大象传媒

I had just celebrated my 15th birthday having recovered from a death's door experience (I had a lateral cavernous sinus thrombosis and meningitis) which had left me with three discharging bumps on my forehead just above the hairline. At this time there was a reluctance by physicians to rectify my condition. However Mr Wylie McKissock a renowned neuro consultant surgeon of Harley Street and also St.George's (then at Hyde Park corner), came upon the scene and true to form felt surgery the only option. Thus I was admitted to the special neuro surgical unit at Atkinson Morley Hospital (originally a large spacious country house) at Copse Hill, Wimbledon. The eminent consultant, a law unto himself and always impeccable in his dress was always attended by his long standing ward and theatre sister plus a flock of minor minions; and his decisions were instant and authoritative.
We were living near Palmers Green, having left Highbury (within sight and sound of the famous Arsenal football club) earlier in war for fear of stuka dive bombers whining down as the blitzkreig in Holland was vivid in our memory. The irony was that only after being in the house a few days; Jerry dropped a land mine (later discovered to be "one of ours" left behind at Dunkirk) crashing ceilings and smashing our windows - however I digress!
After a day or so observation, Atkinson Morley hospital suddenly became almost empty as, unknown to but a few, the hospital was being cleared for something known to but a few. Notwithstanding, as the surgeon had already made up his list for the sharp scalpel; I was prepared for theatre. This involved an extra night in the theatre annexe on recovery and constant attendance and I was then trolleyed back on to the ward where my bed in the corner was surrounded with many pillows to ensure I did not move as, if I did, I would immediately black out (the safety fuse in my skull blowing at the slightest move).
Later, trusting that only the infected parts, leaving three small holes in my skull, had been removed, I was shocked to find that most of the frontal bone, the size of half a saucer, had been trepanned! Hence the essential total immobility requirement! In my pillow towered corner bed, when realisation had in part returned; I recall repeated background music interrupted by reports from Normandy beachhead and towns such as Arromanche, Falaise and Caen. The constant repeated music was sung by Ginny Simms ( I suppose you would call her a pop star today) "Grab your coat and grab your hat - leave your worries on the doorstep - just direct your feet - to the sunny side of the street! And if I never have a dime, I'll be as rich as Rockerfeller - just direct your feet to the sunny side of the street" It certainly became the theme tune of D Day!
As improvement set in I became aware of the four hourly horse syringe injection directly onto the wound area by means of a rubber valve tube sewn on either side of site. The strength of this initial penicillin, a viscose straw coloured liquid that smelt of stables and stained sheets if the valve did not function; more often in the early days "blew my fuse". However, I became acclimatised and in the end did not even wake up when through night administration. I then noticed the troops, many in most distressing circumstances and inevitably counting the trolleys with some enshrouded leaving. Much of this is better left unsaid but the prognosis on admission was obviously very low. Some few days after the droning V1 was launched and many falling short of London landing near the hospital. When the droning stopped, those of us unable to be moved, just sat and waited. If it was close, the metal bed jumped from the floor - I luckily blacked out - and the trauma was over. Finally, the swathe of bandages was left off for the recognition photo (in case of amnesia) and I was shocked to see the front of my head rising and falling to my heart pulse and of course the red mercurochrome (iodine) that made one look that an area of congealed blood had not been cleaned up. Eventually, always in a soft hat, I was discharged. This minimised distress and if seen by others evoked a few swear words - those bloody Germans! - plus the benefit of free gratitude such as cinemas, travel etc; in spite of my protests. Eventually some hair returned and matters were more regularised.

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