Jane replies to Margaret's memories

Your memories really jogged mine, and here's what came out.

I do remember the radio – we used to listen to Children’s Hour and some of the radio requests programmes – maybe Workers’ Playtime? We’d shout at the radio to make it play the songs we wanted, and now and then the right one would come up – the most popular ones got repeated a lot! But we truly believed they could hear us at the other end, but either couldn’t or wouldn’t play “our” requests every time!

I was in a plaster bed too, and I remember we had to go and have new ones made every so often, because we were growing kids. They would slather on the plaster over bandages laid on my back – you're right, the slimy feel and the smell were awful. Then as the plaster dried and hardened, I remember how it shrank and you could feel it move. My TB was down towards the bottom of the spine, so I could at least move my head around, unlike you, Margaret. I often wondered how people like you managed to do everything in a mirror back to front.

It must have been fun learning to walk on the nurse’s feet – it’s something I’ve always done with small children, including my own, but I don’t remember a nurse doing it with me. Instead, I remember learning to walk between parallel bars, clinging on desperately while the physiotherapist called out “Heel, toe, heel, toe”, to stop me gingerly putting down a toe first. There was a full-length mirror to watch yourself, and I was shocked to see myself full length for the first time. What a disappointment! Once I’d learned to read, I identified with lots of different story characters – Snow White, Cinderella, kids at ballet schools, kids who rode horses – all beautiful and above all graceful - and I just imagined myself as them! In fact, like Margaret, I was a scrawny little 8-year-old, long and thin with knobbly knees like a foal’s – not a bit beautiful or graceful!

This all came back to me when I had a hip replacement in 1998 and learned to walk again for the third time in my life. Same story – a physiotherapist who knew how the walking ought to look, from the outside, but who was so fit and strong he couldn’t possibly have the first idea how it felt from inside! I’ve always been a bit self-conscious and analytical about the way I walked ever since.

Margaret Vicars, nee Rhodes, adds to her post on May 7th 2008

My Mother told me that she was always concerned how when I was wheeled out in the push-chair I used to hunch my shoulders & say “ooh my necky“, I would be about 3 years old at the time I think . ------In January 1941 15 months into the 2^nd world war I remember standing on our door step holding my mother’s hand while she held baby brother Colin in the other arm listening to anti-aircraft guns firing not far away from us, and ready to run across to our neighbours’ house where we all sheltered in the cellar. At this time my Mother decided she would take me to the Doctor’s to see what was wrong. She was told by the Doctor (whose name I do know) to “go home you are a fussy Mother“! so she decided to take me to the L.G. I (Leeds General Infirmary) to see Mr. Vineing the children’s specialist at the time, without a Doctor’s letter. People told her he would be angry and my Mum was very shy, but he wasn’t, he was very kind & understanding, and when she pulled my clothes over my head he rushed forward and took hold of my face and said “careful Mother you don’t know what pain this child is in”. Mum said he knew instantly what was ailing me. From this day I did not go home for 3 years and 9 months .

I was kept in the L.G.I. on the Margaret Rose ward for a few days and then moved to Boston Spa Hospital for a short while and then to MHMH at Thorpe Arch, where my parents were told the Doctors could not operate as I had T.B. abscesses on the 3^rd. 4^th. & 5^th vertebraes which was too near the brain for surgery. My parents were told the prognosis was not good and that I would either come out in a wheelchair or not at all. Apparently I screamed when they left me there ----Bless them they must have been devastated as unbeknown to me my lovely baby brother Colin died the following June 1941, 2 days short of his first birthday, from Meningitis.

Visiting hours at MHMH was only once every 2 weeks on a Saturday afternoon.

I had to lay flat on my back in a cast made of Plaster of Paris which smelled awful & felt awful as it was being slapped on my body, even my head, and ‘they’ had cut all my hair off and I looked like a boy. I had to lay on this plaster bed and also some iron things for my legs with supports to keep my feet up (which didn’t work) also a leather strap round my forehead. I learned to read and write etc. through a mirror suspended above my head.

Kindness from some of the nurses was in short supply, I would call them quite cruel at times. I remember once I could not wake up quickly enough for nurse Towers so she wheeled my bed into the x-ray room which was pitch dark and then was calling out to me that a “Bogey-Man “ was coming to get me. I was terrified. I would about 6 years old then.

