CHILDREN'S WARD.

Sun (Christchurch), Volume II, Issue 562, 27 November 1915, Page 3

CHILDREN'S WARD.

REALISING AN IDEAL.

CHRISTCHURCH SANATORIUM.

A COMPLETE ORGANISATION.

The new buildings for the reception of tuberculous children at the Christchurcli Sanatorium have been completed, and the ideal, whereof I)r Blackmore has so long dreamed, is a step nearer realisation. Soon the open-air home, a full 600 ft up the hillside, will dominate the older buildings, and then the complete realisation will be nearer still.

ONE THING LACKING

For the Christchurch Sanatorium will then deal with tuberculosis in all its stages, from the child whom the disease menaces, but has not yet clutched, to the restored adult convalescent who leaves an institution that has much of attraction about it, to return again to the world that sprawls at his. feet. That convalescent is the only fly in the amber now, the only thing that troubles the man who has reared this institution through a youth hampered' by scepticism to a maturity where those who scoffed hardest now praise the loudest. For the convalescent goes whither? To the open fields, and the big, free unguarded stretches that Nature keeps healthy? Sometimes; but he is the exception. Usually he goes back to the squalid side-street warren, the crowded workshop, the tailor's bench, the stuffy office that bred the foul disease within him, and the dying microbes flourish again, and. in the end,, charitable aid must take him up, and he lingers to a premature end, a charge upon the State. A HARD FIGHT.

When Dr Blackmore left the tropics, a fugitive from the climatic affections, lie paused a while in Christchurch to delve with professional curiosity into the light that was preparing against tuberculosis. Euthusiasin for the cause before him was the child of his passing attention; the work gripped him, and lie started on a task that was to giye Christchurch the best equipment. the best Organisation, for fighting tuberculosis that any city of like size possesses in any part of the world. And he dreamed his dreams —a natural thing in a man over whom the magic of so entrancing a task hail cast its spell. When that children's open-air home covers the dominating plateau behind the main j block of buildings, his dreams will be nearly complete. The one thing lacking to co-ordinate and perfect the whole work, from the sickly child to the rehabilitated adult, is the care of the discharged patient. l)r Blackmore has been daring enough to urge new schemes, but a slow r -thinking'public is seldom at home to any but the old acquaintances, and that which is new must knock loudly and long, and wait with infinite patience, 'ere the door is opened. Dr Blackmore wants to see the discharged patients placed on fruit farms, where they can preserve their new-won health; he wants the children of these affected people to have all the advantages tha such a life would offer; he wants to make sure, as far as possible, that the white man's plague shall enter no more into the citadels whence it has been ejected, and he wants a path opened for the escape of the puny children from the doom that wrecked their fathers and casts its dread shadow on them. Dreams, dreams. Well, yes, but it is in the power of the people to make to-morrow's waking witness the realisation. All scientific study urges them to do it, and they will do it some day—but when? Dr Blackmore does not lack the patience to wage his war on misery to this, its complete ending, but Ms time with us in Christchurch may be too short for a task so beset with the delays that prejudice, ignorance, and indifference so callously raise. If there wasn't a strange fascination in such work as this, it would break j strong men's hearts. THE CHILDREN'S PLACE.

With the completion of the accommodation for children, l)r Blackmore will have completed all he set out to do. The new buildings for children that have just been finished provide accommodation for four boys and four girls, m the sleeping apartments. The place is light and airy, its broad balcony commanding a splendid view of the city below, the long, even stretch to New Brighton, and the glitter of the waters beyond. The walls, for a height of about 6ft up, are lined with linoleum, to permit of thorough cleansing; the wall that separates the verandah stops some distance short of the ceiling, admitting air freely. The wardrobes are just shells that, attached to the walls by hooks, can be readily removed for cleaning. Behind the building is the hill, where the children may climb and play and revel in the ready growth of ground foliage that covers the space leading to the bell of trees above.

Among the main buildings, between the administrative block and the wing, in the children's dining and play-room, that is part of the scheme for dealing 'with the children. It is quite close to the kitchen, as close as that beautiful airy diningroom that the adults have, and still it is quite a separate little entity, standing by itself, and in no way connected with the rest of the place. Light and air, here, as everywhere, are paramount considerations. It is a pleasing little place, and is now quite ready to receive its small patients. The buildings cost about £I2BO to erect, and the remainder of the money will be used to provide

the open-air home that will receive the children who have been exposed to infection. OPEN-AIR HOME.

The site for the open-air home commands as fine a view as any that the hills afford. From the snowtopped Kaikouras, nebulous in the hazed distance, far down the irregular ranges that trail their rugged length south, one may turn to a contemplation of the city, dull in its smoke and dust, the complacent Estuary untroubled and glassy bright, and the scintillating waters of the outer ocean that carry the eye to the place where all is lost in the meeting of sea and sky. It is a glorious view, and worth the climb. Forty acres of land will here offer the children opportunity for diversion, and a chance to seek health among the tussocks that the wind perpetually troubles. Some day, when the sanatorium proper can no longer contain itself within present bounds, new buildings will be put here, too, and the children's play; area will be more restricted. But there will still be acres and acres of untamed country to tumble over, plenty of jutting spurs to climb, and plenty of sunny hollows to find the sun and hide away from the wind. The home will face northwest, to catch the sunlight, and will be so constructed that additions may be made at a cost of £SO a bed. A wide belt of pines will protect the place from the force of the winds, that is, when the pines grow. Some 1200 have been planted, but the season has been dry. With the exception of a frail growth here and there, they have all died.