Patrick G
For some reason, I always felt that a cautious welcome was extended to visitors. On reflection, I realised that the staff nurses and carers were protecting and shielding their patients. Back then, there was a tremendous stigma attached to this disease. Negative, homophobic comments abounded, including ‘the gay plague’.
My early memories of entering the ward was that those young patients appeared so aged and gaunt, with sunken cheeks and haunted, dark-rimmed eyes. I recall that the wards were bedecked with old-fashioned iron bedsteads, which were nonetheless covered with pristine white sheets and counterpanes.
I first came to London in the 1970s to undertake a Cert. Ed course at Garnett College and subsequently got a job teaching in one of the Central London colleges. My subject area included Food Service, which led eventually to running a training restaurant with around 80 guests a day. In this particular line of work, I came into contact with many people from the gay community, particularly students who were working in the hospitality industry.
At the time, I was living in a shared house with a few others, including one guy who was gay, into leather and doing the rounds of various gay pubs. We eventually entered into an on/off relationship, leading to us buying a flat together. My friend and many others in the gay community were overt in expressing their sexuality but in all honesty, as a practising Catholic, I was very confused. The pastoral approach which is now so compassionate and given with care and understanding, had not yet been developed.
Like so many other churches, generally speaking, the negative attitude to those who were seeking advice and support from their own particular faith group engendered a great deal of hurt and feelings of rejection. However, in spite of the church’s legal approach at the time, there were many non-judgemental individuals who would welcome them and help them to embrace their sexuality.
Eventually, after selling my flat, my friend and I had enough money to buy separate properties. Part of our ongoing social life included visiting gay-friendly pubs and, as a result, our own circle of friends increased and multiplied.
During the AIDS Crisis, a large number of people whom we met and knew well came to need palliative care and ultimately died at Mildmay. Many funerals took place – some of which had few mourners, as undertakers and clergy were reluctant to be involved. There was the additional pain of watching my dear friends dying after a prolonged illness (and related illnesses) which rendered them skeletal and helpless. When my own personal friend died, the impact on his family., including a sister and nieces, was massive, but they did acknowledge him to have been a generous son, brother and uncle.
Many times now, when approaching Mildmay, these thoughts enter my mind and heart. However, they are soon dispelled by the warm welcome on arrival and the greetings and exchanges with patients and staff in the wards and offices. My biggest problem at times is remembering everyone’s names. But no matter, I try to ensure that I extend a ‘hello’ to everyone.
The chapel at Mildmay is a beautiful place to share worship and also a place to reflect. Weather permitting, the Mildmay Garden (including ‘Smoker’s Corner’) is an invaluable outdoor space, so lovely for both patients and staff.
It is so inspiring when the members of the Mildmay chaplaincy team gather for meetings – Zoom ones presently! We come together from our various diverse backgrounds and churches but the thing that ties us together most is our commitment to our beloved Mildmay Mission Hospital.
August 2021
Patrick stepped down from the chaplaincy in 2023 and is very much missed