Life on an Orkney Island: Our Boating Doctor and the Flying Ambulance

14 November 2001. At 9:45 p.m., at the beginning of the monastic Great Silence (which lasts from 9:30 p.m. until 7 a.m.), Br Marcel-Marie, the monastery infirmarian, hears a knock on his door on Papa Stronsay. Opening the door, he finds Br Columba, the monastery cook, stooped over in pain. He had not been feeling well since yesterday morning, but he thought that it was only stomach flu. The pain now, however, was far worse, and he comes to ask for help. Br Marcel-Marie tells Br Columba to return to his cell to rest, and then telephones Dr Buchan at his surgery on the neighbouring isle of Stronsay. The Doctor being out, Mrs Buchan receives the call, takes down the description of the symptoms and asks Br Marcel-Marie to call back at 10:30.

Dr Buchan generously made the trip across Papa Sound during a stormy night to see Br Columba. Thanks to the Doctor’s goodness, Brother was able to be flown into hospital within two hours.   The paramedic plane which flew from Kirkwall to Stronsay in near gale winds. Without the dedication of the pilot and the paramedic, Brother would not have been able to be admitted to Balfour Hospital the same night.   Mr Stevenson’s boat the Hopeful. With the help of “the Boatman of Stronsay”, Dr Buchan was able to brave the storm and cross over to Papa Stronsay.   Br Columba Maria, C.SS.R. Two weeks after his appendectomy, the monastery cook has returned to his kitchen.

Meanwhile, around 10:00 p.m., at St Clement’s House in Whitehall Village on Stronsay, Fr Michael Mary is sound asleep in bed. The telephone rings. It is Fr Anthony Mary, calling to say that Br Columba is ill and that they are awaiting Dr Buchan. His wife had paged him at once and he is on the way. Fr Michael Mary asks Father to keep him informed of developments.

Around 10:20, Br Marcel-Marie sees two red and green lights coming closer across Papa Sound. The night is fiercely stormy, the wind blowing a near gale at 50 mph. Thinking that it is the monastery boat Stella Maris coming to Papa Stronsay, Br Marcel-Marie calls to her on the CB to say that the Papay pier is too dangerous to land at, and to moor in the bay instead. But there is no reply. Brother runs out to the work shed to turn on the generator, and a moment later lights are shining across Papa Stronsay. Next, Fr Anthony Mary and Br Louis Marie run out to the bay; but a moment later they realise that the boat – which is much larger than the Stella Maris – is not headed for the bay, but to the wave-splashed pier! They quickly run across to throw the ropes to Mr Stevenson, who has brought Dr Buchan across Papa Sound in his boat the Hopeful. The Doctor had not even waited for Brother’s return call, but generously decided to brave the wind and waves and cross over to Papay with Mr Stevenson, who is familiarly known as “The Boatman of Stronsay”. As Br Marcel-Marie helps Mr Stevenson to secure the Hopeful to the dangerous pier, Fr Anthony Mary leads Dr Buchan to Br Columba’s room.

By now, the pain is intense. Dr Buchan, after washing his hands, proceeds to ask a few routine questions. But Brother is in such pain that he can hardly answer. The pain is in the lower abdomen, and soon the Doctor is convinced that it is a case of acute appendicitis. He can do no more here. Br Columba must be taken to hospital. The Doctor calls Aberdeen, requesting permission for an aeroplane to fly to Stronsay from Kirkwall on Mainland Orkney in the middle of the night. Permission is granted, provided the wind is not actually a gale.

Next, Br Columba must be taken to the Hopeful. The stretcher that Dr Buchan had given the monastery a year ago (“You never know when you might need it”) is now dusted off, and Brother is laid down on it, covered with woollen blankets. A few of the confreres have awoken, and help carry poor Br Columba down the hill, down the pier and gently lay him down on Mr Stevenson’s boat. Providence has arranged that it is high tide, and boat and pier are almost on the same level.

