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Be careful choosing your words Cliff !

I met Dr Cochrane many years after my birth, at a Nottingham Hospitals Radio do, and I slapped his backside. I considered it revenge as he did it to me in 1961.

Now there's a doctor who most of our women know Dr Cochrane? Remember having problems during pregnancy had to see Dr Cochrane at city hospital NOW DON'T LAUGH Being a young lass of 20 and never

Freckles, I well remember nurse Heaton who delivered my older sister and should have delivered me. Both were home births in 1950 and 1957 respectively.

My mother always said nurse Heaton was most particular about cleanliness. She wrapped all the delivery equipment in terry nappies prior to my sister's birth. Poor mum was worried there would be none left for her to use as they were rationed and no more than a dozen were permitted.

Mum dared to disagree with the intrepid nurse Heaton about her due date as regards me! The nurse was going away for the weekend and said mum was not to dare to have me until she returned. Mum insisted I would be born on the Saturday and, indeed, I was, at 5 am. The nurse was most indignant when she returned on Monday 2nd December and found mum sitting up in bed scoffing the contents of a huge box of chocolates whilst I dozed cosily in my moses basket.

Later on, I saw the nurse most days on my way to Berridge Road school and she always said Hello. I can see her now in her immaculate uniform and hat.

Nurse Heaton lived in one of the council houses just prior to the corner of Bobbers Mill Road and Darley Avenue. We lived at the bottom. She garaged her green car just below our house.

In old age, the formidable nurse developed dementia, living alone after the death of her mother and her house was said to be filthy. Very sad, as she was revered as a well respected midwife.

Mr Cochrane, as a young medic in 1947, operated on my grandmother who was only 58. He found inoperable ovarian cancer and, tragically, there was nothing he could do. She died a few weeks later.

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I had my baby in January 1978 - she was premature as I had Proclampsia and delivered by Miss Baker late on Sunday night, everybody was marvellous and without them we both probably would have died............I have never had any complaints when I have been in hospital, the only time people were nasty to me was the Famly Planning People at Bulwell Health Centre in the 1980's, they were right bitches, they had no right to dictate to me what contraception I should use......Our NHS is the best in the world.......

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  • 3 weeks later...

Like many who have contributed to this thread I too was born at The Firs in 1954 and delivered into this world by Mr John Cochrane. A photo of him can be found at http://www.nottinghamhospitalshistory.co.uk/page83.html.

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Miss Baker took care of me in 1977/78 during my pregnancy with my daughter born Jauary 1978...........A very nice lady.......

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# 84. Thanks for posting the link Tim, this is the first time I've seen a photo of Dr Cochrane even though I heard so much about him.

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Just been looking at the history of Mapperley Hospital. Dr A Minto was a prominent Psychiatrist there in the 1960s and his son was at my school.

This was the man who spotted what many others had missed.

After my Mum had spent a lot of time in treatment for depression, and I had done my stint too, Dr Minto finally got to see my Dad. Dad was, to say the least.. 'difficult', and his behaviour was largely responsible for my and my Mum's issues.

Dr Minto decided to do a full medical exam on my Dad before embarking on any psychiatry. Result? Dad was diagnosed with Pernicious Anaemia (Systemic Vitamin B12 deficiency) and once treated became pretty much normal again. Pernicious Anaemia it seems, causes mental instability.

Dr Minto is my hero.

Col

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In 1974, after completing our GCE exams, the Manning fifth formers were left with a few weeks of term with nothing to do.

It was decided to send us all on what would now be called work experience to get us out of the way for the remainder of the term.

There was a choice of working in a school or working in a hospital. As I'd seen more than enough of school at that point in my life, I chose to spend two or three weeks working in a hospital and myself and a friend were allocated the Nottingham General Hospital and, more specifically, the Cancer unit which was situated in an old house on the Ropewalk in Nottingham.

This unit looked after cancer patients who were undergoing radiation treatment and very early chemotherapy which in those days had horrific side effects and most of whom were very unwell. They were only there during weekdays and went home at the weekend, coming back on Monday morning.

