Kindness of Strangers
Hospitalised overseas, I made friends with closer ties to me than I could guess
FOR ME, 2012 was a milestone year. I was turning 70, and just as I was deciding how to celebrate, a brochure arrived from a seniors’ travel company about an escorted tour of the UK and Ireland. It was perfect, as they were visiting the birthplaces of my grandparents, Yorkshire and Connemara, where I’d always yearned to go.
On the day of departure, a friend from New Zealand, Don Martin, phoned to wish me well. I promised to call and share my adventures as soon as I arrived home.
The tour started off well in London with our accommodation overlooking the Palace of Westminster and Big Ben, a sightseeing tour and a Thames boat trip. However, the next morning I began to feel unwell during a tour of Hampton Court Palace. The next day, I was admitted to Warwick Hospital with pneumonia and placed on an antibiotic drip and oxygen. On regaining consciousness two days later I realised with horror that the tour had gone ahead, leaving me alone and barely able to function, surrounded by strangers thousands of kilometres from home in a country where I knew of no one to contact for help.
As I gazed across the room, another patient and her male visitor smiled. Introducing themselves as Sue and Roger Bliss, they said they had been told of my plight, and offered to contact my relatives in Australia. The relief that washed over me as I gave Roger my son’s phone number was
overwhelming. From that moment the retired British Merchant Navy captain and his artist wife were my guardian angels, keeping in contact with my son and daughter-in-law and making sure I had everything I needed, including their spare mobile phone.
Ten days later, I was discharged but was still too ill to travel. Sue and Roger suggested I stay at the Falcon Hotel in Stratford-upon-Avon, their hometown, where Roger’s ancestors had lived for many generations (one, they assured me, sold his glove-making business to William Shakespeare’s father). Each morning at ten they came with magazines, books and special treats. When I was well enough, they took me to see places of historical interest.
At dinner on the night before my flight home, I told Sue and Roger that words could never express my gratitude for their kindness. I then spoke of a friend in New Zealand who over the years had been there to listen,
advise and assist whenever needed, and how much this meant to me. I explained he was a retired veterinary surgeon living on a picturesque property in Muriwai, west of Auckland, with his horses and other animals. Sue suddenly exclaimed “Don Martin! And Hec and Anne?” (Don’s brother and sister-in-law). Anne turned out to be Roger’s stepsister and the couple had visited Don in Muriwai. We sat staring at each other in stunned silence before exclaiming in wonder at how this miracle of synchronicity with connections spanning thousands of kilometres and three countries had brought us together in a hospital when I was so much in need.
Ever since the bond between us has grown. We keep in contact and hope very much to meet again.
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