you get it looked at the better! If you can get dressed, we'll take you in."

"I'll just phone Alastair Baxter to see which hospital we should go to, Frenchay or the Royal Infirmary."

Sheila threw her clothes back on, and went to the phone.

"Hello Catriona, it's Sheila Carter here – could I speak to Alastair please? I think Jon has got appendicitis."

"Hello, Alastair, yes, Adrian and I have prodded the lower right abdomen, and there's definitely some bloating and acute discomfort. Oh, that is really kind of you! Thank you so much, yes, we'll be ready."

She was smiling with relief.

"Oh, he is such a nice man! He's going to come and get us in his car and take us to casualty himself."

The rest of us got our clothes back on and put on our coats; as I stretched to put my arms in my sleeves, I felt another stab of pain. Yeah, there was definitely something not right.

There was the hoot of a car horn from outside, and we all trooped downstairs. I got the front passenger seat, and the other three piled into the back. Alastair set off as soon as the doors were shut, and in a surprisingly short time had us outside casualty at the Frenchay Hospital. He parked in one of the 'Consultants Only' slots, as was his right, and took us in to reception.

The Sister in charge did a double take as she recognised him.

"Hello, Dr Baxter, I'm not used to seeing you on that side of my desk! What can I do for you?"

"Hello, Sister, one of my young friends seems to be developing a nice case of appendicitis – who is the duty thoracic surgeon tonight?"

"Appendicitis – that would be Mr Garthwaite. I'll get one of the nurses to find him, he's probably having a quiet coffee and waiting for the Friday night rush."

They put me on a bed in a cubicle, and in a few minutes a chap in a white surgical gown came in, introduced himself, and after a few words, said he was going to press on my abdomen, and that he was sorry but it would most probably hurt. My reaction was enough to convince him of the diagnosis, though he did ask a few other questions, nodding at each answer.

"Right, that's pretty classic appendicitis. We'll do an X-ray just to check it's nothing else, but I'm pretty sure. You'll certainly be happier once I've whipped that out for you. Won't take long, and then you'll be right as rain."

I had VIP treatment that night; the surgeon knew Alastair well, and as he could vouch for my honesty, I didn't have to wait overnight until I'd definitely had no food for eight hours. I was wheeled into X-ray, where there was no sign of any other obstruction, and then on to a ward.

I did however have to suffer the indignity of having a suppository stuffed up my bottom by a middle-aged staff nurse, and being told to hold off as long as I could before heading for the toilet. Let's not go into the unpleasant details, but suffice it to say that the bottom dropped out of my world ten minutes later, and it wasn't a great experience. I think I probably looked very pale and interesting when I emerged from the cubicle. Better that than soiling myself when the general anaesthetic totally relaxed me, though!

Within the hour I was on the operating table, having failed to count up to ten for the anaesthetist, and by ten o'clock that evening I was awake enough to be able to speak briefly to Julie, Sheila and Adrian who had been sitting in the corridor waiting all that time. They looked very relieved to see me, and were able to fill me in on what had happened to me, Mr Garthwaite having come out of theatre in his scrubs and reassured them that all was well, while I was still pretty much out of it in the recovery area.

"He asked if you were likely to want your appendix in a jar of formalin as a souvenir, we told him that you probably wouldn't."

I was thankful for that; although it might have been an interesting conversation piece, I hoped that I'd never be someone who was desperate to tell everyone they met about their operation, and a gruesome reminder sitting on the mantelpiece was not on my list of ambitions.

Julie told me that she had phoned Jen at about nine o'clock and alerted her, she in turn was going to let our Mum and Dad know. Alastair had gone home as soon as he had known that I was okay, and the others headed back to the flat by taxi after they had seen me. I dozed off. I was aware later that the bed I was in was moving, but was too woozy to care. They woke me up a couple of times to check my pulse and temperature, but I went straight back to sleep each time.

I was woken for breakfast at some ungodly hour of the morning; I rejected the offer of a bowl of prunes, toyed with some cereal and a slice of toast, but did have two cups of tea. They didn't do a lot to take away the nasty chemical taste in my mouth, despite being rather stewed, but I felt a lot better for having had something to drink.

