Early Hospital Experiences

or

Those were the days, my friends

My earliest memories are of being in hospital.  I spent a lot of time there as a young child due to developmental acetabular dysplasia i.e. born with dislocated or 'click' hips.  These early memeories aren't unpleasant.  Every time someone came to visit me, they brought me a present.  This was mainly in the evening.

I rarely had visitors in the afternoon as my parents and other potential visitors worked.  I didn't mind (parents of young, sick children, take note) I didn't expect visitors, but when my Gran used her bus pass to make the trip to Dublin, it was an unexpected bonus.  I still remember one particular occassion when she brought me a packet of Jelly Tots.  I was young enough to still be in a cot, located on this occassion in the far corner of the ward, and I gleefully ripped open the packet and spilt them over the bed, setting up a game of Hide and Seek.  You become quite imaginative in your games when you're confined to bed!

There were unpleasant times of course.  I hated being on traction, forced to stay on my back for months, but it did leave me with the enviable skill of being able to eat and drink whilst lying flat on my back - a skill that would come in handy years later.

I still hate blood tests and injections.  My veins don't like them either.  For some reason, they hide whenever a needle comes into view.  I remember one time, I was in the bed beside the door and jerked as they were taking blood.  It got on the sheets and the Ward Nurse said I was to be left in the bloody sheets to be taught her lesson.  To my young eyes, the sheets were soaked in blood, but it was probably just a few drops.  I had nightmares for a long time after that.  That ward nurse was scary but the Sister was kindly.

The Adelaide was my home and at that time Jacob's Factory was still across the road from it.  We could look out the windows in the Children's Ward to watch out for the broken biscuits being sent over for our Tea.  Not that they like giving tea to the children.  I was the exception.  I horrified the nurses by asking for coffee at the tender age of 2 or 3 (blame my Gran), so tea was a compromise.

This was also the time of my first boyfriend, Jerome, an 'older man' by 3 years with similar issues to me but more complications.  I spent many a happy hour in his bed - playing with lego.  I was only a toddler!

Nights weren't too bad either.  There was a blue hue off the night lights and there was always a nurse at the desk in the corner with one of those bendy lamps.  I wasn't a good sleeper even back then, but I always found comfort and reassurance, glancing over to the nurse in the corner.

I got out of hospital around the time Elvis died.  I distinctly remember it being discussed on the radio and mistakenly thought he was King of Ireland.  Just a few days later I started Junior Infants, being carried as my legs still weren't strong enough for the stairs.  From one strange world to another!  Looking back at this time through adult eyes, it may seem very traumatic and even distressing to parents of young children.  For me, it was all I knew.  It was normal.  I couldn't imagine my pre-school years any other way.