When we were poorly…
Every issue, Yours writer Marion Clarke will be sharing memories. This fortnight, we recall the trials and tribulations of childhood illnesses
‘My last memory as I left in the ambulance was seeing men with Flit guns entering our house to fumigate it’
In the year that the NHS celebrates its 70th birthday, it’s worth remembering how tough times were for families before health care was freely available to all.
When Mrs R Stamp and three of her siblings caught diptheria in 1936, they all had to go to an isolation hospital for six weeks: “As we were poor, Mum was worried about the bills, but our lovely family doctor told her, ‘Don’t worry, my rich patients will cover the cost’.
“Diptheria affected the throat and heart and some of the children we knew died. On a recent visit to hospital for a scan, I told the nurse I’d had diptheria and she’d never heard of a patient with it. It’s wonderful to know that it has now been eradicated.”
Betty Hirst’s family also struggled financially as her father had been wounded in the First World War and was unable to work. An outbreak of scarlet fever took Betty and her sister to hospital: “We thought it was wonderful as we got eggs for breakfast – at home we had bread dipped in hot cocoa. Our favourite meal was mid-afternoon when we were given six pieces of orange and four squares of chocolate. Our parents couldn’t afford to bring us presents, but anyone who did bring toys had to hand them in at reception to be shared between all the children. When the time came, we didn’t want to leave!”
For Jan McPherson, aged only four, being admitted to an isolation hospital with scarlet fever was traumatic: “My last memory as I left in the ambulance was seeing men with Flit guns entering our house to fumigate it. “The hospital was a grey, foreboding building rather like a workhouse and I felt very alone there. My main meal was the same every day – fish boiled in milk and mashed potatoes. I put my uneaten food into the bedside locker and the nurse had a surprise when she came to clean out the cabinet! After that, I was given a more varied diet.” No wonder
Jan felt alone, as no visitors were allowed for fear of spreading infection. Ann Parham remembers her mother waving to her through the window when she was in the isolation hospital in Bath.
“The fire service came to fumigate the wards every fortnight. We were wrapped in blankets and they carried us across to the new ward.
“I spent Christmas in hospital and got very upset as I was given a lovely doll and a story book by Father Christmas, but was not allowed to take them home because of the germs.”
Dorothy Dawson and Wendy Penn both had to leave their much-loved teddy bears behind when they recovered from scarlet fever. Wendy writes: “I don’t remember much about the hospital except for the
spotless wooden floors and having jelly to eat, but when they wouldn’t let me take my teddy with me I cried all the way home.”
Thanks to her mother, Janet Simmons didn’t have to part with her teddy: “My room at home had to be fumigated and toys disposed of – including my teddy bear! This was not well received by Mam! She intimated that this would only happen over her dead body so it was agreed to fumigate teddy as well as the bedroom. I still have him now!”
Before the introduction of vaccines in the Sixties, mumps and measles were common childhood illnesses. Lorraine Dodd was unlucky enough to catch both. “I had measles when I was four. All the curtains had to be kept closed because my eyes were sensitive to light. I did recover, but the following year, when father came into my bedroom to check why I hadn’t got up one morning, he was shocked to see my swollen face. I had mumps.
“While recovering, I could see my schoolmates walking to school without me, but I enjoyed the special attention I got from my gran who used to bring me Lucozade and bread soaked in Oxo as my throat was too sore for solid foods.”
Damaged eyesight, even blindness, was one of the possible complications of measles, as Margaret Rymer recounts: “The village nurse called frequently and a pair of Grannie’s navy-blue bloomers hung from the lightshade to darken the room. My sister and I were not allowed to read and spent days just lying on our beds, covered in spots.”
Anyone who remembers the awful boredom of being confined to bed as a child will sympathise with Nancy Mandera’s story: “My sevenyear-old son had mumps and, having been advised to keep him warm, I wound a brown woollen scarf under his chin to tie in a knot on the top of his head. The ends of the scarf hung down each side of his face so he was sat up in bed looking like a doleful rabbit. With a big sigh, he said, ‘I’m trying to be happy, but it’s not easy’.”
Next issue:
Chicken pox and strange cures for whooping cough!