We were pushed out on to the balcony in all weathers, even a howling gale. I cam remember us all laid there with the sheets tucked over our heads (shivering with cold I expect). Our parents were worried about the munitions being so close and we children used to wave to the pilots in their planes.

There are 2 foods I can not stand, one is spinach which I remember I could not eat so the nurse stood over me and made me swallow every mouthful. I hate the stuff. On another occasion it was tapioca pudding (dreadful), again the nurse stood over me while I swallowed every mouthful. Unfortunately for me it was always sleep time after lunch and I had not swallowed the last mouthful of tapioca and still had to swallow it. I vowed if I had children of my own I would not make them eat something they did not like.

I remember one time all the Mothers being really angry that we were not being given food that was being sent to us and as everything was on ration food was hard to come by. All the Mums got together and challenged Matron Downs - a strict disciplinarian - and she told them they should see her pantry, so she showed them all and my Mother told me it was stocked with all sorts of goodies , which I told Mum I do not remember much coming our way. Dr. Phillips & Mr. Payne used to make their rounds fairly regularly. Mr . Payne was a very bad tempered man but a brilliant surgeon.

One of the worst times of cruelty was when I was taken into the bathroom for what was like a bed-bath really. There were 2 nurses present and one had taken my gown off, Nurse Coleman was threatening to hit me with a broad strap across the front of my body because she said I had got pubic hair and at my age - about 7/8 - it was disgusting. I did not even know then what she was talking about, and I can see her and that strap as clear today as I could then. I think the other nurse must have stopped her, but I have never been so afraid of anyone in my life, I was frightened every time I saw her after that.

I remember Miss Fields the school teacher but only vaguely, but she was very prim I think but nice. I have a photograph of her.

After 3years and 9 months it was decided I could now get up and learn to walk again, which meant there would now be quite a bit of pain to cope with first as the supports that should have held my feet up did not work, and consequently my feet had fallen down and they had to be trained to stand up properly so I could put them flat to the floor. My nurse or probably the Physiotherapist I had to do the exercises with was lovely and very sympathetic. Her boyfriend was called Tommy and I used to call him “Tommy Tomato“ and he used to write lovely letters to me and always drew a big red Tomato at the end of them (I wish I had them now). I used to say to the lady if I wore shoes like Sister Morris (i.e. with a heel) it would not matter if my feet were not flat. Sister Morris was very stern but alright. When she left Sister “Lollipop “ came and she was lovely, always smiling, but I cannot remember her real name. Anyhow eventually my feet were in the right position and I could learn to walk again, which was done by a nurse (the 2 bad ones seemed to have gone then) whose feet I had to stand on and then she walked backwards. Clever I thought but it took some time.

After the first time I had been up and put back on the bed Delia Shaw in the next bed had dropped a book on the left side of her bed (which was on my left ) and I said to Delia “I will get it for you, I am a walking girl” , so I slid off the bed and I do not know how but I got to the locker and then to her bed down the right side and had just reached the bottom of Delia’s bed when Nurse Davidson came into the ward and shouted “Oh! Margaret Rhodes”, and ran down the ward scooped me up and popped me back on my bed (oh! And I did want to get that book). I explained what I was trying to do and she said I must not try getting out of bed on my own. Nurse Davidson was efficient but very nice. Nurse Nattrass was also very nice and always promising me a big parcel soon, which never came. Another lesson I learned - Never make a promise to a child if you are not going to keep it.

However the time came in September 1944 when I could go home and I remember a few of us girls were taken to the Vicar’s house for tea ---I can only remember it vaguely as a real treat and up until then I can not remember a Vicar being there.

A letter arrived at home in the morning post on 2^nd. September 1944 (visiting day) telling may parents to come and take me home that day, the first they had heard of my being able to come home, I did not even have any clothes ! ----- it was a very long walk to the railway station and I could still not walk so my Mother and Father had take turns carrying me, 8 years old and only 2 stone in weight, puny for an 8 year old but still heavy for them to carry, and I still looked like a boy, and wearing a horrible leather jacket from my waist to my chin. It used to stain my skin. I think I wore it for about 10 months when either Prof. Clark or Mr. Broomhead said “We can throw this away now”, and I believe my Mum said it was during the V.E. day celebrations in early May 1945.