The nurse produced a wide-mouthed glass bottle when I asked if I could go to the toilet; she said that I should stay in bed that day so as not to risk pulling the wound. At least she drew the curtains around my bed while I used it; it was embarrassing enough passing her a bottle of my pee to pour down the toilet. The consolation for the suppository the previous evening was that I had no wish at all to spend tuppence. From what I'd gleaned over the years, doing a poo while lying in bed was quite a performance, and I had no wish to try.

I found when I sat back up and my curtains were opened that I was in a bed between a bloke in his twenties who had fallen off a roof while fixing leaking slates, and an old boy who'd broken his shoulder tripping over. Eddie was encased in what looked like a great big Meccano set with his right leg attached to a pulley that held it up in the air; he explained that they were trying to keep it the correct length while the bone healed, so he wouldn't have a limp. There seemed to be a hell of a lot of weights attached to the other end of the rope, and it didn't look at all comfortable, even with a whole pile of pillows. The fact that his left wrist was also in a plaster cast clearly didn't help, but he assured me that he was right handed, so life wasn't too impossible.

Mr. Barratt introduced himself as 'Maf', and quietly confided that his first name was 'Mafeking', which is why he didn't mind being addressed formally by the nursing staff. He said that the young girl who had admitted him had asked twice how to spell it, and had no idea that the name came from the South African town which had been besieged by the Boers.

"It was the custom of the day – you wouldn't believe how many Alberts there were at my school, even though he'd been dead for forty years, and of course it could have been much worse – I could have been named 'Ladysmith' and I'd never have lived that down. I met a fella once who had the Christian names Herbert Kitchener, and he swore blind that he knew someone called Colenso Modder Garnet Buller, I forget the surname now. Oh, and there was an Inkerman Theodore Somebody on the school Roll of Honour!"

I was trying not to laugh because my tummy was sore from the operation, but that one did make me do more than smile. My sister and I had been given a bit of grief at school at being 'Jon & Jen', but that was nothing in comparison. Mind you, in a Victorian society that revered Isambard Kingdom Brunel and Sir Garnet Wolseley, 'Mafeking' as a Christian name was probably nothing unusual.

I discovered from my new friends that I was on an orthopaedic ward, there not being a spare bed in the male surgical ward. Not that it mattered one jot to me, the care was excellent and the company cheerful.

Well, if truth be told, Eddie wasn't entirely cheerful when the time came for his daily clean-up. The curtains were drawn round his bed, and a procession of nurses with bed-pan, hot water and clean sheets passed by. He said the odd bad word as two nurses helped him on to the bedpan; it can't have been very pleasant, and I was again glad that I had been spared that ordeal. I suspected that the bed bath wasn't that much fun either, not with one leg firmly attached to a weighted pulley.

Maf bought a newspaper when the trolley came round; I hadn't got any money, and he kindly said that I could have a read of it once he'd skimmed through it.

The good part of the morning was the cup of tea at ten o'clock, I drank mine down with such speed that the woman with the trolley poured me another one. The bad part was the consultant's round – even though it was a Saturday, all the staff were paraded around the ward in a respectful silence while the consultant orthopaedic surgeon interviewed his patients. It didn't include me, but they spent quite a time gathered round Eddie, who was pretty anxious until they finally decided that his leg was indeed in the right position for the bone to knit properly, and that it wouldn't have to be rebroken.

Visiting hours were from two until four, so I slept the rest of the morning, although I got disturbed every hour for 'observations' of my pulse, temperature and blood pressure. Enquiry merely brought forth the response that it was to check that I wasn't feverish after my operation.

Lunch was served just after twelve, a bland vegetable soup dominated by diced carrot, a chunk of un-identifiable fish in a white sauce with mashed potato and more diced carrots, and an orange jelly with a dab of pink blancmange on top. I was hungry, so ate every scrap. It was nutrition, or as 'Star Trek's' Mr. Spock would have been misquoted, 'it's food, Jim, but not as we know it'. I wasn't going to get fat on it. I must have been asleep again when they collected my empty dishes.

