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Letter from Poland :: Maternity Wards

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John Beauchamp 22.10.2014 14:00
  • Letter from Poland :: Maternity Wards
Freshly introduced to fatherhood, John Beauchamp takes a look at the positive energy of Polish maternity wards.

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I try and steer clear of Polish hospitals, or any hospitals for that matter. Without wishing for instant karma, so far, I’ve had more luck than my family and friends: the last time I was taken in for treatment was on New Year’s Day in 2003, at the regional hospital in Płock. And before you jump to any conclusions, I was taken down by a dodgy vegetable salad, and not due to overconsumption of vodka the night before, something about which I got into an argument with the doctor on duty.

Hospitals in Poland are funny places: among the infirm who roam the corridors with blank stares on their faces, the hospital staff who always seem to be in a bit of a hurry, there are the droves of family visitors – myself included – with the endless supplies of fruit and other provisions, newspapers, clean sets of PJs and other creature comforts. The same scene can be witnessed at any medical centre in Warsaw, be it the Banacha, Barska, Bródno, or Bielański hospitals, and dare I say it, even at the regional hospital in Płock. However, this time was different. I wasn’t going to visit someone who was ill, but calling in on my wife and newborn son.

Now, all parents will know the taxing process of giving birth. Bringing a new being into the world is always a harrowing experience, more so for mother, but for dads too it’s a bold step into the unknown. I was presented with the boy soon after he was born, and I melted: any first-time dad knows the drill. It was just as well, then, that a few minutes later, our wonderful midwife was quick to offer me a cheeky cigarette out the back after mother and baby were whisked away to the ward to recuperate after a long and extremely tiring evening. After we had gone outside, and still dressed in my green single-use scrubs and shoe-covers, we started talking about the birth and the boy before we got onto other earthy matters such as country walks and renaissance dress customs. My head began to spin – and here the midwife was clearly experienced in dealing with dizzy dads, so she offered me another ciggie to calm me down. After all, things would be different from here on out.

The next ten days or so were spent ferrying myself between home and hospital with all and sundry, checking up on my wife, who was recovering slowly but surely, and on the boy, who had picked up a bit of jaundice but was otherwise fit as a fiddle. Polish hospital wards usually have an air of morosity about them, but not so the maternity ward. Of course the dark and grimy corridors which lead to the ward remind you that this is usually a place of illness and infirmity, but once inside, it is an Aladdin’s cave of positive energy, hospital staff who have learned how to smile, as well as doctors and midwives who are actually willing to respond to the beck and call of mothers, and fathers, alike. Even the choir of infant screams which resonate up and down the corridor are music to my ears, and mums whizzing about with their kids in what look like miniature shopping trolleys to see the midwives give the place an air of comedy. And while there are dramas which unfold in these places, such as children being whisked away from their mothers due to serious illness or even grave legal reasons, the overall air is one of optimism. And speaking of air, even the characteristic smell of newborns isn’t enough to deter this proud daddy, strutting down the ward as if he owned the place.

Now of course, disregarding the fact that the maternity ward at this particular north-Warsaw hospital is located across from the psychiatric wing – and here I feel a film script coming on – there is a lot that can be said for the positive energy which emanates from the one place in a hospital where life is celebrated: that it should be celebrated everywhere, and that doctors and nurses can take a leaf out of the book from the staff at maternity wings up and down the country. Not only do they have to put up with screaming babies and mothers suffering from baby blues, all-in-all tough patients to deal with, they also have to pay close medical attention to them. And that takes a lot of spirit and patience.

However, I do understand that maternity wards and wings are generally positive places, and are nothing in comparison to the trauma and frustration which can be witnessed at other hospital wings or special institutes. It is good to see that Polish hospitals themselves are tidying up their act, at least in Warsaw. EU funds are playing their part here, as corridors are brightened up, given a fresh lick of paint; even the smells coming out of hospital buffets are much more pleasant than a few years ago, and the professionalism of medical staff is also on the up. No longer do you have to tip the nurses to change your bedlinen, a practice which I have witnessed a number of times over the past decade. And while the infirm still roam the corridors with their blank gazes and families will continue to run around with all their clobber to visit loved ones, the humanity of these places seems all the more real.

Dedicated to Idzi Kazimierz Beauchamp, born 18.09.2014

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