Nantes, Saturday 11 April 2017
The next occasions happened within the late eighties and early nineties. Susan Blake was a younger ophthalmology pupil and Prof Peter Eustace was her boss. She wrote a sequence of letters about him to her mom (who was affected by Alzheimer’s Illness) from France after he died, and Irish Medical Occasions has reproduced a few of that correspondence right here – together with a poem by Oliver St John Gogarty that he used to recite. What follows are ‘snapshots’ of the person and the medic…
By Susan Blake
Prof Peter Eustace (1936-2014)
Snapshot #1
Mater Out-Sufferers
July 1987
Prof Eustace and I obtained off to a foul begin as a result of on my very first day within the Mater Eye Division I broke his ophthalmoscope. First day in a brand new job, I used to be understandably reasonably tense. Eager to make impression. We had been in OPD and he known as me over to point out me a affected person and I leapt to consideration. He handed me the ill-fated instrument and I couldn’t work out the way to flip it on so I attempted brute drive … and I broke it. He was dismayed. It beggars perception, he stated plaintively. I’ve had that ophthalmoscope for twenty years and you’ve got been right here for (taking a look at his watch) solely twenty minutes and you’ve got managed to interrupt it. Mortification!
Snapshot #2
Saint Elizabeth’s
August 1987
Then there was my sense of humour, which he discovered puzzling at first. For instance. It’s 8:00am and he comes breezing into Saint Elizabeth’s (the attention ward within the Mater) and there I’m, however I’ve solely simply arrived myself, and he says, Susan! How are the sufferers? Nicely, I don’t know so, taking part in for time, I reply, gravely, They’re doing simply wonderful, Professor, thank God! Initially, he simply offers me a glance askance and it’s clear that he’s considering, Good grief! Is she a non secular maniac? Ultimately, he turns into exasperated. It is a hospital, not a church! he cries. Cease bringing God into it, for goodness sake! Lastly, he realizes I’m joking.
Above and high: Susan Blake
Snapshot #3
Saint Elizabeth’s
August 1987
It’s early within the morning (I’ve been on name) and I’m by myself within the eye room with a affected person. His identify is Gleeson and he’s in his sixties and he has undergone bilateral vitrectomy for diabetic retinopathy and he’s blind, mainly. I’ve checked his eye stress and I’m accompanying him again to the ward and there, on the nursing station, is a fantastic bunch of daffodils. There’s no one round so I say Mister Gleeson! I do know you may’t see them however … and I clarify. And your man is delighted and, squeezing my palms enthusiastically, he says, Describe them to me! Which I do. After which, to my horror, (I assumed we had been alone!) up pops the Professor’s head from behind the station.
He had been bent over a chart which was why I hadn’t seen him. He simply seems to be at me, speechlessly. Mortification! Once more! However that is a lot worse than a damaged ophthalmoscope! Susan Pollyanna Blake! Twittering on about daffodils! The disgrace of it! I wish to say I didn’t know you had been there! I used to be simply making an attempt to be good! However there’s no level. So I say nothing. And throw Gleeson onto his mattress.
Snapshot #4
Working Theatre
Might 1988
Wednesdays had been his working days. I frequently assisted and the anaesthetist was often John Magner. The 2 of them had been mates. They used to go off on crusing holidays with their buddies (they had been each members of Dun Laoghaire Yacht Membership), they usually used to go to the rugby matches, they usually had been nice enjoyable. Generally I’d be so busy chatting to Magner that I’d neglect my duties and Professor Eustace would get peevish. Susan! You are supposed to be serving to me! If it’s not an excessive amount of to ask, would you thoughts reducing this sew?
Snapshot #5
The Christmas Social gathering
December 1988
He really does an imitation of me on the 1988 Christmas Social gathering. And that is Susan, aiding me within the working theatre. And he sits up on a barstool and swings his legs to at least one facet (I used to do this! You’re not meant to do this!) and crosses them, and waves his arms round, on a regular basis speaking nineteen to the dozen. After which, he says, I ask her to moisten the cornea – and he or she drowns me! Priceless! I laughed until I cried.
These Mater Hospital Christmas Events had been sensible. They’d go on for the whole month of December. Each workforce had their occasion. The French don’t have Christmas Events. I’ve been working within the Centre Medical Mauvoisins for twenty–5 years and in all that point there has by no means been a Christmas Social gathering. Not that I’d go if there was, they’re such a dreary crowd. The French know the way to reside, it’s true, however they’re no craic.
Snapshot #6
The Eye Room
April 1989
He was all the time making an attempt to get me to do analysis. Analysis! Me! Bringing work dwelling! Spending weekends studying The British Journal of Ophthalmology! Not a hope in hell. I’d be sitting within the Eye Room, doing my paperwork, minding my very own enterprise, and in he would come, and off he would go. Susan! I’ve simply the analysis challenge for you! I’d rebuff every try, gently however firmly. I’m afraid I can’t, Professor. It’s not that I don’t wish to, it’s simply that I don’t have the time. His face!
Snapshot #7
Beaumont Hospital Cafeteria
October 1989
Generally we went for espresso collectively and we had some fascinating conversations however there may be one I bear in mind specifically. The topic was love. On the time I had this loopy concept in my head that there was one man on the planet for me. How on earth was I going to seek out him? I used to be Elizabeth Bennet, on the lookout for Fitzwilliam Darcy! I used to be Anne Shirley, on the lookout for Gilbert Blythe! I used to be Maria (don’t know her surname), on the lookout for Captain Von Trapp! And, most of all, I used to be Jane Eyre, on the lookout for Edward Fairfax Rochester! (I used to be affected by irritation of the limbic system, the results of studying too many novels). Prof Eustace was making an attempt to make me see sense.
