Tags

,

In one of the hospital corridors where I work there is a ‘Memory Walk’ to help those with dementia who might pass by. I have to walk along this corridor to get to the office where I am currently stationed, and I must say it’s like being back in my younger life for the minute or so it takes me to reach the office.

Amongst others, Margaret Thatcher beams at me, and Bjorn Borg holds his Wimbledon prize aloft. Virginia Wade holds the Women’s Plate wearing her pink cardigan in the Queen’s silver jubilee year. There is also an enlarged picture of the old Sainsbury’s shop front that I remember when I was a girl in the East End of London. The Beatles in their heyday stand next to younger editions of The Rolling Stones, then the bad boys of Rock. Toothy Ted Heath grins, and Harold Wilson smokes his pipe. The Queen and Prince Philip, 50 years younger, wave from their balcony at Buckingham Palace.

I must be getting old, as all my previous life is on that wall and is now just a memory to take out and polish sometimes. The people that filled my younger life are now all gone, and now instead of my father being around I am left seeing his face in my youngest son and in two of my grandsons. My mother’s musical and writing ability lives on in me, one son, and also in two of my grandchildren.

My life flashes before me in that corridor. One day I will be just a memory to my own family. We leave behind a memories of what we said, what we did, and how we made others feel. I hear my sons talk to their children and come out with statements that I once said to them. The grandchildren roll their eyes, just as my sons did. What goes around comes around.

I’m always relieved to leave the Memory Walk and go into the office, because the pictures I see every time I go to work make me think of past events I enjoyed with people I’ll never see again. I haven’t got dementia and to be constantly reminded of my younger life isn’t good. As much as I am able to I prefer to live in the present, but this corridor is making me live in the past.

There’s no other way to get to my office other than to walk down this corridor. Perhaps I’d better buy a pair of blinkers!