ONE MAN'S BATTLE TO SAVE A HOSPITAL
One man's battle to save a hospital
Special report by Janet Devlin
LAWRENCE Rush gets very angry when people suggest that grief has turned his head.
His campaign to "save" Tyrone County Hospital is a highly emotional and illogical obsession, some say as a result of the murder of his beloved wife, Libby.
But, while he does not deny that her death in the Omagh bombing spurred on his own campaign, he insists the battle began well before the atrocity.
"I was talking to a high profile person about my ideas to safeguard the future of the hospital when I was accused of talking emotional crap," he says.
"My wife of nearly 40 years was dead only weeks. I buried half a face and a shoulder blade. If anyone was entitled to be emotional, I was.
"But, apart from that, I was talking sense. I've been a successful businessman all my life and I know what I'm doing. My plans are sensible, logical and financially sound.
"It's very easy for those who don't want to listen to say, 'He's demented, he's lost his wife and his business, he doesn't know what he's doing'.
"But I do know what I'm doing and I don't go away that easy."
The Omagh Self-Help Support Group committee comprises of nine victims' relatives. It has three elements: meeting victims' needs, safeguarding the future of the hospital, and participation in political decisions on the future of the town.
Lawrence and another townsman, Geoffrey Simpson, are the driving force behind the Save the Hospital campaign. In March, Geoffrey collapsed outside a local health centre with a brain haemorrhage. He feels prompt diagnosis from the county hospital helped save his life.
Both point out many elements which make Tyrone County Hospital a significant case: the geographical isolation, the demography of a wide and diverse area, the poor transport links.
The future of the hospital (a decision has been deferred for a year or two) is being considered as part of a strategic review of medical services in the Western Board area.
StH argues that the reorganisation of services in Londonderry, Omagh, Dungannon and Enniskillen is based on an outmoded and erroneous economic model being forced on the medical establishment.
"What has money got to do with care?" asked Lawrence. "Yes, it has got to be paid for, but ways to do that can and should be found.
"Health is an industry, an employer, a stimulus to further investment. Why are we pumping millions into businesses that are alien to us, and can't possibly survive long-term?
"Why aren't we pumping money into a business that we know a lot about? Why aren't we going into partnership with private enterprise? Why aren't we selling our services and training expertise to other countries?"
Lawrence and Geoffrey would like all three 'local' hospitals - Dungannon, Tyrone and Erne - to retain and upgrade their accident and emergency services, with specialisation in specific fields.
It is a lot to ask of any hard-hit health service. It is even more difficult, as the 'efficiency' train chunders on, to gain the ear of the level of officials who could make the difference.
The strain is showing. Lawrence Rush, who confesses he's ready for a break, looks like he's been through hell. He looks very tired, dishevelled and unshaven. He chain smokes and his hair needs combed.
"I haven't really slept since it happened," he admits. "I walk around the house until four or five in the morning. I go hyper if I lie down in the afternoon.
"I'm not much of a housewife, either, so the place can look a bit of a mess. There are so many coats slung over the bannister they look ready to topple off.
"The house is very old, you know. Libby and I always did it up bit by bit - we never owed anything on it. We always meant to build in the back garden, but never did.
"You can sit on the settee if you like. Libby chose it and I never liked it. It's too soft, you just sink into it. I prefer something harder."
The cluttered kitchen table, where Lawrence and his secretary work every day answering sympathy cards, is the nerve centre of the Save the Hospital campaign.
When he sits down, surrounded by his letters and Press statements and cuttings, he becomes a different man. A gleam enters his eyes, his face lights up and his white hair becomes the halo of an old testament prophet -the good old Irish kind who's not afraid to lose his temper.
"I don't want this hospital to turn into a cottage operation or a day clinic. I want it to survive and prosper as a permanent memorial to all the victims of the Omagh bombing.
"Who knows how many more would have died then, or how many will die in the future, if it closes. We owe it to our children and grandchildren to ensure this hospital stays open.
"I was arrested outside the Labour Party conference in Blackpool, you know. I kept shouting about health service cuts and a rather officious police woman told me to mind my language.
"I told her it wasn't my language, it was my accent," he laughed. "She called for reinforcements - about 20 of them -because I presented such a danger!
"The next thing they were trying to force me and my sandwich board into the back of a squad car - it was a comical sight, I can tell you.
"A senior officer rescued me. He even told me where I could catch Tony Blair coming out of the hotel, so I legged it round there to give him a hard time."
Mo Mowlam also got the rough end of his tongue when she visited Omagh some weeks ago to announce a revitalisation plan for the town.
"They wouldn't let us in to the council chamber -us, the relatives of the victims. It was all about business investment, there was only one mention of the hospital and victims.
"I demanded to get in to pay my rates, but that didn't work. Eventually, Mo Mowlam came out. She says: 'You've got me, I'm afraid.' I replied: 'No, I'm afraid you've got me.' And boy was she sorry.
"Clinton's another one. Here's a picture of him and me. He shook my hand and gave me his personal guarantee that the hospital would stay open. I'm going to hold him to that."
And, with Lawrence Rush, you get the feeling that he means it.
Save the Hospital Campaign Strategy
Concentrate accident and emergency services for the west at Tyrone County Hospital with an upgraded cardiac department or other specialised service
Development of paramedic training centre of worldwide standard based in Omagh
Air ambulance service for western area to transfer maternity emergencies to Enniskillen, the RVH for neurosurgery, or Altnagelvin
Introduction of mobile telephoto computer links to assist consultants in rapid diagnosis prior to direct transfer to a specialist centre.
