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An open letter to Guy Heath, head nurse at Castle Craig
Dear Guy,
When I recently saw the amazing, moving news read on the BBC site that you are back at work at Castle Craig in beautiful Scotland, it immediately occurred to me to write you a letter. A letter of gratitude in the broadest sense of the word. I wanted to sit down for that.
And that moment is now.
It was of course not just that you were on the BBC news site with a story. You had delivered a world-class performance. An effort comparable to swimming across the Channel with a heavy weight around your waist. You became infected with the Covid-19 virus in March last year. It started with a mild fever, but soon you ended up in the hospital's ICU, where you and the doctors formed an army that started fighting for your life. That same BBC did a report on the IC unit at the University Hospital Wishaw in Lanarkshire and when I saw you in that short report on April 20 and heard you speak cautiously while you were on a ventilator, tears came to my eyes.
In none of what I saw did I recognize you as the head nurse who, in Castle Craig, with your perfectly managed Smoking Cessation group, had made sure that I had quit smoking. Now more than 7 years later I still don't smoke. And I am grateful to you for that to this day. Not only because smoking costs a lot of money and is extremely bad for your health, but also - and you put that in dit movie perfect - that cigarette will make you feel like you drug of choice, whether it is alcohol or cocaine, that nicotine tastes like more. In that BBC movie, I didn't see in you the jovial guy who supposedly picked up his guitar with a sigh and sang and played songs for Castle Craig's patients. Every Friday evening. What I saw in that Covid report was a seriously ill man balancing between life and death. And to think that you were already on the mend back then.
When I got the great message that you could leave the hospital and a video showed up that you came home, I wrote there a blog over for Castle Craig. I ended that piece with: 'If people around me claim that Corona is the same as a flu, then I only have to think about the images of Guy in that Scottish hospital bed and I know what to do. Just let them talk and be glad that our troubadour can still sing. '
In fact, with that last sentence I expressed the hope that you would go back to work. But to be honest, I thought there was little chance of that. Because this virus will not settle in your cold clothes, especially if you have faced death and - to be honest - are quite a bit over seventy. And then I read the BBC piece that starts my letter. You made the impossible possible and returned to work as a nurse at Castle Craig at the age of 75. About your period as a critically ill patient in intensive care you say in the piece: 'I almost did not survive. But I kept having the same thought in my head: I'm not going to die. I was just determined to live. '
And about your recovery, you say, 'I wanted to get back to work, it was just a matter of building strength. I started walking with my dogs, but initially I made it less than 100 yards. Then I gradually built it up and built it up and now I walk about 4 kilometers a day. '
And this is when I want to let you know again that I am grateful to you. I myself am not one of the youngest either. There are sometimes days when I just let things go. But nonetheless, I'm happiest when I'm at it. Preferably also with things that make me and others happy, which gives life a certain meaning. I am sure you fought that way for your life in that hospital because life still had something essential to offer you that you cared about. Of course the people you love. But also your beautiful, valuable work.
Thank you Guy for showing me all of that.
Kind regards, Mick Boskamp
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An open letter to Guy Heath, head nurse at Castle Craig
Dear Guy,
When I read last week the wonderful, moving news on the BBC that you were back at work in Castle Craig, it immediately occurred to me to write you a letter. A letter of gratitude in the broadest sense of the word. But I was looking for a moment to extricate myself from the issues of the day.
And that moment happens to be now.
It was not for nothing that you were on the BBC news site with a story. You had delivered a world-class performance. An effort comparable to swimming across the Channel with a heavy weight around your waist. You became infected with the Covid-19 virus in March last year. It started with a mild fever, but soon you ended up in the hospital's ICU, where you and the doctors formed an army that started fighting for your life. That same BBC did a report on the IC unit at University Hospital Wishaw in Lanarkshire and when I saw you in that short report on April 20 and heard you speak cautiously while you were on a ventilator, tears came to my eyes.
In none of what I saw did I recognize you as the head nurse who in Castle Craig - with your perfectly managed Smoking Cessation group - had made sure that I stopped smoking. Now more than 7 years later I still don't smoke. And to this day I am grateful to you for helping me to quit. Not only because smoking is extremely bad for your health and cost a lot of money, but also - and you explain that perfectly in this video - because cigarette makes you 'hungry' for your drug of choice: alcohol and / or another narcotic. In that BBC movie I didn't see in you as the jovial guy (Guy) who supposedly picked up his guitar with a sigh and sang and played songs for the patients of Castle Craig. Every Friday evening. What I saw in that Covid report was an extremely ill man who was balancing between life and death. And to think that you at that moment were already on the mend back.
When I got the wonderful message that you could leave the hospital and a video showed up that you came home, I wrote a blog about it for Castle Craig Netherlands. I ended that piece with: 'If people around me claim that Corona is the same as a flu, then I only have to think about the images of Guy in that Scottish hospital bed and I know what to do. Just let them talk and be happy that our troubadour can still sing. '
In fact, with that last sentence I expressed the hope that you would return to work. But to be honest, I thought there was little chance of that. Because this virus can let a man parched, especially if you have faced death and - to be honest - are quite a bit over seventy. And then I read the BBC piece that starts my letter. You made the impossible possible and returned to work as a nurse at Castle Craig at the age of 75. About your period as a critically ill patient in intensive care you say in the piece: '”I did very nearly die, I just had this thought in my head the whole time - I am not going to die. I was just determined I wasn't going to die, basically. '
And about your recovery, you say, 'I started walking - I have got dogs - I walked the dogs but at first I couldn't manage 100 yards. Then I gradually built it up and built it up until I am doing about 4k a day these days. '
And this is when I want to let you know again that I am grateful to you. I myself am not one of the youngest either. Sometimes there are days when I just let things go. But nonetheless, I'm happiest when I'm at it. Preferably also with things that make me and others happy, which give life a certain meaning. I'm sure you fought for your life in that hospital because life still had something essential to offer you, that you cared about. Of course your loved ones. But also your beautiful, valuable work.
Thank you, Guy, for showing me all of that.
Kind regards, Mick Boskamp