There was one very special thing that in my young mind kept me going while in hospital, that was my baby brother Colin. I loved him dearly and longed to go home to see him again. I used to tell everyone about him -----so on arriving home when my Auntie Margaret walked through the door with her young son, I just said “Oh! Colin”, to which my Mum said “no love this is Auntie Margaret’s Frank”, and then she must have told me that Colin was dead and I do not remember what happened next -- all I know is that years later Mum said “I would never do that again“. I miss that dear little boy as much now as I did then.

I was talking to my husband one day recently about MHMH and said I will look on the internet and was very disappointed that there is no history of the hospital at all.

I have photographs of the hospital which I have yet to learn how to get on to the website and I can remember almost all the names of the other children.

Does anyone remember a Radio? There must have been one as I can remember at least one of the popular tunes of the day ‘Mairzy Dotes‘.

Jane 's comments and questions to Barry Blackburn

Glad you enjoyed writing this so much - it's great to read it and I hope you'll think of more.

* I was very interested to hear that you and your friend had gone to a school for Disabled Children. What kind of disability were you left with? I ask because I went to an ordinary primary school, in my spika – a sort of leather corset with steel reinforcements, which started under my arms, went down to my right thigh, and all the way down my left leg to the knee. I could walk around fine, but running was difficult, and if I fell over, which I remember doing from time to time, I couldn’t pick myself up and had to wait for someone to come and help me. Some of the other kids would stand over me and laugh, which was a bit miserable.

Once the spika was removed, I was always left with the feeling that I sat somewhere between being able-bodied and disabled. I could look like a fully able-bodied person, but because of my spinal fusion (lower back) I couldn’t bend so easily, found it difficult to sit cross-legged on the floor and get up quickly, couldn’t jump very well. Swimming turned out to be the answer to my prayers – something you could do with no danger of falling over, that still makes me feel wonderfully free

*Are there things you - or anyone else have found difficult?

* Are there also things you’ve got specially good at as a result of your patient experience? You mentioned your sense of being really lucky and of valuing the things you can do. For instance, I learned to read very early, and have always read a lot and lived in my imagination quite a good deal. So I’ went for a sedentary, bookish sort of career. At the same time, I love to travel, and have taken some quite adventurous journeys on my own in the course of my work – still do. I get a real kick out of the independence – though I also love to come back home.

*It’s very interesting, too, that you can remember so many names – one of the things that seems to be coming out of the blog is that most people can remember only a few. Could that be because you were older when you were a patient – some of us went in as quite small children (one was two, one was three, I was four…) and we were still quite small when we came out.

Barry Blackburn looks on his time at MHMH (1946-1948) with affection

I was very interested to read your letter in the YEP regarding the Marguerite Hepton Memorial Hospital at Thorpe Arch. I am not a computer man, so I thought I would write my “life story” and post it to you. I come from Bramley in Leeds and was 12 years old when I was admitted to hospital in August 1946 remaining until July 1948.

I often think about those days and how lucky I was (it was only my right ankle that was in plaster) as I could move about quite freely when my friends were restricted on frames etc.

That stay in hospital affected my whole attitude to life as having lived with other boys who were much worse off than me (in fact two died during my stay). I seldom complain about my ‘lot in life’. My medical records came in handy when National Service was due, as I was classed Grade 3 which was a failure in their system but a success for me, as I had just got married, passed my driving test and begun to earn good money. I always believed that my 2 years in hospital was a good training for life.

I have had no contact with anyone associated with the hospital since my best friend Ronnie Smith died in the early 1970s. We were in adjoining beds for 2 years and I was his best man when he got married. He named his son after me. Ronnie and I went to Potternewton School, Leeds, for handicapped children and we were founder members of the 19^th North Leeds Handicapped Scout Troup (happy days!).

I did an engineering apprenticeship training as a draftsman before joining ICI and moving to the North East as a project manager.

It may seem strange but I still look upon my time in hospital with affection and it left me with no fear of medical matters or hospitals, even though I had a heart attack in 1990 and a cardiac arrest in the USA in 2006. However, all is well at the moment and my wife Joan and I are celebrating 50 years of ‘wedded bliss’ next month.

I enclose a copy of a letter to the magazine Best of British when they were asking how the 1947 snow affected readers. My mother used to sit with a hot water bottle under her coat whilst begging me to put on a warmer jumper (we were tough!).

The worst thing was having to get washed on a cold morning in a bowl of lukewarm water. (Most of the time we didn’t).

