Nursing

Some years ago, coming hurriedly out of my study into the corridor on the  ground floor, I still remember how I had nearly  opened the door into an  “extra”  who was making his way from a “Green Room” into the Saloon for the next scene. His head was apparently bandaged and he was still in some sort of uniform.

Julian Fellowes, had turned Highclere or Downton into a World War 1 convalescent home whilst continuing the story of the Grantham family as they dealt with fundamental changes in their lives and the world at large.

He showed them trying to do their best to cope with shifting social changes as well as tragedy. It spurred me on to write a book about what really happened at Highclere during that time when it was indeed turned into a hospital during the war by my predecessor, Almina, the 5^th Countess of Carnarvon.

I began by reading the letters in the archives from her patients which had been sent to her after the men had left Highclere. In real life they were transferred elsewhere to convalesce after their hospital treatment, usually to houses by the sea where the clean air was believed to be beneficial to healing. The letters were all about saying thank you and, as a researcher and writer, they gave so much detail about their injuries, about life at the castle, about the men’s families and about their fears and worries.

Even the handwriting gave clues about each man’s state of mind, wibbly wobbly if their hand were injured, sometimes in pencil, sometimes written on headed paper from their next port of call, full of courage and of hope but also sometimes of fear. Fear for the repercussions of their injuries but also the realisation that once they had passed their medical boards they would often return to the trenches, to the theatre  of war once more.

I cannot read many of them without tears, not least at their gratitude for the kindness and expert professional nursing skills they received at Highclere. The best surgeons would come to operate once a week, the nurses would read to their patients or play scrabble with them or help them outside to sit under a tree. Cleanliness was key (it was before antibiotics), good food and, in Highclere’s case, whisky before dinner and perhaps some beer.

In comparison, hospital procedures have vastly improved over the last century and the advances in anaesthetics and knowledge have been extraordinary. Nevertheless, Lady Almina was always interested in the latest procedures. For example, the use of x-ray machines became more prevalent at this time so, helped with funding from Lord Alfred de Rothschild, Almina of course installed one in her hospital.

Many dictionary definitions of nursing begin by listing its functions and undoubtedly Almina wished to run a pragmatic, well organised hospital. She understood, however, the root of the word nursing – it emerges from word “nurshen, norishen ” meaning supplying with food and drink, of care and nurture. We may have more equipment today but time to nourish and nurture is always at the heart of good nursing.

The word “war” was scribbled shakily across the Highclere visitor book in August 1914. Everyone hoped it would all be over by Christmas but it was not to be.

Too many men “Knock-kneed, coughing like hags,.. cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares{they} turned our backs, And towards our distant rest began to trudge”. (Wilfred Owen)

Eventually, it was over and the Armistice was signed at 11am on the 11^th day of the 11^th month, 105 years ago. Quite literally, the arms were stopped.

Writing “Lady Almina” was in many ways a revelation. She was a woman who did all she could to improve the lives of strangers – someone else’s husband, son, father or brother, instinctively understanding it was about mental health as well as physical healing at a time when this was only dimly understood and rarely accepted.

Our forebears had such hopes for this day. For peace, for the laying down of arms and for making space for everyone. To be able to put arms around one another to comfort and say welcome – the best gift.