I bear in mind simply what he stated. Susan, cease complicating issues! It’s actually fairly easy. Discover a fellow you want, a person with no main faults. I don’t imply somebody good, no one’s good, I imply somebody with no main faults. For those who discover a fellow you want, with no main faults, then the whole lot is feasible. (Generally I used to seek out myself questioning, idly, if having a mad spouse within the attic would essentially represent a serious fault?).
It appeared to me on the time that he was stating the bleeding apparent. However he was somebody I listened to and his phrases stayed in my thoughts. And now, in fact, they make eminent sense; and I quote them regularly. However in these days I had satisfied myself that love was an unattainable summit, an unimaginable dream. Susan Don Quixote Blake! I had made up my thoughts. However I, being younger and silly, with him wouldn’t agree. Often he would point out his spouse, Margaret. He used to say that he had beloved her when he married her however that he beloved her much more now, after twenty-five years of married life and 5 youngsters. He was a really uxorious man. (Think about, the French don’t have a phrase for uxorious! Are you able to consider that?)
Snapshot #8
Chez Eustace
July 1990
As soon as, I can’t bear in mind the circumstances, I went to his home for dinner. He lived in Glenageary, not removed from his beloved Yacht Membership. On the finish of the meal he stated, Take heed to this, Susan, that is my favourite poem of all time! And he learn Ringsend to me. Margaret was not impressed however I used to be, very. What a beautiful poem! And what a beautiful favorite poem for a person to have! It speaks volumes. (Value reciting within the stunning French kindly present by Susan – Ed)
Snapshot #9
Mater OPD
November 1990
I had informed him I used to be considering of going to reside in France however I don’t suppose he had taken me significantly. Once I obtained the letter telling me I had a job in Caen College Hospital, I confirmed it to him. That’s it, Professor, I’m going to France, I informed him. He peered at me sadly by his specs and he stated, I don’t know what to say. He learn the letter. When he had completed he handed it again to me and he stated, and I’ve by no means forgotten his phrases, Susan. Take heed to me. Keep in Eire. Marry Jim and keep in Eire. France is for holidays. He knew about The Evils of Emigration and he tried to warn me. However I used to be younger and silly, and now am filled with tears.
Oliver St John Gogarty (1878-1957), writer of ‘Ringsend’, as painted by William Orpen in 1911 (element).
Snapshot #10
Dorset Road
June 1991
He informed me that he had hemochromatosis. He stated that he had been having joint issues for quite a few years and that his rheumatologist had sadly didn’t make the analysis. He stated that in January he had inexplicably set off the metallic detector in Dublin Airport. And that, one morning in March, he had been strolling within the door of the Mater Personal when some lady he knew crossed his path and he or she stated, Good day, Peter! You’re trying very bronzed! And that’s when it hit him. Bronzed! Metallic detector! Bronze diabetes! Expensive God, I’ve haemochromatosis! Which was subsequently confirmed. The pity of it was, he had finish—organ injury. In depth iron deposits within the coronary heart, within the liver, within the joints. He figured he had in all probability misplaced ten years off his life.
Snapshot #11
Merrion Street
June 1991
And we talked about me going away after which we obtained again within the automotive and he dropped me off on the Merrion finish of Shrewsbury Street (I will need to have been going to my mother and father’ for dinner). And we stated goodbye and wished one another luck and that was that. Partir, c’est mourir un peu.*
Snapshot #12
Mater Personal
December 1991
After 4 months in France I got here dwelling for Christmas. You had informed me that Prof Eustace was within the Mater Personal recovering from hip substitute surgical procedure. I took a taxi from the airport and popped in to see him. I knocked on the door of his room and he stated, Are available! And there he was, mendacity in mattress, with a pair of crutches propped up in opposition to the wall. We had an awesome previous chat. He wished to listen to all about France. He was thrilled to study that the French have eye drops for cataract! And for squint! And that what we name Horner’s Syndrome, they name Le syndrome de Claude Bernard – Horner!
He informed me that he had been informed that he might by no means drink one other drop of alcohol. Not beer, not wine, not whiskey, nothing. As a result of his liver was in a fragile state, what with the haemochromatosis. I used to be suitably appalled. This was a person who beloved his pint. My coronary heart went out to him. He learn me a poem (a lament!) he had written known as For I’m a Drinker Misplaced To Drink. (He used to say, You’re the one one who listens to my poetry! My household run for canopy!) There was a verse about beer, after which a verse about wine, after which a verse about whiskey. And every verse ended with the chorus For I’m a drinker misplaced to drink. Completely sensible. I want I had a duplicate.
Nicely, that’s all, people. Just some souvenirs idiots mats qui donnent un peu de iumiere les jours de ptuie**. So far as I’m involved he would have been the best husband, that’s to say, if it wasn’t for Margaret and the 5 youngsters. Hey, no one’s good! I’ve been informed that for the previous few years of his life he was very diminished, mentally and bodily, however once I consider him I see him together with his buddies, on their boats, on a glowing Greek sea, Aegean blue, their white sails full of love.
You are taking care, Mum. I hope you benefit from the poem!
Tons & numerous love,
Susan
* This citation could be very well-known in France however the poet, Edmond Haraucourt (1856-1941) isn’t. For these whose French is a little bit rusty it means: “Leaving is a little bit like dying”.
** This citation is from the 1981 tune ‘La Ballade Du Mois D’Août’ by modern French singer and songwriter Charlelie Couture. It means: “Silly recollections, however they brighten up a wet day.”
