112. Poetry Please

For the last two Thursday evenings at 8pm the nation has come out to acknowledge the work of those who are key workers and in particular the NHS.

I have many reasons to be grateful to the NHS.  I was born in a NHS hospital in Dover, my own children were born at Freedom Fields NHS hospital in Plymouth.  I’ve had my lumpy thyroid removed and shoulder rebuilt care of the NHS. NHS screening detected breast cancer, NHS consultants and nurses removed the cancer and rebuilt me.  The NHS sorted Nick’s hernia and gave my mum a new hip, the NHS looked after my dad until he couldn’t be looked after any more.  My sister in law works as a nurse for the NHS in North Yorkshire, she has been redeployed from endoscopy to critical care.  Our friend Salvo, his son Joe and Joe’s fiancee Jess are all on the front line as Senior and Junior doctors at local NHS hospitals.  Miles’ great friend and Best Man to be, George is also a Junior doctor.  My Godmother, Yvonne worked for many years as a Theatre Sister for the NHS in Cheltenham.

It strikes me that we are all in this together.  Never in my life time has it appeared so palpable that we are working together – we can all do our part, from the cleaner, to the shopkeeper, to the teacher, to the utilities worker to the surgeon we are all in it together.

One of my colleagues, Emma has shared this poem which I will send out as part of a Good Morning email next week. Michael Rosen is recovering from Coronavirus.

These are the hands’ by Michael Rosen
 
These are the hands
That touch us first
Feel your head
Find the pulse
And make your bed.
 
These are the hands 
That tap your back
That test the skin
Hold your arm
Wheel the bin
 
Change the bulb
Fix the drip
Pour the jug
Replace your hip.
 
These are the hands 
That fill the bath
Mop the floor
Flick the switch
Soothe the sore
 
Burn the swabs
Give us a jab
Throw out sharps
Design the lab.
 
And these are the hands 
That stop the leaks
Empty the pan
Wipe the pipes
Carry the can
 
Clamp the veins
Make the cast
Log the dose
And touch us last.

Author: fionaosmaston

I live in Plymouth, Devon with my husband Nick and near my parents Sandy and Sheena. Our three children, Marcus, Phoebe and Miles are grown up. I am a geographer and love teaching Geography. My current role is as an Assistant Vice Principal in an inner city comprehensive school where I lead on coaching and initial teacher training. In August 2017 I was diagnosed with invasive lobular carcinoma and following a skin sparing mastectomy and endrocrine/hormone treatment I am now awaiting a final reconstruction. These views are my own and writing this story has helped me come to terms with where I am in this interlude of life which has been dominated by breast cancer.

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