Shot In Hospital

Anecdotal piece based on recent event, Taking photos inside a derelict building.

Shot in Hospital  .                             1

 

“ You must take me in the car to an abandoned building.  I found one on the internet. Next Saturday OK!” my son Tim announced in his usual abrupt, insistent style.

“ It’s for my A level photoshoot,” he continued,“ and the theme I’ve chosen is ‘COLLAPSED’ “

“ Well you could at least try asking politely rather than demanding !” was all I could think of saying, more to give myself thinking time than anything else. I knew him well enough to know that any feeble attempt to prise manners out of this brash 18 year old was a bit like expecting sunshine when snow had been forecast.                         I countered with, “ If the theme is ‘collapsed’  what about a collapsing pack house of cards?”

No answer.    “.....or  maybe popping a balloon. You could use a fast shutter speed,” trying to impress with what little camera knowledge I had.

“ NO     WAY !”

“  There’s an old disused garage round the corner.” I continued, “ You know the one I mean. The roof has caved in, doors are missing and wild plants are growing from the brickwork...surely that’ll do?”

Tim was not exactly ‘won over’ by my suggestions.

“Dad, look.... you were the one that said A level photography was an easy option and I’m doing pretty well with it so far ! Mrs. Parkins told me that I could get an A* if this final project is as good as my last one. I researched ‘derelict buildings in Wales’ and found a ruined hospital near Tonypandy which would be perfect, “ he said somewhat incongruously.

OK. Checkmate. There was no point in arguing any more. I had indeed suggested that he take photography but at the time I was thinking more in terms of flowers, insects , fine architecture or landscapes but certainly not this.

“ Saturday then. We’ll call it Operation  Photoshoot ,” which for a hospital seemed  appropriate.

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I followed my SAT NAV as usual and after about 40 minutes I pulled up outside what could only be described as a barricade. Beyond that were the remains of a hospital, one building standing resolutely at the top of a hill. Most of the hospital had apparently been demolished over the course of the 30 years or more  since its closure, but the old Maternity Unit appeared , from a distance, to be reasonably intact. I certainly didn’t expect it to be situated on a hillside where  a whole community surrounding it could look on. Far too conspicuous.

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All sorts of questions raced through my mind. ‘Was this really safe? What about any Danger. Keep Out signs? What if we were  spotted by hidden cameras? Surely there must be some form of security. I could even get arrested, photographed, appear in the newspapers :- ‘Retired South Wales schoolteacher and son found guilty of trespassing in grounds of abandoned hospital’

Anyway there was no obvious way in. “ Can’t get in then Tim , sorry. Waste of time. Let’s go home, “ I said feeling somewhat foolish but a little relieved.

“ No dad, look over there! I can see a gap and it’s just about large enough for us to squeeze through. “

I was not convinced, but we were there now so it seemed pointless arguing. We got past the metal fencing and began to walk cautiously across the mounds of rubble beneath our feet. At any moment I expected a voice to yell , “ Oiii...!   you lot! “  Thankfully that didn’t happen. We passed some signs that quite frankly I didn’t want to read.  Slowly, tentatively, we made good progress up the hill until we found ourselves next to an imposing, plain brick , 2 story building. I guessed the front was about 80 metres in length. It stood firm but it soon became apparent that the whole structure had surrendered to the ravages of time and wanton human destruction. In the meantime Tim was already snapping away,. I assumed to get an overall view  so he could put whatever else followed into context.

There was a pathway around the outside  . A   reconnaissance  was definitely a possibility. We began to circle the place with a great deal of caution and not a little nervousness and apprehension. Every ground floor window we passed was boarded up with thick pieces of chipboard. I was secretly hoping that there would be no possible way in and that we could both just pack up and go home.

“There you are dad. This is it !. What do you think?”

The ‘it’  in question was a large hole where  someone had smashed through one of the panels   . It must have been no more than about 2 feet by 3 and appeared to be covering the original window frame now broken and jagged. I peered  inside and  could just about make out a small room with various fittings that lay in ruins on the floor and a door hanging precariously off its hinges.

“You go first Tim,” I said bravely... after all it was his idea to come here  and  maybe by watching him I could pick up a few tips on how to negotiate this safely myself and  so land on both feet the other side !  The ‘other side’ did not look particularly inviting as my eyes focused on broken glass , wires and all manner of debris. Even for a youngster like Tim this was definitely  going be a challenge so what hope was there for a 63 year old like me , aching joints  and all. ?

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 I watched him carefully and from my observations deduced there was a better way to climb through. With much effort and racing pulse I made it. I even think Tim was impressed by my agility, though fortunately he couldn’t hear the groaning inside !