Sorry to go on but I’m enjoying this! I remember the horse chestnut trees down the hospital drive and the tumbler pigeons in the dovecote. Miss Budd the teacher was great! I was given a bottle green cardigan to knit and after a year it was given to the girls’ ward – did you finish it? I do not think I ever saw a girl during the two years, never mind spoke to one.

It has been good to put pen to paper on our (Jane’s and mine) 60^th anniversary of leaving Thorpe Arch.

Here are some names I remember

Specialists Mr Broomhead, Mr Payne

Doctor Maloney

Sister Trout

Nurses Hodgson, Moss, Fowler, Natress

Fellow inmates Kenneth Inkpen, Terry Swift, Geoffrey Gresty, Cyril Gamble

Barry’s letter in Best of British

Getting cold feet

When the snow came in 1947, I was 12 and in the Marguerite Hepton Memorial Orthopaedic Hospital for Children at Thorpe Arch, Boston Spa, West Yorkshire, and we were virtually cut off. This did not cause me or my parents much of a problem, because visiting times were only two hours every first and third Saturday in the month.

Other weekends we received food parcels from home containing sweets and Wizard and Hotpure comics. Our teacher, Miss Budd, braved the journey from Walton village in her little Austin car she called Archie. She taught us everything from maths to knitting.

The main treatment in the hospital was ‘fresh air’ and we older boys slept outside the ward between April and October, under a ten-foot reinforced glass canopy. I woke up many times with frost on the foot of my bed.

Replies to my letter in Yorkshire Evening News

Hello again. I'm sorry the blog has been rather silent recently - the effects of my holiday, followed by rather a lot of work, which I had to get through before yielding to the temptations of the blog. This was specially frustrating, as I got back from holiday to find a whole lot of messages on the ansaphone, letter, and emails, in reply to a letter I sent to the Yorkshire Evening Post a while before going away on holiday. I got no reply and thought they just hadn't published it. I'm still following up the letters and phone calls, with some very interesting results to be shared. What I'll do now is put one up each day, trying more or less to keep to the order in which they came, for the sake of fairness. In the meantime, thanks to Barry Blackburn, Margaret Vicars, Andrea Kerr, and Norman Proctor for contacting me, and for interesting contributions.

Brian Skitt recalls his time in MHH from 1938 to 1942

My Name is Brian Skitt, born 24^th June 1936.

When I was two years old (about Sept 1938) I was diagnosed with TB of the spine and after spending a short time in Leeds General Infirmary for tests I was transferred to the Marguerite Hepton Hospital Thorp Arch. I remained in the hospital until October 1942 after a stay of 4 years.

The treatment for TB in those days was to lie perfectly still and be wheeled out onto the open fresh air in all weather conditions. To this end I was strapped to a frame to avoid body movement.

During the latter part of my stay I underwent lengthy surgery to remove the damaged part of the vertebrae and to undergo a lengthy process of bone grafting. I have a scar from between the shoulder blades to the base of the spine. The surgeon at Marguerite Hepton Hospital was Mr Payne (Broomhead & Payne at Leeds Infirmary).

In the wartime years it was very difficult to get to the hospital by public transport as Thorp Arch is in a remote area, there was full rationing and visitors were only allowed one a month.  My own mother had to get 3 buses to get to Boston Spa and then have a long walk to the hospital.   This was a period when many fathers were serving in the forces.

MH Hospital Layout

This layout is partly from memory but thanks to Cynthia for filling in some of the gaps. Click on the image for an enlargement.

Why can't we remember the names of other patients?

I thought I was odd because I couldn't remember the names of other patients who were in MHH with me, but I've begun to notice that I'm not alone - several bloggers have mentioned it, and I find it quite interesting. Because Ann Shaw has been running the Craig-y-Nos blog now for some years (see the link at the side) I mentioned it to her, and she has found that:

Not remembering names is very common. It is rare to come across anyone who can reel off names of people they knew in hospital as children. I had one the other day and I was amazed. She could remember 20 names of girls she was in with.

