At the end of Part 3, I told of how my training was about to begin and where, as well as mentioning my bold plan to escape from Ward life and head not for the open road, but for the Operating Theatre.
.........................................
Let's start with my attempt to move onwards and upwards (literally I mean, as the Theatre was on the first floor of one of the two main Hospital blocks, directly above the Casualty Department.) I requested an interview with the Company Commander so that I could explain to him that I had joined up to become an Operating Theatre Technician and not a nurse. This view I was hoping to explain to him, was shared by the recruitment team in Oxford where I signed on.Unbeknownst to me, in Tidworth at least, it had been decided that it was neccessary to qualify as an Army Male Nurse Class Two before entering OTT training. (For the Q.A.R.A.N.C it was simply Army Nurse Class Two.) This level was higher than the State Enrolled Nurse level in civie street. Unfortunately, whereas the QA's were allowed to sit the SEN exam, we potential OTT's (pot otts as we were called) were not allowed to do so. So, with the word of the Company Commander appearing to be law, I stayed put on the ward.
Surgical Ward Two, better known as Delhi Hut, had become my home from home. Just like any other surgical ward it had a number of ante-rooms prior to reaching the office. There was the staff changing room, Dressing Room for changing post-op dressings, a kitchen, an equipment room for storage of brooms etc., a couple of bathrooms and..............THE SLUICE!!! This was to be my "home within a home" for what seemed to me at that time, to be a lifetime without hope!
To put things in perspective, the Royal Army Medical Corps and the Queen Alexander's Royal Army Nursing Corps, no doubt driven by the memory of Florence Nightingale and her stirling works in the field of reducing wound infections on the battlefield, held the view that "Cleanliness is next to Godliness." To this end, training began with the basics-cleaning, cleaning, cleaning! It is perhaps useful at this point to note the staff mix on the ward compared with what you would find on a ward these days. The hierarchy was: Ward Sister(s), Senior NCO's both RAMC and QARANC who were qualified State Registered Nurse and State Enrolled Nurse levels, Junior NCO's similarly qualified, trainee nursing staff and as yet, unqualified Trainees. There were no contract cleaners so this duty fell to nursing staff or more correctly, to trainees and the more junior qualified staff.
I won't describe in too much detail what each minute of each day consisted of. Essentially, my training taught me how to make a stainless steel bedpan shine like a mirror, how to make a glass urinal look as though it never seen a drop of pee and to polish lovingly the stainless steel facia of the bedpan washer. (The damned thing never worked despite the attentions of the finest technicians the army could send to explore its inner workings.) One thing is certain, its inner workings never experienced the delights of disposing of the end result of a spectacular bowel movement from a bed-bound sqauddie nor even a single drop of urine. To be fair, this actually helped a little with some of my training.
After a couple of weeks showing my leaders that I had taken on board the catch phrase from the old Sketchleys advert "We know the meaning of cleaning" and was suitable for a promotion, I moved on to testing poo and wee. Many an unhappy hour was spent ferreting through piles of this and litres of that, checking for such things as thread worms, blood specks and fatty deposits in the solids and checking for ketones neg-ketones plus-ketones plus plus, sugar and blood in the no longer wanted body fluids.
Mixed in with all this fun on the ward were days of training in the Nurse Tutors Department. I'm not sure I should be admitting this, but after a while I became more and more happy with the way my life was going. I was enjoying learning-I had moved on from being an ex-village idiot from the wilds of Buckinghamshire-to being someone who realised there was a little more than sawdust packed between my ears. When I passed my first ever nursing examination-Army Nurse Class Three, I was over the moon.( My previous "high" had come when I passed my Army Swimming Test!!)
It was of course a very simple beginning but to me it was the start of a new career. I wanted to be a NURSE! Back on the ward, another promotion. I was allowed to shadow a trained nurse, after the basic daily ward cleaning had been completed that is. This included pulling the beds away from one side of the ward, sweeping and the polishing the floor with a hand held "bumper." One side done-then on to the other. Finally, the middle of the floor.