This was undoubtedly turning out to be one of the strangest experiences of my life. Everything seemed   surreal,  a bit like like a scene from a movie, where the villain finally gets trapped , hunted down by   police to find refuge in an empty warehouse. I was just glad there were no cameras on me and Tim hadn’t taken the opportunity to take a picture of this pathetic break-in.

Once inside I was immediately struck by the dank , dusty smell . “ Reminds me a bit like nan’s house,” Tim chipped in which did nothing to lighten my spirits.   The only source of light came from the hole we had clambered through, a sort of half-light but sufficient to see. Tim wasted no time setting up his camera and finding the right mode and focus. For the next hour we stayed close together and during this time his hands and fingers were constantly busy taking photos of every room or object that interested him. As we moved gingerly along corridors and in and out of rooms, I felt like a commando in a war zone, clearing out the last resistance I might encounter.

 For a moment I began to imagine how things used to be in this now God-forbidden place I’d stumbled upon. It had once been a thriving maternity unit, many of the older residents of the village and wider community would have been born here. I pictured nurses hurriedly moving in and out of wards and  porters taking patients along corridors in wheelchairs or delivering nappies to the wards.  Doctors in white coats with stethoscope and clipboards on ward rounds. Amidst the groans or screams , the soft cries of the newborn and mothers suckling their young at their breasts. Unbelievably this dead space had once echoed to the buzz of life.

“What was that?” shouted Tim , breaking the eerie silence at last.

“What?”

“There it is again !”

Now I could hear it. Something tapping in the next room. Momentarily I froze. I crept towards the room and timidly put my head around the corner of what was once a bathroom. A bath was   on its side, a toilet pan and cistern lay inelegantly upside down  and a tangled mass of pipe work adorned the walls. The noise turned out to be no more than a piece of plastic flapping in the draught caused by a small gap in the wall. More pictures taken, we moved on room by room. In the midst of this ‘battlefield’ were scattered further stark, poignant reminders of a past life: a half used bottle of Johnson’s baby oil, an empty circular-shaped medical cabinet, electric sockets hanging from their fittings and long armed,

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angle poised bedside lamps that looked like the limbs of a metal dinosaur. In Ward 3B ( the ward nameplates still attached to the doors) my eyes fell on a remarkable object. There, placed on top of a pile of planks and beside a huge pool of water , was a small artificial Christmas tree. I smiled at the thought that this might well have been left over from the very  last children’s party ever held here all those  years ago.

 Tim gestured to me to investigate something he’d discovered at one end of a corridor. “Shall we take the lift?” he joked pointing towards an open   shaft with a lift cage suspended between floors. “I think I’d rather take the stairs on this occasion, “ I retorted, chuckling. We duly walked up the staircase to the  first floor. It looked solid enough . Soon we were outside the upstairs rooms. I found them much lighter than those we’d already been in. The windows, although broken, were uncovered and I was even able to pause a while at one of them to take in the pleasant views of   distant mountains and villages, views that must have long ago lifted the spirits of those in confinement.

I turned.

“ Steady ,what are you up to now? Haven’t you taken enough pictures yet?” I offered, knowing full well that I would be totally ignored. Tim had found a walk-in store room with the door half open. He pulled on the handle and it opened fully. We both gasped and  I recoiled abruptly, stepping backwards , almost falling. Inside this closet was a tent, fully erected, similar to the pop-up ones I’d seen on the beach. I tried to regain my composure and turning to Tim I said quite softly but firmly “ Do not go anywhere near it. I do not want to dist.. discover what’s inside , thank you. Let’s move on..”  He readily  agreed,  but not before taking his statutory picture. A few minutes later and we had completed our exploration but just as we neared the end of the first floor corridor we were confronted with more evidence of recent occupation. In a large recess lay a massive pile of old clothes, a sleeping bag and even a copy of the Daily Mirror. Above this , left  dangling from a door, was a pair of jeans as though left to dry. We stared at each other and without a word knew it was time to beat a hasty, if somewhat precarious, retreat.

Within minutes we had exited by the same way we had entered and nonchalantly strolled back down to the car. Hungry and thirsty we couldn’t wait to get home. On the journey back we had much to talk about. It   was definitely ‘mission accomplished,’  Operation Photoshoot had been a success. Tim’s teacher was delighted with the photographs that he proudly showed her at school.

A couple of months later he was awarded the A* he’d aimed for  __ but I rather think I deserved at least an A for Assistance.

 

 

Author's Note

My son had to do a photo shoot and chose a derelict building as his project. What followed was quite interesting as I got very much involved. Since I once worked in a hospital a long time ago it also brought back memories. Anyway we survived to tell this story.