I think this must be part of how we children coped dealt with this whole experience. I think kids are amazingly resilient and tend to accept what they find as perfectly normal, but presumably when we came out of hospital, it would become clear that it was very different from the home world.
I mentioned Ann's view in an email a little while ago, and Harry made this very interesting comment, from Malcolm I think:

Ann is quite correct. I recall nothing of the other boys and although I can remember a few things some of the nureses did, this is because such acts were out of the norm. I remember absolutely nothing of what anyone looked like. In fact, as I said in an earlier email, whilst at MHMH I tried to run away with another boy and I cannot recall his name or even what he looked like. I believe that this is because each day and each month and each year was the same as the one before with nothing out of the ordinary to recall. Everything blurs in ones mind.. One does remember a few events out of the norm, or at least part of the event. I recall the erection of the dove cote. The bombs, my operation, and a few of the many visits my parents made but very little else.

Any other ideas? Did we just live an awful lot in our imaginations, then when reality got a bit more interesting just forgot all that, like a dream?

Cynthia remembers strict nursing, the verandah, and snow

Someone mentioned the authoritarian approach to care at the hospital and I appreciate just what they mean. It is so difficult to recall how different life was 50 or60 years ago for everyone. I suppose it was a hang on from the Victorian, Edwardian periods when everyone had their place and knew what was expected of them. As junior nurses, and remember we are talking in months, and at most a years difference in their length of training, if the 'senior nurse' said 'jump', we said 'how high?'.

On one occasion we arrived off duty in the sitting room to find notes on all the best chairs saying 'Reserved'. As it happened Matron Downs had followed us into the room and asked what all this was about. We explained that these were the senior nurses' seats. 'Nonsense' she shouted, and ripped up all the notes and left. We still knew not to sit on those seats or risk a 'cold bath' fully clothed in possibly our last clean uniform. Cold baths were the 'norm' for any nurse stepping out of line.
















Nurses on Ward 2 (Big Boys), left to right Rosie Ward, Dorothy Johnstone, ??, Christine English, and Val Tanner. There were nurses came from Rothwell hospital for some of their training I wonder if they will see the blog and join in.

Jock Corbett, the Nurse Tutor

Another person recalled sleeping under the verandah. This was the 'norm' for any bots on ward 2,(Large boys.)However they wore wind-jammers and balaclavas and were allowed hot water bottles.The staff had to make the beds on the verandah even when it was snowing and we were not allowed to wear cardigans. We were treated the same as the patients. I do not recall any member of staff going down with TB!

Does anyone remember when it snowed.The nurses would clear a path to the ward to help Joff get the meal trolleys in and the snow we cleared was used for snowball fights. The beds were covered with long mackintoshes and snow piled on the boys chests. They were supposed to wait for the signal to start but I believe that was just in theory. It certainly never happened in practice! When the battle was over the boys were taken into the wards for a bath and breakfast.

Big boys under the verandah, Ward 2

Harry remembers the dentistry, and Matron Downs

Your message brought back some memories.
I recall Matron Lodge although I had not remembered her name. I remember the nurses making sure that none of us boys made the slightest mess of our beds until she had done her morning round. I also have memories, now that you
mentioned it, of the dentist. I remember most vividly having an extraction and spitting blood and bits of tooth whilst bawling away. I must have been seven or eight at the time. Since that day I have been terrified of going to
the dentist, even when I knew that I had no dental problems and would not require any work done.

I was pleased to hear that perhaps Matron Downs may add to the blog as I was a patient when she took over. I wonder if she recalls the two boys that tried to run away. As it was a long time ago my memories of it are a little vague but I would love to hear an account of that day from one of the staff that was there that day.

More memories of late 1950s and photos from Cynthia

In one blog someone mentioned the hole in the plaster beds for toileting purposes. This reminded me of what was probably my first day at MHMH. I was doing a 'bottle' round on ward 2 (largies). when I got to one boy lying face down on a plaster bed. He informed me he needed help with his bottle: so red faced I grovelled under the bed clothes to offer the required help. To my frustration I could not find the appropriate appendage. By this time the whole of the ward was bursting with repressed laughter which exloded as an older nurse shouted down the ward for Richard to get back in place on his plaster bed at once and use the bottle himself as he was quite capable of doing. This apparently was his usual party piece for all new nurses.Needless to say he never did it twice to the same nurse!

Another thought I have was much later, when as theatre nurse I had to attend the dentist once a month when he made his rounds of the ward. I had to carry a hideous treadle machine to which the dentist applied his drills and brushes in order to 'treat' the patient.All I can remember is the dentist shouting,' Faster nurse, treadle harder!' I just hope that the treatment was de-scaling and cleaning and not for fillings! Poor children.