After an inspection by the ward Sister to check that our beds were all neat and tidy with the sheets pulled up and the hospital corners tight, the doors were opened to visitors at two o'clock precisely. A young woman with a baby came to Eddie, an older woman with a walking stick to Maf, and to my consternation, I found my Mum and Dad at the end of my bed.

"Crikey! That didn't take long! I hope Jen didn't frighten you?"

Mum grimaced.

"She could have chosen her words a lot better! Starting off by saying that you'd been rushed to hospital was not exactly how I'd have done it, but she did remember to say that you'd had your operation and were fine. But we thought we'd come down first thing this morning anyway."

"I'm so very sorry to have worried you!"

"It's not like you did it deliberately, is it? It was just Jen getting her knickers in a twist. For some reason she's very fond of you, and she was pretty upset when she heard from Julie. Anyway, now I've seen you looking so chipper, it's all fine and dandy. Mrs Baxter has very kindly offered to put us up for the night, and it's a good chance to get to know them."

"They're really nice people; they've been incredibly kind to us. Alastair brought me here himself, and I'm sure that's why it got dealt with so quickly."

We chatted for a few minutes longer; as I'd been home a fortnight earlier there wasn't a lot of news to exchange. I was really pleased that they had troubled to drive down; even as a young adult, when you are feeling grotty there's nothing quite like having your Mum fuss over you.

"Anyway, your girlfriend is probably champing at the bit outside, so we'll go now, and let her come in."

My parents both gave me a hug, promised to come back that evening, and left. Julie and Sheila were at my bedside two minutes later.

They had brought me some grapes, a bar of Cadbury's Tiffin, and a pack of Ginger Nuts. More importantly, Julie had brought my tray purse, so I now had some money for when the trolley came round the ward. She'd also got my spongebag, so I'd be able to shave and make myself presentable.

It seemed from what they were saying that the three of them had been more worried about me than I had been, and also that I'd slept better than they had. It had been quite a shock for them, but they were also chuffed that the twins had worked out what the problem was so quickly. Not that I was gratified to be their first 'live' patient, but reason told me that if I had been in Cardiff that weekend, I still might be in blissful ignorance that my appendix was doing the dirty on me, and I was appropriately grateful to Sheila.

After half an hour's chat, they both kissed me again, and set off for the flat, promising to be back in the evening. Eddie's visitors had gone and he was engrossed in a puzzle book, while Maf's wife was quietly knitting as she sat beside him as he read his paper, both quiet but content. I dozed again for a bit.

Our supper was served horribly early, at five o'clock. I had reconstituted minestrone soup which had definitely come out of a catering pack, something that looked vaguely like gammon with a piece of tinned pineapple on top, served with watery mashed potato and tinned marrowfat peas, and stewed fruit and custard for pud. I scoffed the lot. At least there was a cup of tea brought round afterwards.

Evening visiting hours were from six until eight; Julie and the twins were there on the dot of six, and Jen and Hamish arrived at half-past, with Mum, Dad and Catriona following on at seven. As you were supposed to have no more than three visitors at a time, each arrival heralded a departure. By half-seven I was exhausted from all the talking, and I could see why visiting times were restricted!

Jen, bless her, had brought me a big bottle of Lucozade. It very much reminded me of the times when the two of us were under the weather as children; it was a sign that Mum believed that we were more seriously ill than just a cold or chill. We'd both caught chickenpox when I was about eight, and were feeling sorry for ourselves until Mum moved us into the same room, brought in the radio, and served us glasses of a new fizzy drink, which we didn't often get. I poured myself a glass immediately as the gammon had made me thirsty, and we told Hamish the story of our introduction to Lucozade. He laughed.

"Yep, me too! I had measles when I was ten, and I knew I was genuinely ill when Mum brought up the Lucozade!"

