THE DAY'S WORK.

Dominion, Volume 1, Issue 283, 24 August 1908, Page 8

THE DAY'S WORK.

; THE INVALID'S DAY. • IN TOWN. AND AT OTAKI. TWO. PICTURES. .' Shoulders and loins Ache . ....!,. Acho,,and,the mattress, . Runs'into boulders and hummocks. ; : ' . —Henley. Where falls not hail, or rain,,or any snow, Nor- ever wind blows loudly ; but it lies Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard lawns And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea, ... 'Where. X .will heal mo of my grievous wound. , . —Tennyson. The day's work ,of the invalid is the longest day of all. His work is tho hardest wqrk, when tho least movement calls for perspiration. 13ut ifi propped on uncomfortablo pillows, his window shows him a restricted square of dull suburban street, ho has the most interesting outlook of all workers and all players. His world, of two chains long by two chains broad, is wonderful with < novel movement. Ho sees it with now eye 3. Successivo Types. At 5 a.m. tho invalid's long day begins. "Oh, do pull up the blinds." He is already tired with the longer night's imrcst. The milk carts clatter in the street, it must bo day. - A sleepy nurse—hale people aro always up the blinds, revealing tho dim tnoroughfare, from which tho mists are rising. A milk-cart stops across tho road. Tho driver gets down, claps his frozen hands, harangues his sleepy horse, as if it had a deep. design to bolt the moment that his back is turned. It does not look like bolting. Tho niilkinau disappears with rattling cans, reappears, harangues tho horse again as if it should have bolted after all, and drives away. For half an hour the population of the world consists of milkmen. . Hurrah! no vehicle, but a human tread I A workman, in dungarees, with a kit slung across his bent shoulders. A . sullen follow, he scowls at tho grey morning, ■ at the thought of work, but he is welcome.; A second, in corduroys, dark flannels, his neck bare. A third,' and whistling! Joy! The patient knows all these wharf-lump-ers. They have'becomo old friends.For half an hour they sharo tho world with milkmen. Then the real morning begins, the Wondelrful morning of infinite variety and bustle. That is not a _ milk-cart's noise. It is, it is the first carrier. There is a collie dog upon tho seat, • and; it is wearing a "hard-liitter." Yesterday it had a bonnet. Tho carrier regards tho dog approvingly, smiling at his little joke. The dog. wags its tail and-smiles in answer. They do not know what happiness they are giving. Other carriers' carts aro filled with workers. ' They are a- good-natured tribe, theso carriers. Not so the .cabmen who go down to meet the 'early boats. Perched on their' high "dickies," looking straight before them, they seem filled with dignity and self-import-anco. And now the trams are rushing, past, crowded with workmen, bearing kits. They are a' which does not tire for the next hour. .. ./ t : , . But it. does tiro finally. The invalid sinks back upon his pillows, even at the risk of suggesting "slops": to his now militant nurse, and inwardly bemoans his "jot. A gleam of blue; :he scrambles up again; of course, it is the constable, to and fro, to and fro, parading ceaselessly,; with no eyes for milkcarts, collie dogs,. or tramcars, jaded eyes that only want sleep.' The invalid feds better, pitying him; • r Office - clerks, spruce and beautiful, factory girls and office girls, rosy-cheeked, vivacious, good to look upon; what a different type is now going by! "0 bravo new world, th&t has such people in't." In an hour's time pass portly city merchants; ' then ' the Council's', go '.by; 'their procession'lasts'all' day and every day; the invalid knows everyj horso 5 and every : 'driver.

The Last Excitement., "Slops"; no escape, and tho invalid sinks back dejected. • The day has only. one . excitement. leftr-the. doctor's visit. Hours are spent' in "freshening up" and the painful effort to look a little better than he looked the day before. . "May I sit up to-day?" The doctor gone, life is, a weary blank until, at five o'clock, the world's types commence their new procession homewards, in , due order.' : The life of fishes, which observe all objects deflected through'two'different mediums, must be something like the life of invalids. The invalid forgets what legs .ire like;. ho sees folk moving curiously on their waists. A 'dark blur seen across the road through tho far edge of the window is a puzzling shadow on the 'hillside, until convalescence startles him with tho explanation of a roof. The letters on. a hoarding opposito are twisted into curious shapes by somo trick of the glass. Tho patient reads them up and down, backwards and forwards. At evening comes a sudden fear that makes him start. Surely that line of houses on" the side of Mount Victoria is on fire! But the shadows darken, the blaze dies down; ii was only the red sunset reflected from window-panes. ;