Here are some more photographs which may jog some memories. The first one is me (Cynthia) with an ex-patient on the playing fields where all the beds were pushed to for visiting time.

The second is an ex-patient with Zoe Weddall's rabbit Sandy,which as theatre nurse I had to groom and exercise daily.(As you would expect!).

Finally number three. Someone mentioned children having head bars when their disease was high in the spine and they could not be trusted to lie still! Poor little things. The girl on the right has one of these attachments.

As you can see she was a happy little thing and didn't seem unduly worried with the restriction. I did wonder if Yvonne may remember this girl as she was still at MHMH when I left in 1958 and as you can imagine had some time to go before discharge.

The Lost Children of Craig-y-Nos blog

I've added a link to the Lost Children of Craig-y-Nos blogspot, run by Ann Shaw, which has been running a while now, and from which I've had a lot of help. It has a similar purpose to ours, but deals with a rather different hospital, in a different social context. The blog also has a link to us. Well worth a visit.

Extract from Gerald Appleyard's book "Walton-in-Ainsty"

The following is an extract from Gerald Appleyard's book “Walton – in – Ainsty” and is reproduced with grateful thanks from the Marguerite Hepton Hospital Bloggers.

Mr Arthur FL Hepton Founder and Miss ME Downs Matron from September 1938

Between Walton and Thorp Arch was a pleasant country house owned by Mr Arthur FL Hepton, a Leeds and Harrogate businessman. Prior to its opening as a hospital for children on 16th April 1910 Mr Hepton’s daughter had a long illness. After her recovery, he gave the house and grounds to the Leeds Invalid Childrens Aid Society, in gratefulness for her complete recovery. A gesture which provided the inspiration for one of the districts prettiest hospital.

Marguerite Hepton later became its hospital secretary for many years and lived into her 90s at Harrogate.

Hydrotherapy pool 1981. Miss Patricia Sykes is in attendance

The hospital, with magnificent support from many societies in Leeds, and local groups of people, created funds for its development into an 80 bedded orthopaedic hospital. It had an operating, x-ray department,physiotherapy and hydrotherapy units, plus a small chapel where many babies were christened. The Leeds education department provided schooling for the long stay patients with a head teacher for each of the four wards.

The hospital was born in a spirit of thanksgiving. In one of her reports during the 1914-18 war Marguerite Hepton wrote “It is felt so important, this work requires more than patriotism or sense of public duty to make it successful. There must be a real love for the children themselves. True patience in dealing with them, and a fixed determination to let no consideration come before that of their true interest and progress.”

The hospital expanded and a further gift by Mr Hepton of £5000 in memory of his only son, who was killed two days before the end of the First World War allowed more development to take place, but in the 1920s the hospital incurred a debt of £3000. This was cleared in 1927, led by Mrs Enid Lane Fox of Walton and a great number of helpers who raised funds. The period between the wars saw many developments and the hospital went from strength to strength.

A new wing was built, known as the Riley Smith Wing by the brewery owners at Tadcaster.

The majority of children during this time suffered Tuberculosis of the bone. Later correction of limbs due to the devastating results of Poliomyelitis were operated on by Professor Clark. Some of the children were hospitalised for up to two years.

Gerry Appleyard 1985. Standing where the German bomb was dropped in 1942

During the 1939-45 war a munitions factory was built in front of the hospital which resulted in Wards 3 and 4 being built to get children under a more substantially protected building. The year 1940 and 42 saw bombs dropped on the munitions factory, in 1942, two German bombs were dropped one on the road in front and one behind the nurses home narrowly missing the buildings. Between these two bombs were 80 children and staff. At the close of the munitions factory at the end of the war, £1131 was raised for the hospital funds.

Charles and Diana wedding celebration 29/7/1981 (children no longer patients)

In 1980 all children were kept at St. James Hospital in Leeds and adult Orthopaedic cases were sent to Thorp Arch from Leeds General Infirmary and St. James Hospital until its closure as a hospital on September 16th 1985. It then became a private nursing home.

Billy Bremnar signing Plaster casts, Gerry Appleyard is at his side 13/7/1968

Many celebrities visited the Hospital during its 75 years. Princess Anne visited the children on May 11th 1972. Thorp Arch school children formed a guard of honour waving flags along the drive.

Gerald Appleyard was the hospital's last nursing officer.

Reply from Jane - we're all doing the history!