I was allowed to sit up in the chair next to my bed for an hour once my visitors had gone; I was pleased that I didn't feel at all dizzy. Adrian had kindly brought me a couple of his paperbacks, so I was happy enough.

That evening, the nurse inspecting my wound held up a mirror so that I could see it – she told me that it was far better she showed it to me than that I hurt myself trying to look at it without a mirror. It was actually a wee bit disappointing – a sloping line on a yellow stained patch of skin maybe three inches long, with four black knotted stitches holding it together. I was more concerned about Gustav popping up through my pyjama flies to have a look at the young lady, but fortunately embarrassment claimed him and he stayed inactive.

"Another nice neat job from Mr Garthwaite! You shouldn't have any problem with it, young man, as long as you behave yourself!"

There was a milky drink available before lights out; I avoided the Horlicks and plumped for cocoa with a few of my Ginger Nuts. Maf and Eddie both happily accepted a couple of biscuits, though Maf cited his false teeth and dunked his.

The drink gone and the evening round of pills having been distributed, I ate about half of my bunch of grapes to stave off hunger. These were of course the days before most grapes were seedless, so I had quite a pile of pips on the side of the fruit plate the nurses had given me.

I already missed the freedom of being able to prepare a snack whenever I wanted, and I understood more fully quite why Jen and Hamish had bought a toaster and always grabbed the makings of snacks from their dining hall.

I slept pretty well that night; I remember being woken once for my 'obs' and hearing Eddie muttering to himself, but otherwise I was out for the count until the overhead lights all came on at seven o'clock. The soon-to-depart night staff and the incoming 'early' shift bustled round with basins of water and flannels; much to my pleasure the nurse looked again at my wound under the dressing and told me that I could go to the bathroom and wash myself.

"Don't get water on the wound, take your time, and shout if you need us!"

You wouldn't have thought that thirty-six hours in bed could be so tedious! I was delighted to be up on my feet in my hospital-issue pyjamas, and it was a real pleasure to stand in front of the sink and have a good wash.

Sunday breakfast was fairly simple, toast, cereal and the option of bacon or sausage. I was relieved that they hadn't attempted eggs. I had two cups of tea, and it was almost an anti-climax to have nothing to do until lunch. I did sit up all morning and read a paperback, feeling a lot better for being out of bed. Maf was also sitting in his chair reading his Sunday paper; poor Eddie was still attached to his pulley, although he was propped up with half-a-dozen pillows and was again busy with his puzzle book.

There was a bottle of stout with lunch! I expressed my surprise, and the staff nurse said that it was to keep spirits up – apparently some study had shown that it had an effect in helping people recover more quickly. She joked that it made most of us men miss the pub, and become determined to get back to our boozing more quickly instead of hanging around in hospital being a nuisance. Well, I thought she was joking, anyway. It wasn't a bad roast lamb dinner (though nowhere near as good as one of Mum's), and the blackberry and apple crumble was okay. Then it was time to be tidied up, and at two o'clock the afternoon visitors were admitted.

I was a little surprised to see just my mother, but she explained that the others would be along later – Alastair had dropped her off and was taking Dad for a drive around the Clifton Downs, and Jen and Hamish were on their way, hoping to walk off one of Catriona's Sunday lunches.

She said how much she had enjoyed meeting Hamish's parents, and then looked strangely at me.

"Jon, your father and I are confused. Alastair Baxter keeps referring to Sheila as your girlfriend. You haven't broken up with Julie, have you?"

I could feel myself blushing, but knew that I had to come clean.

"Oh, no, Mum, of course not. It's a bit complicated. Adrian and Sheila don't want to get into serious relationships until they have finished their medical training, but for certain events here, like the Medical School formal dinners, they are expected to produce a regular partner. They invited Julie and I to the first dinner, you know, the one when we met Hamish, as a thank-you for helping them with decorating their flat, and we all had such a good time that we agreed to be the 'official' boyfriend and girlfriend for any more University events. That's why he thinks Sheila and I are together; I suppose we know him well enough now to explain what's happening, but it's been easier to let it run."

