"IN WHAT DIVERSE PAINS"

New Zealand Listener, Volume 9, Issue 214, 30 July 1943, Page 6

"IN WHAT DIVERSE PAINS"

| (Written for "The Listener" by

ALFRED ST.

GEORGE

find much to interest them at the Out-Patients’ Department of any big hospital. Hundreds daily attend there with anything from a sore finger to a broken heart, for the shortage of private doctors and lack of hospital accommodation have greatly increased the already large number of outpatients. You may meet anyone at "Qut-patients" from a university professor to a street sweeper. Yet in spite of the social barriers, a friendly spirit exists among all the patients, Truly, as Garrick says, "a fellow feeling makes one wondrous kind." G uch of human nature will And the stories you hear! Stories of serious operations performed under the most hazardous conditions, stories of miraculous recoveries, stories of triumphs over adversity, stories of people who have been crossed in love; even stories of complicity in crime: al] these and more, are poured into your credulous ears by your fellow patients, And, strangely enough, the most inoffensive looking person tells the most incredible story. It’s human nature, I suppose, Es wt *

Y far the busiest and most interesting day at the Wellington Hospital is Monday. From 8.30 a.m. until late in the afternoon, doctors, nurses, and clerical staff are going "eyes out." Men who on Saturday’ have been drinking the waters of forgetfulness, or who have been fighting, ~youths who have been playing over-strenuous games of football, form the greater part of Monday morning’s callers. Then the department may be turned into a confessional box. "You know," confides the raggedlooking individual next to you with a bandage over his eye, "I ’ad a foight on Sat’dy night. ‘E," pointing his thumb over his shoulder at some mythical being, "storted it. Still, I’m sorry now." Some tell stories of rows with the "old woman." "I clouted ’er ’ard, I did. You'd done the same thing, too, y’know." But he looks as if she clouted hard, too, You agree, cautiously. Yes, stories demoralising or otherwise: stories of human perfidy, stupidity and cupidity; you get them all on Monday mornigg. % * * 2OR some weeks now I have been attending as an out-patient. My first appointment was for 9,0 a.m, Arriving at 8.45, I was more than surprised to find that already a large number were waiting. T took my place in a seemingly endless queue. Half an hour later (according to my watch!) I>was at the counter, © "Have you ever been an out-patient before?" asked one of the clerks, I confessed I had not. "Then join the other queue," she said, "and fill in-your form." And so I started once again. Truly, I | thought, patience is a virtue! An hour later, I had-taken my place to see the

doctor. As you report, your dossier is sent to the doctor concerned, So it is wise, as the picture-houses tell us "to get in early." But with all these delays and vexations, you are amazed at the efficiency (and patience) of the staff; from the women who run the canteen, to the nurses and doctors, whose cheerfulness is in itself a tonic and an inspiration. You find yourself adapting the hymn you used to sing: Oh in what diverse pains they met Oh with what joy they went away!