How well I remember my first sight of Marilyn, wearing her pristine pink overall as she bent over the deep ward kitchen sink; arms and elbows deep in soap suds. Never was the phrase ‘they have a face as if they are chewing a wasp’ more appropriate; indeed she looked as if she had not only chewed the wasp but given it a kicking for good measure.
Marilyn was the ward orderly in the small hospital in which I worked in 1987. To say she ruled the ward with a rod of iron was an understatement. Her cries of ‘you ger off my floor’ rang out on a regular basis. It was generally agreed that she’d not been named after the voluptuous Marilyn Monroe but after the infamous rock singer Marilyn Manson.
Well known throughout the hospital, the consultants and nurses feared her in equal measure. Many a time I would witness a doctor nervously asking permission to walk across her newly moped floor. The request was inevitably met with an icy glare and a barked order to ‘go round the edge.’
Marilyn’s duties, which she fulfilled with diligence and determination, consisted of keeping the ward and the patient’s lockers clean and tidy. Pity the poor patient who dared to have more than one get well card on display. Surplus cards were unceremoniously swept into a drawer with the words ‘dust gathers’ muttered pointedly.
Flowers suffered a similar fate being removed and placed on a nearby window ledge. If challenged Marilyn would simply respond with the words ‘Health and Safety’ although what specific legislation this related to was never made clear and no one was brave enough to ask.
Marilyn also served meals and policed portions in her own random manner. Many a lippy young lad would find himself with a meal more appropriate for a five year old and Lord help anyone who requested more; Charles Dickens’ Beadle would have been proud of her.
The meals came up from the kitchen in large metal trays and it was sometimes difficult to identify what specifically was being served. On one occasion patients tucked into chips, beans and an egg custard tart!
Marilyn had mixed up the tart with an admittedly similar looking cheese and onion flan. Interestingly no one complained – well they wouldn’t dare.
Marilyn was very proud and regimented in her work. The ward was immaculate, meals were given out efficiently, dishes cleared and washed promptly and the kitchen left spotless within an hour. Cloths and tea towels were boiled in a pan kept especially for this task on the ancient stove. You could always tell when Marilyn was on holiday, her substitute being no match for her high standards.
It would however be unfair to say that Marilyn didn’t have a sense of humour; and she could certainly take a joke. There was the time we placed a glass artificial eye in the bottom of a tea cup to greet her in the morning and the occasion when her mop disappeared to be found later in a bed complete with a surgical gown, hat and eye patch. Although she would never admit it, I believe that secretly she liked the attention the ward banter provided and she had a soft spot for those who singled her out for a joke.
Marilyn had worked on the ward for as long as anyone could remember; she was part of the fabric of the place. There was a rumour she’d been present at the laying of the foundation stone some 100 years earlier!
A spinster, she had grown up in hard times in post war Liverpool when rationing had been in place and bomb sites still visible. Although she rarely talked of her private life she indicated there had been loves and losses; even an engagement that had ended badly.
The ward was her family and its patients her children; she cared for both without sentiment or show of emotion.
She recognised the old chap who needed to chat, gave extra portions to those who looked as if they needed feeding up and she shared a joke and banter with the young lads, sensing their fear and anxiety.
When it came to the staff, Marilyn either loved you or hated you. Those she loved would get a whispered ‘there’s a milky coffee in the kitchen’, those she hated just got a cold shoulder. Doctors received the same treatment as we mere mortals; Marilyn was all for equality, everyone was an inconvenience. Occasionally raised voices could be heard emanating from the kitchen if a patient or relative or indeed a naive member of staff had dared to cross the threshold. I believe that had she been permitted to have a pit bull terrier patrolling the door she would have.
Marilyn was of her time and place and it was clear when we moved to a large teaching hospital in the 1990s she wouldn’t survive, unable to cope with the regime and supervision. The kitchen was no longer her domain being shared with a neighbouring ward and cleaning duties fell to other staff. Stripped of her key role in the life of the ward she retired. Although attempts were made by some to keep in touch she slowly disappeared into the ether. Like many women who devoted their lives to the NHS diligently doing their duty over many years she became just a memory.
Years later, a colleague and I attended her funeral. In a church with approximately thirty people, we listened as the priest extolled the virtues of this pious church going lady, loved by neighbours and nieces alike. At one point we thought we were at the wrong funeral but no. It seems that Marilyn had a soft, gentle, generous side reserved for those who knew her best. Perhaps we were wrong and she was named after Miss Monroe after all?
I still think of her now and again in the great kitchen in the sky, elbows
deep in the suds, towels and tea towels spotless, daring St Peter to walk on her floor.
So R I P Marilyn and all the other ‘Marilyn’s’ who have served the NHS so well.
Thought for the day
‘Work is always so much more fun than fun’ Noel Coward 1899 – 1973
This story, highly recommended in the NHS Retirement Fellowship short story competition, was written by Marie Dewhurst from Liverpool.