Hospital Admissions in the Early 90s

Day 12:  A time when the nurses would join in our shenanigans

Photo Credit: Sonia Sears

In the early ’90s, the respiratory ward at Sir Charles Gairdner Hospital (Charlies) was in B Block. Back then, people with CF would share a double room or hang out in the CF Common Room together — it was a place where we could cook, eat meals, play board games or watch movies.

At Charlies, for the most part, the nurses would join in our shenanigans. They were either actively participating in them by joining in the water fights or providing the necessary syringes for the shenanigans to commence. On the surface, it might seem irresponsible — but the nursing staff understood two truths. If we were up to no good — we were on the mend. If we were still in our beds, we weren’t well. I think some of them overlooked the shenanigans because they understood what we went through — and that some people with CF spent the majority of their life in the hospital ward.


During the second week of a hospital stay, I would often go to work dispensing my midday antibiotics in the staff room, then return to the hospital after work. This display of responsibility was usually paid back by some sort of prank when I returned to the hospital.

In later years with cross-infection guidelines firmly in place, the respiratory ward moved to G Block. In G Block, single rooms and shut doors are the norm. A hospital admission became a dreary thing to be endured.

The Last Walk
I wrote The Last Walk as a nod to the incredible medical staff — who over the years turned a blind eye to shenanigans (or actively participated). Staff who have brought home-cooked meals, or sat with me in the middle of the night simply because they could.
It’s also for others with CF, who lived through those wild hospital admissions in the early 90s — who will know that I left out far more than I included because sometimes life is stranger than fiction.

31 Days of Cystic Fibrosis Bonus Fact
I once woke up on the balcony pictured above. Tom, found it highly amusing to come into my room while I was sleeping, and wheel my bed — while I still slumbered — up the corridor, past the nurse’s station, and parked me out there in the open.
I’m reasonably confident; he didn’t act alone. But he was the only one I caught, and by caught, I mean he hung about to laugh at me.

Next in the 31 Days of Cystic Fibrosis series - Burkholderia Cepacia Reared Its Ugly Head and Ripped Our Community in Two

How the cross-infection policy changed everything

31 Days of Cystic Fibrosis is an awareness-raising campaign to coincide with
the national Cystic Fibrosis (CF) awareness month in Australia.
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​If you’ve just joined the journey and want to start at the beginning, you’ll find the first post here: Your Daughter Has Cystic Fibrosis