Meanwhile, around 11:15 p.m., Fr Michael Mary has received another phone call from Fr Anthony Mary, advising him of the seriousness of Brother’s condition, and saying that six confreres will be needed on the Stronsay side to pull Br Columba off the boat onto the Stronsay pier. In a moment, all the confreres in St Clement’s House are awoken, habits are thrown on, and everyone quickly makes their way down to the fishermen’s pier to await the return of the Hopeful. After what feels like ages, they still see no lights except those of Papa Stronsay beaming at them across the waters. By now, it is almost midnight. They run down to the main pier, where they see the two red and green lights of the Hopeful leaving the Papa Stronsay pier. They return to the fishermen’s pier, and after another eternity, the hopeful lights are seen around the corner of the pier. Despite the wind and rough weather, the Hopeful is treading the waters of Papa Sound with ease. She glides her way into the harbour, and confreres throw down the ropes to Mr Stevenson. Br Columba is lying on the deck of the boat, covered with an orange tarpaulin. Dr Buchan, clad in a luminous yellow windbreaker, requests permission to go ashore. A moment later, the confreres in the boat below are handing Br Columba to the confreres on the pier above, and soon the prone figure of our suffering confrere is ready to be loaded into the Doctor’s ambulance. His pale face peaking out from underneath his black woolly hat and orange tarpaulin, Br Columba smiles feebly and says that at least it is not so painful as it was two hours ago. Meanwhile, Dr Buchan announces that the plane will arrive from Kirkwall within twenty-five minutes, and then directs the loading of his patient into his van. The confreres climb in, and soon the slow cortege of ambulance and car are wending their way to the airfield on the north tip on Stronsay.

As they arrive, the lights of the little house are lit, and Mr and Mrs Hollick, the custodians of the airfield, have been awakened and they are prepared to help their neighbours at this late hour of midnight. In their land rover, they drive to and fro along the airstrip, setting out lanterns by which the pilot will be able to gauge where to land. They then return to the house to wait. Meanwhile, the confreres are in the car praying the Sorrowful Mysteries of the Rosary for Br Columba. The Doctor steps out of his van for a few minutes while Br Columba makes his confession. A few minutes later, out of the dark and gloom, a roar of engines is heard and two white lights, shimmering in the cold, are seen descending towards Stronsay. It is 12:25 a.m., and the plane is on perfect time. The pilot is in control of his aircraft; for while we see the wind tilting the wings of the plane up and down, she descends with sureness onto the airfield. As the plane taxis around, Dr Buchan drives his ambulance onto the airstrip, while the confreres follow on foot. Next moment, ambulance and aeroplane are both opened, Br Columba is brought forth only to be loaded onto the plane, where he is strapped down onto another stretcher for his midnight adventure. Brother asks the name of the paramedic. It is Albert – and the feast day of St Albert the Great has only just begun. Brother tells this to the paramedic, and says that he will say a prayer for him. The door is locked, and the pilot takes off with his passenger into the stormy night sky, bound for Kirkwall. Within ten minutes, Br Columba will be met by emergency personnel at the Kirkwall airport. From there, he will be taken to Balfour Hospital, where another doctor will prepare him for his operation which will take place later in the day.

As the confreres watch the aeroplane depart, Mr and Mrs Hollick go to collect the lanterns from the now deserted airfield. Dr Buchan leads the confreres back to Whitehall, but refuses our apologies for having inconvenienced him, saying that it is his duty, and that it is a pleasure to help. He returns home; and it is time for us too to think of bed. By now, we realise that Fr Anthony Mary and Br Marcel-Marie, having come across from Papa Stronsay, cannot return there at this hour of the night; moreover, there is no room for them in our rented accommodations on Stronsay. But Bill and Breda Miller are awake, having heard the messages being called across the CB waves earlier in the evening. They are more than willing to put our confreres up for the remainder of the night; and so a procession of three cars makes its way through Whitehall Village to the Millers’ home, there to see our confreres settled in at the early hour of one o’clock.