Hello Margaret,
This is the beginning of the history you wanted to see - and now you're part of it! I have a feeling you have a lot more to add.
Jane

Margaret Vicars, nee Rhodes remembers strict disiplinarians

I was in Marguerite Memorial Hosp. at Thorpe Arch from 1941 to 1944. I am also in touch with a friend who was in at the same time. Matron Downs was a very strict disciplinarian and some of the nurses could be very hard and two of them whose names I can remember were cruel, considering we were helpless children. I have photographs of the hospital and some of the patients. Felicity Lane Fox was the secretary when I was there and I have the letter to my parents telling them to come and take me home in Sept. 1944. I am disappointed to find there is no history of the hospital on the internet that I can find.
Margaret Vicars, nee Rhodes

ex-nurse Cynthia Coultas remembers changes in nursing and visiting

I worked at MHMH from November 1956 to May 1958 as near as I remember. At that time we still nursed many bovine TB cases on plaster beds and Jones abduction frames depending on whether spine or hip was involved, but we had no 'open' chest cases with positive sputum results etc. Many of the children by then were 'old polio' cases following the 1947 and '52 outbreaks and in need of corrective surgery. There were also cases of cerebral palsy, osteomyelitis, and congenital problems such as hydrocephalus and spina bifida.

The introduction of antibiotics had a miraculous effect on many infectious diseases. TB. of course responded so well to streptomycin and then the non antibiotic treatment with INAH and PAS. If you remember these you will know how unpleasant they tasted but thay saved so many lives and shortened the hospital stay for so many others. During my stay at MHMH Zoe Weddall was sister in charge of ward one girls ward as you know. She was also theatre sister and duputy Matron. I had the priviledge of working as her theatre nurse for six months before moving on to Pinderfields Hospital in Wakefield. I have recently made contact with Zoe again but only on the 'phone. She is now very elderly and frail. She has promised me the odd photo' if she can find any but she destroyed most of them when she moved to her present accommodation three years ago! How frustrating is that. She also has visits from the former sister Lodge from ward three small boys who married a vicar and is now Mrs Ibbotson. Sadly she is widowed. Do you remember her?

Visiting was still restricted to once a week during my time. I remember the large red buses wobbling down the drive and all the boys on the verandahs sending up a huge cheer.The nurses then had to set about pushing the children in their beds, a-topped with plaster beds or frames up to the playing field and the childrens park. Those who only wore calipers or had arms in plaster would come hurtling down the slide or being sick as they spun off the spider round about. Health and safety would have a fit today but I never remember any accidents. We nurses even took the more mobile children for walks in the village on the river bank!! Happy days.

I was still around when these were completely lifted to allow visiting at any time and as long as desired. This too created its own problems. Visitors turned up early morning with flasks and food and remained for hours!!!!! We thought it would wear off but unfortunately this was not the case and we had patients becoming constipated by trying not to have bed pans whilst visitors were present! I could go on but I think you get the picture!

A compromise was reached in most hospitals but how that works now I'm not at all sure, but nothing is ever simple. One family when I was at MHMH got round the visiting quietly by organising a scout group. They of course had weekly meetings and the parents were the leaders and so managed mid-week visiting as well as weekends. I have to say they had some very therapeutic activities and made blankets which were sold at the Summer Fete so it wasn't as selfish as might first appear. The revenue contributed towards extras for the hospital.

I wonder if anyone recognises himself from this photo of Miss Downs with the scout troupe?

Matron, Miss ME Downs, was in charge of the hospital when I was there. You would probably know her because according to some annual reports I've read she was there very early on and certainly took the home through the difficult period of change from a self-supporting project to the NHS.

[Note from Jane: Cynthia is also researching the history of the hospital]

01 May and 04 May

Malcolm was a patient with Perthes disease, 1959-60

I was a patient in the MHH from September 1959 to July 1960 (I was aged 9 at the time) with Perthes of the right hip. On reflection, and having read about other people’s lengthy stays in the hospital, I think I was rather fortunate. My hip problem was discovered in a moment of serendipity when I had x-rays for a stomach problem and the doctors noticed my Perthes. Up until that point I was totally unaware of it.

Some of my memories are quite specific and distinct but there are other things that I don’t remember at all. For instance I seem to have no recollection of the different wards and can only recall a couple of the other patients. Presumably this is because as we were confined to bed for the duration and so our horizons were limited, both physically and metaphorically.