One task that was allocated to my friend and I was to powder these patients with what looked like talcum powder when they returned from their treatment, as their skin was usually red, inflamed and looked as though it had been burnt.

The patients covered a range of ages but I remember that one of them was a fairly young man who had two small children. It was another task that we had to go and ask the patients what they would like for their meals and then send the menu to the hospital kitchen. We used to have a lot of fun with the young chap who, even though very seriously ill, maintained his sense of humour. It came as a shock therefore one Monday morning when we arrived, to find that his bed was empty and to be told that he had died during the weekend.

I remember one of the doctors who, probably because I showed an interest in what was going on there, asked me if I would like to come and watch early chemotherapy drugs being administered to a patient. Naively, I asked him if this was going to make the person well again. He looked at me rather contemptuously and replied that of course it wasn't because all the people at the unit we're going to die of cancer but,basically, they had to experiment on somebody with their drugs. He didn't actually use the phrase 'guinea pig' but that is what he meant and I have never forgotten that conversation.

I decided then and there that if I was ever diagnosed with anything serious, I would keep quiet about it because I certainly wouldn't want to be experimented on as those people were.

I am convinced that the teachers at school had no idea of what the two of us were doing at the General Hospital and, if they had, they would have withdrawn us from there like greased lightning as it wasn't the sort of activity or experience that 16 year old girls should have been subjected to. I have certainly never forgotten it and often think about the people in that unit and what they must have suffered before they were finally released from their pain because, believe me, there was very little dignity involved in any of it.

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These days it is not possible for anyone under 18 to have such direct patient content - and rightly so. Also, drug trials are now highly regulated and subject to ethical approval and require informed patient consent. They are the way that new evidence based treatments are developed.

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Just had a look on Google and the building is still there, looking much more presentable than it did in 1974. It appears to have been given a new name, Cavendish House, although it wasn't called that when I knew it.

It appears to have been converted, at least partially, into a private dental practice but it would seem that the building also contains flats or apartments. I must admit I shudder at the thought of anyone living in that place considering the pain and misery it must have seen during the years when it was a satellite wing of the Nottingham General Hospital and I suppose the same applies to the building which once served as the eye hospital which is only just across the road.

I certainly would not want to live in such a place.

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Jill, Interesting comments you have made and quite an experience. I worked at Nottingham General Hospital for nearly three years and knew the consultants and senior nursing staff on Gervis Pearson ward ( Oncology )-which I think you are referring to. I even worked on the ward. I never ever saw any experimenting with cytotoxic drugs. The Oncology ward was first class.

The former ward is still there but not sure where you get the term Cavendish House from.

Kind regards,

Tony

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#95

Tony

The building I am referring to was 48 The Ropewalk. Patients had their beds in small dormitories, 4 beds in each of the upstairs rooms. Looking at the property details for part of this building which is now being offered as a two bedroomed flat, I actually recognised what is now a kitchen as being the site of one of these former dormitories. I remember it because the windows in that room began at floor level, under a sloping roof.

Cavendish House is, I believe, the name of a chain of private dental practices but in 1974, this building had a different name which was etched into the glass light above the entrance door. I cannot recall what it was.

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That is the building, Cliff Ton. It was a somewhat rambling edifice, internally full of little passages and steps which possibly connected what may originally have been separate buildings with each other and I also recall that the floor surfaces were very uneven and sloping in parts.

As a hospital building, I suspect it certainly wouldn't meet the elf and safety requirements so beloved today!

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When I was student I had summer holiday jobs at the General. In the long hot summer of 1976 I worked the the surgical stores in 'The Looms' building towards the bottom of Postern Street. My job was to fill a trolley with deliveries of the likes of gloves, syringes, needles, stitch cutters, plaster of paris bandages etc and deliver them to all of the wards and departments around the hospital. It took a while to get your head round the fact that without using a lift and just going along a flat corridor what was the ground floor at the main entrance became the 4th floor of another block. Postern Street was not only steep, but also cobbled, so at the start of my 10 week stint the wobbly stores trolley full of heavy plaster of paris bandages for A&E was a challenge for two of us. By the time I finished my colleaguer and I took turns to push it single handedly up the hill. I don't think I have been as fit since then!

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