Expanded first aid training for schools
Special report by Janet Devlin
LAWRENCE Rush gets very angry when people suggest that grief has turned his head.
His campaign to "save" Tyrone County Hospital is a highly emotional and illogical obsession, some say as a result of the murder of his beloved wife, Libby.
But, while he does not deny that her death in the Omagh bombing spurred on his own campaign, he insists the battle began well before the atrocity.
"I was talking to a high profile person about my ideas to safeguard the future of the hospital when I was accused of talking emotional crap," he says.
"My wife of nearly 40 years was dead only weeks. I buried half a face and a shoulder blade. If anyone was entitled to be emotional, I was.
"But, apart from that, I was talking sense. I've been a successful businessman all my life and I know what I'm doing. My plans are sensible, logical and financially sound.
"It's very easy for those who don't want to listen to say, 'He's demented, he's lost his wife and his business, he doesn't know what he's doing'.
"But I do know what I'm doing and I don't go away that easy."
The Omagh Self-Help Support Group committee comprises of nine victims' relatives. It has three elements: meeting victims' needs, safeguarding the future of the hospital, and participation in political decisions on the future of the town.
Lawrence and another townsman, Geoffrey Simpson, are the driving force behind the Save the Hospital campaign. In March, Geoffrey collapsed outside a local health centre with a brain haemorrhage. He feels prompt diagnosis from the county hospital helped save his life.
Both point out many elements which make Tyrone County Hospital a significant case: the geographical isolation, the demography of a wide and diverse area, the poor transport links.
The future of the hospital (a decision has been deferred for a year or two) is being considered as part of a strategic review of medical services in the Western Board area.
StH argues that the reorganisation of services in Londonderry, Omagh, Dungannon and Enniskillen is based on an outmoded and erroneous economic model being forced on the medical establishment.
"What has money got to do with care?" asked Lawrence. "Yes, it has got to be paid for, but ways to do that can and should be found.
"Health is an industry, an employer, a stimulus to further investment. Why are we pumping millions into businesses that are alien to us, and can't possibly survive long-term?
"Why aren't we pumping money into a business that we know a lot about? Why aren't we going into partnership with private enterprise? Why aren't we selling our services and training expertise to other countries?"
Lawrence and Geoffrey would like all three 'local' hospitals - Dungannon, Tyrone and Erne - to retain and upgrade their accident and emergency services, with specialisation in specific fields.
It is a lot to ask of any hard-hit health service. It is even more difficult, as the 'efficiency' train chunders on, to gain the ear of the level of officials who could make the difference.
The strain is showing. Lawrence Rush, who confesses he's ready for a break, looks like he's been through hell. He looks very tired, dishevelled and unshaven. He chain smokes and his hair needs combed.
"I haven't really slept since it happened," he admits. "I walk around the house until four or five in the morning. I go hyper if I lie down in the afternoon.
"I'm not much of a housewife, either, so the place can look a bit of a mess. There are so many coats slung over the bannister they look ready to topple off.
"The house is very old, you know. Libby and I always did it up bit by bit - we never owed anything on it. We always meant to build in the back garden, but never did.
"You can sit on the settee if you like. Libby chose it and I never liked it. It's too soft, you just sink into it. I prefer something harder."
The cluttered kitchen table, where Lawrence and his secretary work every day answering sympathy cards, is the nerve centre of the Save the Hospital campaign.
When he sits down, surrounded by his letters and Press statements and cuttings, he becomes a different man. A gleam enters his eyes, his face lights up and his white hair becomes the halo of an old testament prophet -the good old Irish kind who's not afraid to lose his temper.
"I don't want this hospital to turn into a cottage operation or a day clinic. I want it to survive and prosper as a permanent memorial to all the victims of the Omagh bombing.
"Who knows how many more would have died then, or how many will die in the future, if it closes. We owe it to our children and grandchildren to ensure this hospital stays open.
"I was arrested outside the Labour Party conference in Blackpool, you know. I kept shouting about health service cuts and a rather officious police woman told me to mind my language.
"I told her it wasn't my language, it was my accent," he laughed. "She called for reinforcements - about 20 of them -because I presented such a danger!
"The next thing they were trying to force me and my sandwich board into the back of a squad car - it was a comical sight, I can tell you.
"A senior officer rescued me. He even told me where I could catch Tony Blair coming out of the hotel, so I legged it round there to give him a hard time."
Mo Mowlam also got the rough end of his tongue when she visited Omagh some weeks ago to announce a revitalisation plan for the town.
"They wouldn't let us in to the council chamber -us, the relatives of the victims. It was all about business investment, there was only one mention of the hospital and victims.
"I demanded to get in to pay my rates, but that didn't work. Eventually, Mo Mowlam came out. She says: 'You've got me, I'm afraid.' I replied: 'No, I'm afraid you've got me.' And boy was she sorry.
"Clinton's another one. Here's a picture of him and me. He shook my hand and gave me his personal guarantee that the hospital would stay open. I'm going to hold him to that."
And, with Lawrence Rush, you get the feeling that he means it.
Save the Hospital Campaign Strategy
Concentrate accident and emergency services for the west at Tyrone County Hospital with an upgraded cardiac department or other specialised service
Development of paramedic training centre of worldwide standard based in Omagh
Air ambulance service for western area to transfer maternity emergencies to Enniskillen, the RVH for neurosurgery, or Altnagelvin
Introduction of mobile telephoto computer links to assist consultants in rapid diagnosis prior to direct transfer to a specialist centre.
Expanded first aid training for schools
Further Information
Publisher: BELFAST TELEGRAPH
Ref: BT/0507
Published Date: 18-Nov-98
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