A day with the out-patients of a hospital / Tilbury Fox.

  • Fox, William Tilbury, 1836-1879.
Date:
[1866]
Catalogue details

Licence: Public Domain Mark

Credit: A day with the out-patients of a hospital / Tilbury Fox. Source: Wellcome Collection.

Provider: This material has been provided by The Royal College of Surgeons of England. The original may be consulted at The Royal College of Surgeons of England.

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    >C r w gr*' 232 A DAY WITH THE OUT-PATIENTS [Good Words, April 2, 1SGC. And still clouding questions swarm Around our hearts, and dimly form' Their problems of the mist and. And still as ages fleet, but fj&ugjtt With syllables, whereby is N^rdtight The fullness o^therEtjernabthotigbt; And when not yet in God’s sunshine, -^he smoke drifts from the embattled line arring hearts that would be Thiue; (£i A DAY WITH TH| About a couple of months ago, in running bac by train to Town after a consultation, I chanced to get into a carriage containing, amongst others, one of those men to be met with in every grade of society, who are always complaining of their share of the “ ills that flesh is heir to,” who live in an atmosphere of gall and bitterness, and who never appear to absorb, or at any rate retain for any time, one single genial ray. They have, too, the unenviable faculty of hunting out, with peevish haste, some unsatisfactory state of child or wife, until at last, by force of habit, microscopic fancies become positive creations. If you reason with such men, they will, hesitatingly, admit that a principle of compensation is at work to some extent, in the existence of many blessings ; but such is the power of the demon Discontent, that they very speedily lapse into the old grumbling mood again. The ! character of our fellow-traveller was detected in this wise : a gentleman sitting next to us had asked for his neighbour’s family. He did this, we pre- sume, from sheer politeness, and with an evident dread of consequences; for the malcontent on entering had loudly complained of the stuffy car- riage, the damp seats, and the horrid weather ; and only needed the key-note to be sounded, when pell- mell and glibly there slipped out a host of grievances. To the rescue came a grey-headed gentleman—one whom ladies would call a dear old man. With peculiar coolness he recounted the simple tale of a thrice-performed horrible operation he had under- gone, with an addendum of “ Thank God, I believe I’m much better for it.” For the nonce, my dis- contented friend was forced to admit that some of his fellow-men were worse off than himself; but whether the stern fact -worked any lasting change in his feeling, I know not. A few days after this occurrence, a friend just starting on a tour called, and asked me to take charge of the out-patients of one of the hospitals for a month. It soon occurred to me, that I could thus become acquainted with a class of the com- munity of which the public knows but little, —the poor folk who attend the out-patient departments of our large hospitals, and that I might also be able to give information regarding them which would deserve the appellation of truthful, and be free from personal prejudice. In contrast to the case of my grumbling friend, there is an utter want e<b^l our doubts and passions cease, Ouif restless fears be still’d with these— Counsellor, Father, Prince of/Peace ! . j [ENTS OF A HOSPITAL. compensation in the great majority of deserving cases. Theirs is a scant existence without comfort; disease and distress in all their varied forms go hand in hand. I will just outline my picture, and send my readers (and my discontented fellow- traveller could I but find him) away with a thank- ful realisation of their comparative happiness. Now it is a serious mistake, though it is one fre- quently made, to take what is known in regard to the condition of the m-patient, as a criterion of that of the ow£-patient. The former, if he chances to meet with a serious accident, or gets “knocked down” by an acute disease, is provided with most comfort- able quarters, good nursing, food in all quantity and kind he may require; in fact, finds a home probably far superior to what he has ever had before. Everything conducive to cleanliness and comfort is attended to. The chaplain pays visits and makes inquiries ; the lady visitors attend fre- quently, scanning each nook and corner with ap- proving eye and gesture; and on visiting days friends flock around his bed, and help to blunt the sharpest edge of misery and pain. But it is not so with the out-patients : they suffer from ailments almost but not quite incapacitating them, and the germs of these have been steadily growing for months and years. Ties of home, large families of little ones, and the like, stimulate these poor crea- tures to drudge along till within an inch of their lives. Their home is damp and cheerless, they have no nurse, bread and bread alone for food, and no word of comfort, but the harsh voice of Bumbledom —that guardian of starvation—looming in the dis- tance ; a weariness of spirit is stamped upon each feature, and besides this, there is a cultivated negation of pain. You will perhaps reply that improvidence and the “tippling” habits of the poor, have eaten up the “provision for another day. ” I deny that this is in any degree the average truth. The physician has the best opportunities of seeing | all grades of social life, and patients at the hospital ! as a rule come to him divested of all trickery. For | the most part they have a natural manner, and tell a plain tale which is borne out by every circum- stance. Indeed there can be no reason for decep- tion ; most of the cases show that when the food supply falls off, the enemy Disease stalks in at the door. Our clients shall speak for themselves.