The lights of Papa Stronsay are still shining. Mrs Dorothy Carter looks out her front window, sees the lights across the water and pulls out her Book of Saints. “The monks are up late tonight,” she thinks. “Whose feast could they be celebrating with an all-night vigil?” Just a few doors down from Mrs Carter, Roy Goodram also sees the lights. “Do you think something might be wrong over on Papay?” he asks his wife. “Of course not,” Cora replies. “You know those monks. They’re always praying.”
Thanks to the generosity of so many people involved, both on Stronsay and on Mainland, Br Columba was able to arrive at Balfour Hospital in Kirkwall within two hours of Dr Buchan’s diagnosis. Such excellent emergency service is hardly conceivable in today’s large cities. Even on such a remote island as Papa Stronsay, we are only minutes away from a hospital. Here in Orkney we have the perfect complement of technology and social action. The generosity and helpfulness of so many persons – doctor, boatman, airstrip operators, pilot, airport staff, hospital staff, Stronsay neighbours – which have been shown to our community can certainly serve as an example to all parishes. Br Columba was able to be examined immediately upon his arrival at hospital, and his perforated appendix was removed by operation later in the day. He was released from hospital only five days later; and after a convalescence of two weeks, he is back in the kitchen again. Many thanks, too, to all our readers for your prayers for our community.†

Hoo the Cook Wis Teen Awey in the Middle o’ the Nite by the Bard of Stronsay		The Demise of the Cook in the Middle of the Night by the Bard of Stronsay
Many thanks are due to our local poet, who has kindly given us permission to reproduce his epic for your enjoyment in Catholic. The standard received English version has been graciously added by the author himself. On a gey coors nite two weeks ago, Wan o’ thi monks tik ill; Thi aal wir in a swither Ti get the Doctor’s skel. Bit Chek thi creelman duly cam An hed the Doc. fae hom – They tik Brother Columba ti the Isle Fae what he could be flown. Thi pat im intae ospitle An whipped his appendix oot; Brother Columba wis rileeved, O’ that thir wis no doot. Than his mind began ti wirk Is he lay in bed Wi nowt ti it for fower days, Jist drips o’ stuff insted. Hooever, this hed sparked a thowt An Brother Columba sin tik stok – And when tae Papay he gets back, Thi monks will get a shock. So, Fathers an Brothers, when he comes back An fur grub yu all assemble, As sin is you thi teeble see, Am sure yur herts will tremble: Instead o’ forks an plits an nifes, Thil be a line o’ drips – Thit proves the cook his won thi day An you hiv hed yur chips!		On a dark and stormy winter’s night In the year two thousand-one, A monk was taken very ill – Something had to be done. A problem this would not have been, Had there been a train Between the Isle of Papay And the inter island plane. The doctor and the seaman said They’d make the trip alone, And bring the monk onto the isle From whence he could be flown. At last he was delivered To the modern hospital On the Orkney mainland, Where he was installed. They soon had his appendix out, Recovery was quite good; But on the Isle of Papay There was very little food. The reason for this was, you see, The Brother was their cook – Until he’s fit to go to work, They have to live on soup. While he lay in hospital With no food for some time, He watched the drip that he was on, And a thought came to his mind. So, Fathers and Brothers, when he returns And for food you all assemble, When you all to the table come, I’m sure your hearts will tremble: Instead of plates and forks and knives, There’ll be a line of drips – You’ll know the cook has won the day And you have had your chips!

March 2002

At St Joseph's Kirk on Stronsay, the confrères lift the Monastery piano off the floor while its legs are unscrewed, in anticipation of transport to the Whitehall pier via Ingram Stout's tractor.		Fr Nicholas Mary, Fr Anthony Mary, Br Marcel-Marie and Br Wolf Maria (left to right) lower the piano, well wrapped in blankets, off Ingram's tractor and onto the trailor aboard the St Brigid barge.		On Papa Stronsay, Fr Nicholas Mary leads the postulants in carrying the instrument to its new home in the monastery refectory.

November 2002

All the way from Shetland this helicopter came to land on Papay to pick up John Friel
and take him to Balfour Hospital. The emergency services in the Islands are second to none!