4 - Friday, July 13, 1990 - North Shore News Maternity ward tour ends in a blackout SUDDENLY — HA, sharp readers that you are, by now you will have guessed that !°m starting this anecdote in the middle — suddenly ihere was a kind of guresing noise behind me. Like someone strangling on his, or maybe her, own blood. I swivelled round, resigned to witnessing a death’s head on some fellow human being's shoulders... But let us go back. My wife was expecting. I'd add ‘*again,’’ but it sounds so vulgar. As if she's popping babies every tenth month or so. She's a classier lady than that. Only three in five years. I’m the vulgar one, under the wax-thin surface of a life of cigars, whisky, and flowers. garden of biases Trevor Lautens Anyway, she calls me and, says she, they’re having a bit of a tour of the remodelled maternity ward at Lions Gate Hospital, and would I like to join her there and see it. Why didn’t you tell me, I says. I did, she says. Three weeks ago. Well, no wonder I forgot, I grumbles, Three weeks is a long time ago when you’re having fun. So I drove to the hospital after work. Late, of course. Into the lobby. Expected maybe half a dozen mums, one or two dads. Instead there was a right old mob. lin my office uniform. Suit, tie. Everyone else dressed like people do today. I loitered around the edge of the crowd. My wife saw me, nod- ded. How she heard my footsteps over the voice of the nurse ex- plaining things, I don’t know. All wives have magic faculties, at least both of mine have had. The nurse was just at the point where she was telling us, nicely, to move on. Follow her, she said. It’s amazing, the obedience of people. Everyone did. My wife straggled, allowing me to catch up to her, though we didn’t have much to say to each other. It’s not a talking sort of marriage, you know? I was gnashing hungry and thought, oh, good, I missed most of the nurse’s talk, brilliant repartee though it undoubtedly was, and we'll take a quick look around this new ward, mention how lovely it is compared with the old one, true or not, and get home on the double for a drink and supper. Then right to bed with the papers and a few books, and I'll be asleep by 7:30 and probauly awake by ! or 2 for another hour or two’s read, another sleep, then up by 5:30 or 6 as usual. it's a good routine, try it. instead, the next thing I knew, I raised up my eyes from gazing tenderly at my wife and lo, we were all filing into a lecture room of some sori, everybody scraping chairs — the folding kind used for bridge night at the community hail — and people fearful lest they have to sit in the front rows the way people are, and the nurse was snapping off the lights and begin- ning — a slide show! Ambushed! Entrapped! Ensnared! Betrayed! Look, friends, I wanted to stand up and say, this is where I came in. I've seen this one twice already, or its near cousin. Preg- nant mums. Young dads, half my age or less. Doctors. Nurses. Counsellors. Ail right, skirts up, jet’s hear what's going on in that tummy. Put this gizmo on it, look at the picture over there, and it's a lovely show. Now cut to the big night — dad driving white- knuckled to the hospital, whoosh down the hall, on to the bed, mum, fect in the stirrups... Now, no one could say I’m dead to the miracle of birth. Quite the contrary. And militantly an- ti-abortion, too. But, look, I’m 55 years old. Was notching up to my third child in five years — did I mention that? — and fifth over- all. I’m rehearsed, bloody rehearsed. I don’t need this slide show, I’ve been through it all be- fore, with the original cast. | could be directing this damn thing, not just sitting in the au- dience. My wife saw me looking wildly around the room for a bolt-hole to get out, get home, get a drink, get fed, and get to bed. And she smothered me with her patented tethal look of *‘if you embarrass me in front of this crowd of peo- ple I don’t know and will never see again, vours will be an unquiet grave, and your children will weep at the mention of your name.”’ So I slumped down and thought that there was much to be said for that, compared with being pinned in my folding chair for this stide show. All went miserably, until after an interminable time comparable to the Age of the Dinosaurs the nurse said, ‘‘Now, we'll look ata caesarean birth..."” Suddenly there was a kind of gurgling noise behind me. Like someone strangling on his, maybe her, own blood. I swivelied around, resigned to witnessing a death’s head on some fellow human being’s shoulders... Which, reader, is where you came in. A man seated behind me was slumped over, down for the count, chin on chest, lights out in a black faint. Emitting a noise like a fresh corpse rolled over on a battlefield. He’d passed out good and proper, and I stared at him, half in pity, half in envy. They’d have to stop the show, slap the life back into him, let him go. He’d be home soon, get a drink, get supper... No such luck. His wife looked anxious for a bit, and the nurse paused and stepped toward him in a professional manner. In a few seconds he came to. But somehow the mood was spoiled, and the lights came on before we were ex- posed to the marvel of the celluloid caesarian birth. Then — extraordinarily, it seemed to me — we all got up, including the revived man, as if nothing had happened. We trouped out to the hall and up to the maternity ward. Which, it turned out, was the old one — | knew it two-babies-well — because the new one wasn't quite finished yet. Our third was born there a few weeks later — nine weeks ago — so fast that I had no time to read Michael Holroyd's second volume of the life of George Ber- nard Shaw, which | had brought along in anticipation of a long night's siege. The birthing teain, or whatever it’s called, was exem- plary, as usual. Now, there is no use the hospi- tal writing angrily that Mr. Lautens is a backward beast, and that slide shows fike this are for the public good. [ know they are tor the public good, What I ques- uion is whether they are for my good. Nor did this one seem to do any particular good to the man behind me who was sandbagged off to Twinkle-land by all this stuff. And, upsetting as it is to pro- gressive thought, { am far from sure that a husband is very useful during the real thing. About as useful as tits on a bull comes to mind. You, reader, are welcome to protest that this is a beautiful moment in family life. Maybe. All! can tell you is that i have a memento of that night. Remember J mentioned having Holroyd’s life of Shaw with me? I left it on a chair well back of the scene of the action. So I was astonished when I picked it up. It was spattered with blood. Now, for God’s sake, don't pass out just thinking about it. es ity outd THE CORPORATIONS OF THE CITY & DISTRICT OF NORTH VANCOUVER SPRINKLING REGULATIONS REMINDER Regulations liniting sprinkling and other lawn and garden itrigation wili be elfective in the City and District of North Vancouver from May 15. 1990 to September 15, 1990 “Even numbered premises may water only on even calendar dates and odd-numberea premises on odd calendar dates. In cases Of newly planted lawns special permits may be obtained from the respective Engineering Departments for relief trom these restrictions.” E.J. Bremner, P.Eng. Dir. of Engineering Services Chuck Gale, P.Eng. City Engineer st-buys In B Sunglass Sale! Choose from one of B.C.'s widest selections of the biggest names, at unbelievably low prices! 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