My first ever hands-on role on the ward was bed bathing. Some patients were on traction in an effort to resolve P.I D. (prolapsed intravertabral disc) issues. The Traction was applied to one or other leg and in some cases both legs, via strapping being applied from mid-thigh point on both inside and outside of the leg. This extended to below the sole of the foot where a wooden "spreader" was placed. To this spreader was attached a length of traction cord. This in turn was fed over a pulley wheel and tied to a tin containing lead shot. The weight of the tin would be "guessed" by the surgeon, in an effort to extend the spine of the patient and in turn relieve the pressure on the prolapsed disc.To help it, the foot of the bed was raised on bed blocks, at a height of approximately 8-10 inches and the patient was made to lay on fracture boards. The patient was then not allowed to lie in any other position than on his back for the duration of the treatment. Believe me when I say that I have seen even the hairiest, bravest, most threatening and ugly of men reduced to tears by this treatment!! The first 24 hours? No probs-after that though the pain would kick in. These guys were never keen on being "bathed" so to speak, by another male. I have to point out right here and now, each man washed his own "1 percent." If you know anything about assessing burns you will know what I mean.
Allied to bed bathing was treating pressure areas on this type of patient. Back of the shoulders, sacral area, elbows and heels were the main pressure points. Our training taught us to wash and massage each area, dry carefully and apply talcum powder, this would take place twice daily or even three times daily for the longer term bed-ridden patient. I can proudly say that in the whole of my service in the RAMC never heard of a patient treated in an Army hospital developing bed sores. It was a matter of pride that made the army nurse carry out their duties carefully and responsibly. I did however see patients being transferred in with them from NHS wards.
I believed then, and I believe to this very day that training in Army hospitals in basic but essential patitient care was second to none. There were however, a few moments in my early days as a trainee nurse where you might question that statement. My training helped me develop skills in one area, but still left me unprepared for my coming face to face with experienced soldiers who took advantage of kids like me, as I still was. I was conned so many times I lost count. More of that in Part Five.
.........................................
Let's start with my attempt to move onwards and upwards (literally I mean, as the Theatre was on the first floor of one of the two main Hospital blocks, directly above the Casualty Department.) I requested an interview with the Company Commander so that I could explain to him that I had joined up to become an Operating Theatre Technician and not a nurse. This view I was hoping to explain to him, was shared by the recruitment team in Oxford where I signed on.Unbeknownst to me, in Tidworth at least, it had been decided that it was neccessary to qualify as an Army Male Nurse Class Two before entering OTT training. (For the Q.A.R.A.N.C it was simply Army Nurse Class Two.) This level was higher than the State Enrolled Nurse level in civie street. Unfortunately, whereas the QA's were allowed to sit the SEN exam, we potential OTT's (pot otts as we were called) were not allowed to do so. So, with the word of the Company Commander appearing to be law, I stayed put on the ward.
Surgical Ward Two, better known as Delhi Hut, had become my home from home. Just like any other surgical ward it had a number of ante-rooms prior to reaching the office. There was the staff changing room, Dressing Room for changing post-op dressings, a kitchen, an equipment room for storage of brooms etc., a couple of bathrooms and..............THE SLUICE!!! This was to be my "home within a home" for what seemed to me at that time, to be a lifetime without hope!
To put things in perspective, the Royal Army Medical Corps and the Queen Alexander's Royal Army Nursing Corps, no doubt driven by the memory of Florence Nightingale and her stirling works in the field of reducing wound infections on the battlefield, held the view that "Cleanliness is next to Godliness." To this end, training began with the basics-cleaning, cleaning, cleaning! It is perhaps useful at this point to note the staff mix on the ward compared with what you would find on a ward these days. The hierarchy was: Ward Sister(s), Senior NCO's both RAMC and QARANC who were qualified State Registered Nurse and State Enrolled Nurse levels, Junior NCO's similarly qualified, trainee nursing staff and as yet, unqualified Trainees. There were no contract cleaners so this duty fell to nursing staff or more correctly, to trainees and the more junior qualified staff.
