Like many Edinburgh residents, I took my first breath in Edinburgh Royal Infirmary, in the Simpson Memorial Maternity Pavillion in March 1970.
This building overlooked the Meadows, and I used to pass it regularly during my childhood.
Every Thursday, my Mum and I would walk through the Meadows on the way to visit my Great Aunt & Uncle. We would pass the ‘Simpson’ and then, on the Middle Meadow Walk, we would pass the part of the Medical School that Mum used to work in. She would always point these places out, and as I got older, became able to recognise them.
The first time I ever went visiting in RIE was aged 5. My Great Uncle had been admitted to the ‘Skin Department’ with an infected wound on his hand. This ward was down the drive from the West Gate, and as most of the patients on it weren’t terribly ill, it was a good ward for a child to visit. I remember it as being bright and sunny with lots of chatter. Uncle was always glad when Mum brought me in and I think the other patients enjoyed being entertained by a 5 year old too.
However, one evening, we went in and discovered that Uncle had deteriorated and had been moved over to a medical ward. It turned out he had developed Septicaemia and Renal Failure. The medical ward was a very different entity- most patients were bed bound, many on oxygen and it had a very hushed atmosphere. Sadly, this was the last time I ever saw Uncle, as he took his last breath in that medical ward soon after.
Over the next decade or so, I visited many people in RIE. I always found it a fairly intimidating place- long corridors, high ceilings, and a very strong smell! The hospital always imbued in me both fear and fascination in equal measures.
Despite the fear, from an early age, I always wanted to be a Nurse, and fascination obviously won through, as I fulfilled this desire. However, I opted to leave Edinburgh and trained in a very modern hospital which was a complete contrast to RIE.
Returning to Edinburgh years later, the ‘Old’ RIE was no more- a new build on the outskirts of the city had replaced it, but I can’t walk through the Meadows without thinking about how many people have taken their first and last breaths in the buildings that lay between the Meadows and Lauriston Place.