• crop3
    no-one should be lonely in our friendly town
  • crop5
    no-one should be lonely in our friendly town
  • 4
    no-one should be lonely in our friendly town
  • crop2
    no-one should be lonely in our friendly town
  • crop4
    no-one should be lonely in our friendly town
  • crop1
    no-one should be lonely in our friendly town

Hospitals

Hospitals - strange, alien places aren't they? I usually go to them when I visit people who have to stay there for treatment.  If you, like me, visit hospitals, does your visit go like this:

Struggle to find somewhere to park, hope I have the right change for the car park machine, walk past people enjoying the sunshine who are attached to drips, or look very ill indeed, sitting in wheelchairs (some of whom are smoking,) get confused at the number of entrances and length of corridors, use the hand sanitisers (hoping I dont lick my fingers before washing the gel off!), visit, leave, all the while relieved that its not me in there.

Yet, during each hour of every day stories of life and death, joy and sorrow are taking place under that one enormous roof.  I admire the staff who work there, whilst happy I was not called to the same job as them, but answer me this - why is it that once in there, people seem to lose a bit of themsleves, seem to become part of something alien and unfamiliar?  And it doesn't just happen to patients; why is it that I don't always seem to know what's acceptable when it comes to helping people in there?  Why don't I know whether, or not, to respond to the elderly lady in the opposite bed who is asking for help to sit up?  Yet if I saw that lady in the street needing help to get through a shop doorway, I wouldn't hesitate, I'd be there, opening the door, chatting with her, doing whatever I could to help.

On reflection, it seems to me that, as I visit my client/friend in this alien environment, the best thing I can do is be myself.  I need to bring a reminder that there is a world outside of the walls of the ward, encourage her to want to return to it and when I see someone in need, I simply need to be brave and do what is right.

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First blog...

Here we go, the first ever hope trust blog. There is so much to say, but where to begin, that’s the tricky bit.

Well let’s start with a question ’What do you think about when you see an older person at the till in front of you?’ Do you groan, hoping they move quickly, have their purse/wallet open, have enough dexterity to get their money out, don’t try and count out the right change, remember their pin number, and probably most of all, do not start talking to the cashier? Now let me stop you and ask you this. Imagine if that older person was someone you love – an elderly parent, grandfather, aunt or uncle – imagine they hadn’t spoken to anyone face to face for 3 days, that this is the only chance they will have to do that, now, is waiting 60 seconds longer in the queue such a big deal? Truthfully, it probably won’t make too much difference to you, but to that older person those extra seconds of someone’s time could make a world of difference.

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