Archive
Author: Alasdair Renwick-Hale
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Recognition Took Longer Than Most People Assume
I remember sitting in a sterile hospital room in the late nineties, holding the hand of a man who had spent his entire life…
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Loyalty That Requires Silence About Harm Is Complicity
I remember sitting in a dim hospice room about fifteen years ago, the smell of antiseptic and stale lilies hanging heavy in the air,…
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The Year Was Organised Before Clocks Were
I remember sitting in a dim hospital room during a particularly brutal February, watching a man try to find meaning in a life that…
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Most Variants Are Spelling, Very Few Matter
I remember sitting in a dimly lit hospital chapel late one Tuesday, trying to find the right words for a man who had lost…
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Singing Together Does Something Singing Alone Does Not
I remember sitting in a small, drafty chapel during my third year as a chaplain, watching a professional choir attempt to carry a service…
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Protecting the Vulnerable Comes Before Protecting the Reputation
I remember sitting in a dimly lit hospital corridor at three in the morning, the smell of antiseptic heavy in the air, listening to…
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Confidentiality Has Limits and They Should Be Stated
I remember sitting in a dimly lit hospice room in the late nineties, the air thick with the scent of antiseptic and wilting lilies,…
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Repeated Words Carry You When Your Own Fail
I remember sitting in a dimly lit hospice room during a particularly brutal winter, watching a man struggle to find breath between the heavy,…
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Each Century Thought the Last One Sang Better
I remember sitting in a cramped hospital corridor during a late shift, the hum of the machines providing a sterile, rhythmic backdrop to a…
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Copying by Hand Leaves Traces
I remember sitting in a dim corner of a university library years ago, watching a young scholar insist with absolute, terrifying certainty that he…