My treatment consisted of being in traction the whole time, as opposed to a frame or having legs in splints. I had lengths of elastoplast attached to the inside and outside of each leg and at the bottom of each strip was a loop through which cord was passed. This cord then went through the bottom of the bed on pulleys and there were heavy weights attached to the end of it. How primitive that sounds now!

The staff I can remember were Sister Fidler (a very kind, reassuring lady), nurse Val Robson who I thought was wonderful and did so much to make my stay there as happy as possible, and other nurses Woodhead, Huddleston, and Rennie. I often wonder what happened to them all, especially nurse Robson. I used to have an autograph book which was signed by lots of the nurses, most of them putting in a little rhyme or saying, but this was lost many years ago which is a shame, particularly in the light of this research into the hospital. Looking back I think most of the nurses would have been aged about 17 (would that be right?).

Specific memories I have include:
- nights sleeping on the verandah
- film shows on the ward
- the open prison across the road – there was an occasional security alert when a prisoner absconded
- the nurses holding a dance in the hut on the other side of the drive
- a number of us boys having bows and arrows. We used to fire the arrows (which had rubber suckers on the end) at the ceiling (and occasionally at each other) on the ward and see how long they would stay up there. On visiting days my parents would wheel me up to the playing field where we could fire proper arrows much further, resulting in a lot of exercise for my dear old mum who had to retrieve them!
- visiting was at the weekend and on Wednesdays, I think.

I suspect I will remember more as other comments on the blog will act as a prompt, and as my mother is still alive I will ask her what she remembers.

Malcolm Benson
04 May 2008

Malcolm replies to Yvonne

Yvonne,
I visited the site two or three years ago and it was being turned into a housing estate. I felt quite sad when I saw that! I believe it was used as an old folks home after the hospital closed.

Malcolm

03 May 2008 11:32

Yvonne, patient in the 1960s, kept a pet rabbit on the verandah

I was transferred from St James Hospital Leeds to MH Hos around 1960 I would be about six years old then, I had an operation on my left hip cos I had osteomylitus. I was at MH Hos for about a year convalescing. I had a twin sister who they let in to see me but not very often, I really cannot recall much except that I learnt to walk again there. I can only recall kindness but I do remember having very long hair and much to my mothers dismay they cut it all off-she was mortified!. I recall being pushed out on my bed (I was on traction for 9 months) to the balcony for fresh air!!. I also had a pet rabbit while I was there and they allowed my brother to bring in a puppy he had bought for me!. I wish I remembered more like who the nurses were etc, but I have lost both parents now so cannot even jog their memories. I have a silver spoon awarded to me for the silver jubilee of the hospital and I also have an actual visitors pass that my parents used to use for admission to see me. All so long ago but quite an important time in my life! I have tried to see if any records exist so that I could find out the actual period I was there but don’t know where to look, I also tried to find out if the hospital was still there but again have drawn a blank-can you help?

I live in Egremont, Cumbria now but back then I lived in Armley Leeds.
Yvonne Farrer nee Galert.

Harry sparked off more memories for Jane

Your memories triggered off so many of my own, I think I need to do away and think about them.

I think you and I must have overlapped a little, if you were there 8 years from 1937 you must have left around 1945, and I went in in 1944. But if you were 10 when you left, and I was 4 when I entered, we may never have met, because I was in "small boys" at first - yes, boys and girls together, until we got to a certain age and were moved to girls only - can't think what age that would be, and you were in "boys". And of course we couldn't walk about and talk to people in other wards.

I had forgotten Mr Payne, for instance - though I remember his name now. I never saw it written down, and I also remember thinking of it as 'Pain' - he was the man who did operations and caused pain. Unfair really, he seems to have been a good surgeon. Can you remember what date you had the operation? Was it what they call a spinal fusion, where they take away the diseased part of the spine, and graft two vertebrae together to make one? That's the kind of operation I had, which is why I always was a little less 'bendy' than the people I went to school with.

When I left the hospital, I had to wear a kind of leather and steel corset, called a 'spika', encasing all of my torso and part of my left leg to just above the knee. I started going to school with this on. It made life quite difficult, especially if I fell over, as I couldn't bend enough to pick myself up, and had to lie there and wait for help. Some kids were pretty mean and used to just stand there laughing. Not a good memory.