The Otaki Hospital. It all grows wearisome in time. Then, happy patient, if ho bo transferred to the ' Otaki Hospital, to soft country air and a far diffeient soene! The hospital is built on a low'hill; from his bed on the sunned verandah he can ; see, immediately below' him, grassy: lawns, and gardens; violets, jonquils, daffodils, and paeonies in-bright bloom ; beyond, the. sand dunes, the blue tranquil sea, where shouts of warriors Mid plash of warcanoes once made commotion; Kapiti Island, where the warriors feasted, and in the distance the dim coast-line of the South 'Island. Or, if the invalid is suffering from a chest complaint, he may go to the Otaki sanatorium, about a quarter of a mile distant, which commands tho samo view of the" sea, and looks north, past native bush and hills, to the faint cones of Ngaruhoe, Ruapehu, and Tongariro, just visible on clcar morns and evenings. Eastward, past green, fertile fields, aro bush-clad hills and . the snow-crested Tararua range. Any invalid should get well here. The hospital has room for, 18-patients, and there wero ten in residence when an official visit of inspection was paid on Saturday by tho Wellington Hospital who control both hospital and sanatorium. The buildings, of ■ a bright and cheerful aspect, stand on a hundred acres of land, containing a small farm —nine cows, poultry, and several beehives. The day's work of a patient in tho hospital must be very limited. Tho airy, ■ pleasant wards, tho cosy sitting rooms, tho slender library must very soon become familiar- Two sisters and a probationer form the complete staff under tho matron, Miss Sealy, who has charge also of the sanatorium. Tho operating theatre, Bmall and speckless, with its hinged _ table, and its glass-doored cupboard shining with innumerable steel instruments, dods not tempt the patient's curiosity, nor does ho want to know too much about the myriad bottles in the faintly odorous disponsary.' The Sanatorium. ; But patients in-tho sanatorium have more employment and diversions. The women havo small gardens of their own, which they may cultivate, and this suggests a friendly rivalry-of effort. Thero is more company, since room exists for 30, and eleven patients of each sex arc now in residence. Two sisters and three probationers form, under tho matron, tho sanatorium staff. Rambles by hill and sea are compulsory on all who havo the strength; hopeless cases aro not kept; after a month's probation tho "incurables" are sent to the Seddon Hospital in Wellington, or elsewhere. Tho women can play croquet, tho men bowls, on the smooth lawn before tho sanatorium, and they do so with much zest. Patients make -their own beds, and otherwise receive a good domestic ' training, which makes for happy homes when they dopart. Deep-breathing oxcrcises. ore obligator?. Tho doctor's visit is an occasion of importance; Dr. Huthwaito, of Otaki, visits both tho hospital and tho sanatorium every day. Mosquitoes, many and ferocious, lend some of the excitement of warfare to an otherwise peaceful -life* [A 1

patient • may forget his mosquito not, but the enemy does not forget. ."Weight-put-ting" competitions or an unusual kind prevail. Ono patient lias "put on" 1611b. in fivo weeks.

_ Sanatorium patients do not wasto much timo in bed. Only those who take tuberculin treatment aro laid up for a few days each month after injection of tho tuberculin. Throo pationts wero in bod on this account on Saturday. Yet, even for thoso in bed, the sanatorium looks'a pleasant place. Tho main building, of bungalow shape, has long dining rooms for men and women in the middlo, and bedrooms at each end, with a verandah running all along tho front. Tho windows open upward, leaving tho wholo front of dining rooms and bedrooms open to tho sun. There arc also fivo dotached shelters for men; and tlireo for women, in lino with tho main building. Each is equipped with the electric light,, and there aro a bathroom and lavatory for each set. Reclaiming 1 the Waste. To watch tho reclamation of tho waste is interesting. Already a great portion of tho hundred ■ acres has a very different appearance from the desolation 'which existed when tho hospital was' formally opened on Empire Day last year. The garden at tho sanatorium, green now with early vegetables, was turned up for the first time last August, yet at tho last Otaki summer show its products took seven prizes, including ono for the best collection of vegetables, grown in tho district. Ground whore _ two_ months ago manuka flourished thick is fair to-day with rhubarb, cabbages, and peas. An elaborate scarecrow waves his arms as if in triumph over the transformatjon. On tho. south side, next the fernery, tiny blades of' grass aro shooting up to form a new lawn, round whoso borders roses, sweet peas, and other " high midsummer pomps will soon como on. Patients and Cures. Septic'tanks and destnictors ; tho pumping plant, and other facilities, which give these distant establishments all the sanitary and domestic advantages of city institutions, must interest the patient in turn. And what about his fellow-patients? When tho needs of tho city and province aro not too great, they are. welcome from all parts ,of New Zealand, if they can pay the modest fee —not exceeding £2 2s. a week—or if their Hospital Boarcl will pay it. _ The principal expense . of maintenance is met by local bodies' , contributions, to which the Government'adds pound for pound. At tho sanatorium there are usually more women patients than men. Maoris use the hospital and shun the sanatorium. Their favourite treatment for chest complaints is the bad treatment of hot fires and blankets. Does tho sanatorium cure? Tho matron states that since it opened fifty patients have been admitted, and twenty-eight discharged. Two patients, whose cases wero hopeless from tho first, died in the institution. Fifteen wero sent away practically cured, and able to resume their work. Three years must elapse before the matron will say " cured," ana. it is yet too early* to. apply this test. Seven cases were discharged as practically hopeless, and two as somewhat improved. The figures, which' were prepared some time ago, and brought up to dato from memory, do not exactly tally, but they aro correct enough for ordinary purposes. So that life is hopeful at the sanatorium.