I won't describe in too much detail what each minute of each day consisted of. Essentially, my training taught me how to make a stainless steel bedpan shine like a mirror, how to make a glass urinal look as though it never seen a drop of pee and to polish lovingly the stainless steel facia of the bedpan washer. (The damned thing never worked despite the attentions of the finest technicians the army could send to explore its inner workings.) One thing is certain, its inner workings never experienced the delights of disposing of the end result of a spectacular bowel movement from a bed-bound sqauddie nor even a single drop of urine. To be fair, this actually helped a little with some of my training.
After a couple of weeks showing my leaders that I had taken on board the catch phrase from the old Sketchleys advert "We know the meaning of cleaning" and was suitable for a promotion, I moved on to testing poo and wee. Many an unhappy hour was spent ferreting through piles of this and litres of that, checking for such things as thread worms, blood specks and fatty deposits in the solids and checking for ketones neg-ketones plus-ketones plus plus, sugar and blood in the no longer wanted body fluids.
Mixed in with all this fun on the ward were days of training in the Nurse Tutors Department. I'm not sure I should be admitting this, but after a while I became more and more happy with the way my life was going. I was enjoying learning-I had moved on from being an ex-village idiot from the wilds of Buckinghamshire-to being someone who realised there was a little more than sawdust packed between my ears. When I passed my first ever nursing examination-Army Nurse Class Three, I was over the moon.( My previous "high" had come when I passed my Army Swimming Test!!)
It was of course a very simple beginning but to me it was the start of a new career. I wanted to be a NURSE! Back on the ward, another promotion. I was allowed to shadow a trained nurse, after the basic daily ward cleaning had been completed that is. This included pulling the beds away from one side of the ward, sweeping and the polishing the floor with a hand held "bumper." One side done-then on to the other. Finally, the middle of the floor.
My first ever hands-on role on the ward was bed bathing. Some patients were on traction in an effort to resolve P.I D. (prolapsed intravertabral disc) issues. The Traction was applied to one or other leg and in some cases both legs, via strapping being applied from mid-thigh point on both inside and outside of the leg. This extended to below the sole of the foot where a wooden "spreader" was placed. To this spreader was attached a length of traction cord. This in turn was fed over a pulley wheel and tied to a tin containing lead shot. The weight of the tin would be "guessed" by the surgeon, in an effort to extend the spine of the patient and in turn relieve the pressure on the prolapsed disc.To help it, the foot of the bed was raised on bed blocks, at a height of approximately 8-10 inches and the patient was made to lay on fracture boards. The patient was then not allowed to lie in any other position than on his back for the duration of the treatment. Believe me when I say that I have seen even the hairiest, bravest, most threatening and ugly of men reduced to tears by this treatment!! The first 24 hours? No probs-after that though the pain would kick in. These guys were never keen on being "bathed" so to speak, by another male. I have to point out right here and now, each man washed his own "1 percent." If you know anything about assessing burns you will know what I mean.
Allied to bed bathing was treating pressure areas on this type of patient. Back of the shoulders, sacral area, elbows and heels were the main pressure points. Our training taught us to wash and massage each area, dry carefully and apply talcum powder, this would take place twice daily or even three times daily for the longer term bed-ridden patient. I can proudly say that in the whole of my service in the RAMC never heard of a patient treated in an Army hospital developing bed sores. It was a matter of pride that made the army nurse carry out their duties carefully and responsibly. I did however see patients being transferred in with them from NHS wards.
I believed then, and I believe to this very day that training in Army hospitals in basic but essential patitient care was second to none. There were however, a few moments in my early days as a trainee nurse where you might question that statement. My training helped me develop skills in one area, but still left me unprepared for my coming face to face with experienced soldiers who took advantage of kids like me, as I still was. I was conned so many times I lost count. More of that in Part Five.
Tony Henderson writes: Tidworth; Colchester; Catterick... the story was the same... thanks for revisiting, Peter!!
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