Unravelling Oliver(25)
Many years ago, I went into town for a meeting with a publicist and I was early. It was a beautiful, warm summer’s day, and I decided to take a walk through St Stephen’s Green. As I passed the children’s playground, I saw Stanley pushing a little boy on a swing. The likeness was extraordinary, though the little boy was not cursed with the facial discolouration of his father. Stanley was older now and there were flecks of grey in his hair, which he still wore in a long fringe in a futile attempt to cover the mark.
Stanley could not take his eyes off his son, as if he could not believe his luck. He and the boy were in their own world, oblivious to this strange man watching. The boy threw his head back and laughed a hearty cackle as he swung ever higher, and I wanted to be him more than anybody else in the world. Just for a moment, to exult in a father’s love and attention. Then the boy stopped the swing, scuffing his little sandals into the gravel to apply the brakes. He jumped off and ran to a red-haired lady sitting on a bench nearby. Her lipsticked mouth grinned at the boy and she scooped him up into her arms and he buried his face into the soft slope of her neck. I felt only envy.
I heard a loud cough right behind me, and when I turned to see a park-keeper in a soiled uniform glaring at me, I realized how it must appear – an adult solo male mesmerized by the children’s playground. We both thought of each other as a sick bastard and, incensed, I left immediately, stopping for a swift Jameson in Peter’s Pub to steady my cuff-buttoning hands before my meeting.
Perhaps I should have had children with Alice, but I knew that any child would only remind me of a small French boy so full of charm and mischief, and long dead. I might even have been a father figure to Alice’s brother Eugene, but something told me that if my father had so strongly disapproved of me, a strong and handsome and successful young man, then Eugene, an overweight mental defective, would have appalled him.
11. Eugene
St Catherine’s House
PATIENT NO: 114
ANNUAL REPORT: 17/12/1987
NAME: Eugene O’Reilly
DATE OF ADMISSION: 22/07/1987
DOB: 17/05/59
HEIGHT: 5 foot 8 inches
WEIGHT: 16 stone 9 lbs
HAIR: Brown
EYES: Blue
MENTAL CAPACITY: Eugene is of limited intellect with an estimated mental age of seven or eight years. He can’t read or write, although he likes to have books in his possession, and needs help dressing himself (buttons, laces). He can feed himself, although he must be watched at mealtimes as he will not stop eating until food is removed from him. Most of the time he can perform his toilet tasks without assistance. He has little interest in television but loves music, although his physical reaction to music can be upsetting to other residents. Eugene is unaware of his own strength and size.
HISTORY: Eugene O’Reilly was admitted in July of this year by his brother-in-law Oliver Ryan (the author Vincent Dax). Eugene was in good general health, although Nurse Marion reported some bruising to the upper arms and body. These marks were explained by Mr Ryan, who said that Eugene had often to be restrained after episodes of aggression. Mr Ryan very much regretted the incidents that led to these bruises but suggested that he had little choice in the matter, as Eugene was not capable of controlling his temper. Mr Ryan reported that Eugene had become violent and difficult since the death of Eugene’s mother in 1986 and that he could no longer be cared for in the family home, particularly in the light of a recent arson attempt that Mr Ryan insists was malicious. It was notable that there seemed to be some difference of opinion on this issue between Mr Ryan and his wife, the patient’s sister Alice Ryan. Mr Ryan maintains that his wife is unrealistic about Eugene’s abilities and propensity to violent outbursts.
ASSESSMENT: In adults with the type of moderate to severe learning difficulties Eugene presents, violence and aggression are unusual, but clearly Mr Ryan was correct in his assessment of Eugene, as he has displayed extreme aggression in his objection to being left in our care, and unfortunately two of our porters were required to take Eugene to the lockdown unit after Mr Ryan left. Eugene has had great difficulty settling into St Catherine’s and has caused major disruption among other residents. In particular, he attempts to pick up other residents while they are seated, running the length of corridors, holding them high above his head within their chairs. While this may be a source of amusement to some residents, to others it is terrifying and we cannot allow the health and safety of any of our patients to be jeopardized. Eugene has been reprimanded for this activity on several occasions and has reacted belligerently when physically restrained. Although we are reluctant to medicate Eugene to subdue his boisterous nature, it has become our only option.
Eugene is highly verbal at times, and at other times almost totally silent. Mr Ryan warned us that Eugene could not be depended upon for veracity, and indeed we have found that Eugene seems often to inhabit a world of fantasy in which he imagines that he is a prince of a magical kingdom. Through trial and error, we have learned that it is best to leave Eugene to his own devices.
In his first two months here, Eugene’s sister visited him almost every day, but her visible upset at leaving Eugene communicated itself to him and I took the decision to write to Mr Ryan to ask him to confine his wife’s visits to just once a week. Mrs Ryan cannot be dissuaded from bringing with her home-baked cakes and confectionery, which I think best to confiscate for the good of Eugene’s health.