"Oh, I AM glad! Julie is a really lovely girl – as is Sheila for that matter – and I think she's just right for you."

"So do I, Mum, I hope she'll marry me once I'm earning enough to support us both."

"Have you told her that?"

"Yes, only every day for the last year or so! But she'll have trouble getting a first job if people think she's going to get married immediately, so we've agreed to be engaged to be engaged!"

"Oh yes, of course, you've mentioned that. I think that's sensible; there's no point in her working hard for her degree if she then runs into some old fogie who won't employ her because he thinks with a ring on her finger she should be at home with her children!"

"Exactly!

Jen and Hamish arrived in time to save me from any further awkward questions, and we all chatted easily until Julie and Adrian arrived. They only stayed a few minutes, the five of them intending to walk back to Clifton together, and hoping to get there before dusk. I persuaded Julie to go back to Cardiff; she reluctantly agreed, and said that she would 'phone Sheila every evening to find out how I was. I was very touched that she wanted to be near me – she said that I'd have behaved the same way, which was true – but she was sensible enough to know that there was nothing she could do.

I had no visitors on the Sunday evening, which I didn't mind. Maf's wife didn't show either; he said that he was happier without her venturing out on a dark winter night. We chatted; I happened to mention that I'd been home a fortnight earlier for Remembrance Sunday, and he told me that two of his brothers had been killed in the Great War.

"I wasn't quite old enough to get to the front before the Armistice; you can tell from my moniker that I was born in the summer of 1900 just after the news came through from South Africa; I was the ninth child and the fifth son. I joined up as soon as I was eighteen – Ma had lost Albert and Harold by then, and Frederick and George were both in France, so she wouldn't sign the papers and let me go any earlier. And of course, by the time I'd finished my training it was October and the war was almost over, so I never got out of England. I can't say that I regret it now, though I was upset at the time; my surviving brothers were never quite the same after they came back. I trained as an electrician, and joined the Air Force in World War Two, Bomber Command, – and although I never really knew any of the pilots, it was pretty upsetting to see so many aircraft and their crews fail to return. But that was the price we had to pay to defeat Hitler."

We were both quiet for a while. I thought again that, even with all the Cold War sabre-rattling, I was still lucky to live in the most peaceful period for a hundred years.

I asked Maf about his predictions for the forthcoming Test series in Australia – that was a much more cheerful subject, and had several other people chipping in with their pennyworths. All agreed that on paper we were sending a strong team which should retain the Ashes, although there were concerns about the omissions of Geoffrey Boycott, John Snow and Colin Cowdrey.

I was ready for some sleep when the milky drink came round; I reckon that my eyes were shut before the main ward lights went out.

Monday morning was notable (at least as far as the nurses were concerned) because I had my first bowel movement since the operation. The staff nurse asked several embarrassing questions about my 'stools', inspected my wound, and then expressed her satisfaction. Luckily she was older than my mother – if it had been one of the young student nurses, I'd probably have popped my clogs out of sheer embarrassment.

Mr Garthwaite came to see me shortly after the orthopaedic consultants had done their ward round, he too made happy noises once he'd checked his handiwork, and said that as far as he was concerned, I could be released the next day.

It being a normal weekday, a trolley from the hospital 'League of Friends' shop came round before lunch, so I bought a couple of Mars Bars to keep the wolf from the door. There was cottage pie for lunch, followed by tinned fruit salad, so I ate one of my chocolate bars as an extra dessert.

Sheila nipped onto the ward to see me that afternoon, when I was sitting on my own in the non-smoking day lounge (the smoking one being packed out), reading the second paperback that her brother had lent me. I felt a great deal better now that the last of the anaesthetic had worn off, and I was keen to be up and about. Just before lunch, a physiotherapist had spent a short time walking me up and down the ward, and had seemed pleased with my easy movement and lack of pain.

I gave Sheila a big smile as she bent over the side of the chair and gave me a kiss.

"I'm sorry to have been so much trouble, darling!"

"Don't be so silly – I'm just so relieved that we realised what the problem was so quickly, and that you're making such a great recovery."