Walking down past A&E one morning in 1963 I had little idea that the rest of my working life would be associated with the Royal Infirmary. As a probationary Physicist I started out without any medical training or even an O-Level in Biology.
Within days I found myself behind a trolley loaded with equipment heading down the ramp to the Simpson. The objective being to record foetal heart sounds using a monitor produced in Edinburgh by the firm Bruce Peebles. On very rare occasions we made recordings of the Foetal Electro Cardiogram. This was more difficult because the foetal signal on the mother’s abdomen was so much smaller than the mother’s own ecg. There was considerable relief when the baby’s ecg could be reliably identified but we had to go away in silence when this was not possible.
Dr David Simpson was Head of the Instrumentation Section in the Medical Physics Department and I witnessed his early work on the development of powered artificial limbs for children who had been affected by thalidomide. This eventually led to the formation of the Orthopaedic Bio-Engineering Unit at the Princess Margaret Rose Hospital.
Other sections within the Department contributed to advances in Nuclear Medicine, Oncology, Ultrasound and Magnetic Resonance Imaging. From 1967 I specialised in the design, construction and installation of patient monitoring systems for wards, theatres and clinics throughout much of Lothian. An installation within the 5/6 Orthopaedic Theatre Suite was a particular example within the Infirmary.
In the late 1990s all equipment users within Lothian Hospitals faced a major challenge – the so called ‘Millennium Bug’. This was the fear that some equipment containing an electronic date function might not be able to cope correctly with the change in year from 1999 to 2000. This took members of the Medical Physics team into most units of the Health Board to compile an inventory of electronic equipment and to identify those items that might be affected by the date change. In the event the millennium arrived and nothing happened. Had we done a good job or was it merely an unnecessary distraction?
Soon my forty years in service drew to a close and the various wards and theatres left Lauriston Place for the new Infirmary at Little France. Surprisingly I found myself identified as one of the longest continuously serving members of the Royal Infirmary Trust. Following a Thanksgiving Service in St Giles there was a Reception at the City Chambers where I was one of those who cut the cake.
Finally, on the day of handover of the keys I took a last walk through the empty corridors. Past the bust of George Drummond in his dusty alcove on the grand staircase. Then I heard the sounds of patient monitors signalling the need for attention. At the end of the corridor was a ward without either patients or staff but the equipment was still ready for action. Truly the end of an era.