YOUTHFUL PATIENTS.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIII, Issue 19215, 2 January 1926, Page 12

YOUTHFUL PATIENTS.

THE SCENE IN HOSPITAL. AFTERMATH OF CHRISTMAS. MANY JOYS AND DIVERSIONS. ..It was a bad day for little Pipi when he choked on a peanut away back last September, and had to be hurried in from the Maori village to the Auckland Hospital, to undergo an operation with a name three times as long as his own. Pipi, being of sturdy stock, made good recovery, however, and the little brown sprite immediately became the mascot of Ward 24 at the Children's Hospital. All went well until the very last day of the year; then the bad fairies cast the evil 1 eye on poor Pipi again, and launched ' him into 1926 with an attack of the measles. He felt the indignity and the isolation terribly, and made a woeful picture as he sat up in his cot in his scarlet jacket on Thursday, with the tears rolling down his little brown face, refusing to be comforted. But Pipi's infantile plaint was the only discordant note in Ward 24 on that warm, still morning. All the small patients were very quiet and good. It was lunch-time, and a dozen or more tiny folk were having a busy time with enamel mugs and spoons. They become very independent and uppish in thei matter of feeding at the Children's Hospital, and the sister's kindly attempt to retrieve a blob of babyfood from one infant's bib was repulsed with t smaufc from the back of the spoon. Tilt* big ward was still gay with Christmas decorations, and on almost every white coverlet there was some kind of a toy. Irresistibly the words of the children's own poet came to mind: When I was aiok and lay abed, I had two pillows at my head. And all my toys around me lay. To keep me happy all the day. A Gallant Company. At one end of the room a little sick girl lay propped up in an invalid chair. In front of her was a gay and gallant company. A large Teddy-bear in a green and crimson jacket, lording it from a miniature Morris chair over a whole family of dolls seated on tiny wicker chairs, several more families tucked neatly away into bed, an assortment of woolly beasts of varying sizes, and a pop-gun lying in the chair beside the patient. One did not need to bo told that Santa had been exceptionally kind to the sick children this year, for there were signs of it everywhere. Evory cupboard revealed .the same treasure-trovo of toys. One little boy suffering from pneumonia had a white furry rabbit, a bright spinning top, a trumpet and a launch, while the bed of the boy next him was littered with lead soldiers, a train, a motor-car, an enormous tin beetle, and a box of bricks. Over in the opposite ward, where the patients were a little older, four, merry mites,, in pyjamas and nightdresses came running out of the convalescent bay with cries of welcome when the sister entered. One was an Indian brave with a bright headdress of feathers; the others all wore gaudy paper caps, and they capered and pranced in all the joy of returning health. Among them was little Jean, who for the past year has breathed through a tube in her throat, but she skipped round with the others, as bright as a bee. William, who has a corner bed, has stocked a little shop with his toys on a window-ledge, and is as proud of the display as any small subnrban dealer setting up his first Christmas window. Some Pathetic Oases. But not all the children were inclined to play and chatter. One little girl, suffering from heart trouble, toyed listlessly with a string of beads, which brought no sparkle to her blue eyes. In the next cot was a little three-year-old, a curly-haired boy with lovely brown eyes. He sat up on his counterpane nursing one plump foot, uttering no sound, perfectly still, just gazing out of the window at the blue sky with the long, intent gaze of infancy. The New Year will have grown old ere this wistful mite will bp running about again as other children do. A sound of boyish voices and the clatter of dishes o?,me from a little room on the ground floor as the sister and visitor passed, half-a-dozen youngsters washing up the dinner things. These are boys who have been in hospital for a long time. They are quite old hands at the job, and are a very real help to the busy nurseis. Christmas has been a happy time for the older boys, too, and many of them Were reading enthralling books of adventure as they sat propped up with pillows, while others were busy with stamp and cigarette-card albums. Outside on a strip of crass ware six tubercular lads who are undergoing; sun-treatment. Every day the sun shinesi, they are taken outside to bask in the sun. Some of them lay stretched on mattresses, their poor limbs straight and stiff in splints and straps and plaster. Some of them have been at the hospital for several years. It may be the only home they will know until boyhood's brief span is passed. Thev delieht in their sun-treatment, the nurses say, and find plenty to interest them out there under the trees and the blue sky. Bailway Workshop's Gift. Thera are many kind hearts filled with sympathy for the young sufferers. One of their most treasured possessions is a fine gramophQue presented by the Newmarket railway workshop employees, who, at Christmas time, sent £5 for the purchase of new records. The boys love the music, and never tire ot listening to their favourite songs and "bed-time stories." Another valuable gift which is much appreciated is a spinal chair, which enables the patients to be wheeled from one ward to another in comfort. On the other side of the path was the most pathetic sight to be seen in all that place of suffering, where there are so many twisted, crippled bodies, yet so many light hearts and so much childish laughter. Here were rows of cots containing the little _ victims of the cruel scourge of infantile paralysis. A tiny two-year-old, with a mop of light, silvery curls, stood gurgling with laughter as the nurse approached. It was not until one saw the dimpled baby hand all tightly bound up to the little neck that one realised the* tragedy of it—more than half of that wee span of life spent in hospi-, tal, away from the mother heart and mother care. Nearby was a seven-year-old girl with both Tegs in splints, and every other cot held a little cbild with one or more limbs stiffly bound in steel and leather strappings. But massage and unremitting care are doing their good work, and there is hone that eventually every small patient will be able to run aboufr and nlay in the joy of childhood so long denied.