Tag Archives: patient
Charlie Chaplain’s Tales
Without sounding flippant, one of our mental health patients, who was extremely bright and clever, asked me, in my role of Healthcare Chaplain, to baptise him. We talked about this for several weeks, explaining the importance and the implications.
We came to the “big day” and I administered the Sacrament, after which I started to say the Aaronic Blessing – “The Lord bless you and keep you” – immediately to be interrupted by the newly baptised: “I bloody well hope so!”
The phone rang at the Nurses’ Station.
A little old lady spoke quietly and somewhat reticently: “I’m so sorry to bother you, but could you possibly tell me how Miss Mary Wilson is getting on? She’s in room 7”
“Well, she’s doing just splendidly. In fact, she’s going to be discharged tomorrow afternoon, and a care package has been arranged for her.”
“Oh, thank you very much, indeed; that’s wonderful news”
“Excuse me, I forgot to ask who was calling”
“Oh sorry, it’s Miss Wilson phoning from room 7 – nobody here tells me a F*****g thing!”
Charlie Chaplain’s Tales
I once came across a patient in the Infirmary who was obviously in great discomfort and pain.
He said that he had been in a dreadful accident at work and that his “scrotum” was badly crushed.
Continuing, he told me that the surgeons had performed a delicate and intricate operation. Amazingly, they were able to piece together the crushed remnants of his scrotum and wrap wire around it to hold it in place.
The doctors were pleased with the operation and had said , with time, he should recover completely.”
I wished him well but couldn’t help wincing at the terrible ordeal that he had undergone…… so I said to one of the Staff Nurses on my way out of the Ward, “That poor guy, getting his testicles crushed like that”
“Yeh, his scrotum I mean”
“Scrotum? He’s in with a crushed sternum!”
What do we see, you ask, what do we see?
Yes, we are thinking when looking at thee!
We may seem to be hard when we hurry and fuss,
But there’s many of you, and too few of us.
We would like far more time to sit by you and talk,
To bath you and feed you and help you to walk.
To hear of your lives and the things you have
Your childhood, your husband, your daughter, and
But time is against us, there’s too much to do –
Patients too many, and nurses too few.
We grieve when we see you so sad and alone,
With nobody near you, no friends of your own.
We feel all your pain, and know of your fear
That nobody cares now your end is so near.
But nurses are people with feelings as well,
And when we’re together you’ll often hear tell
Of the dearest old Gran in the very end bed,
And the lovely old Dad, and the things that he
We speak with compassion and love, and feel sad
When we think of your lives and the joy that
When the time has arrived for you to depart,
You leave us behind with an ache in our heart.
When you sleep the long sleep, no more worry or
There are other old people, and we must be there.
So please understand if we hurry and fuss –
There are many of you, and too few of us.
An American guy suffered a serious heart attack and had an open heart bypass surgery. He awakened from the surgery to find himself in the care of nuns at a Catholic Hospital.
As he was recovering, a nun asked him questions regarding how he was going to pay for his treatment. She asked if he had health insurance.
He replied, in a raspy voice, “No health insurance.”
The nun asked if he had money in the bank. He replied, “No money in the bank.”
The nun asked, “Do you have a relative who could help you?”
He said, “I only have a spinster sister, who is a nun.”
The nun became agitated and announced loudly, “Nuns are not spinsters! Nuns are married to God.”
The patient replied, “Send the bill to my Brother-in-law.”
I’m reminded of a young man who was a member of one of my congregations. He had severe leukaemia and was hospitalised in a small room in a hospital ward – in isolation – at the Western General in Edinburgh. There was a small window in that room that had a magnificent view of the City sweeping upwards toward the Castle in the distance.
He was a keen artist, and had his materials brought in. He didn’t sketch or paint pictures of despair or anger at his medical condition; rather he depicted the wonderful scene and glorious landscape that he could see from the window of his “cell” but which he would never again experience in person.