Spending time in hospital can be scary and overwhelming; the last thing patients need is to feel lost. Hospitals are often tricky to navigate, but Christchurch has found a heartfelt solution to help ease the way. Seven Sharp’s Rachel Parkin went to see this lovely initiative firsthand.
His eyes were sparkling, and his smile was bright.
Murray Hayward’s greeting, although contact-free, felt like a warm hug.
“Hello! Lovely to meet you,” the pensioner said, welcoming us into his home at Archer Maryville Courts.
A sign on the door proudly read, “M & M Hayward”. I smiled sadly, aware that the second “M”— Murray’s beloved wife, Mona — was no longer with us.
“What was Mona like, Murray?” I asked as we settled into recliners.
“Wonderful,” he said. “She was very, very good to me.”
That should have been my clue to what was to come. As we rode the number 27 bus into central Christchurch half an hour later, Hayward smiled at or chatted with every single person he passed. He was undoubtedly “very, very good” to people, too.
And arriving at Christchurch Hospital, that goodness only intensified.
“Hello, this isn’t your day on is it?” asked a confused security staffer.
“No, no, we’re filming,” Hayward replied with a grin.
“Oh,” the man said. “Yeah, I thought you were Tuesdays and Fridays.” It turned out my new mate Murray was already a Christchurch Hospital celebrity.
His role as a “seated greeter” for the volunteer group, the Wayfinders, is cherished throughout the wards.
“Hello! How are you? Do you know where you’re going? Have a good day,” Hayward asked patients and their families, over and over, from his desk at the entrance to the Waipapa block.
It’s a role made for Hayward, one he found — thanks to Mona.
“Well, it started about 12 years ago, and Mona had bad kidneys,” he said.
Three days a week, Mona endured five-hour sessions of dialysis with Hayward at her side.
“And I had nothing to do, so Mona said to me, ‘Why didn’t I get a job here?’ And I thought, ‘Oh well, I can ask’, and they said, ‘When can you start?'”
That was eight years ago.
Since then, Hayward has had two strokes, making walking difficult. To support him, the Wayfinders created a seated role just for him.
“It’s one of those jobs that you think about the people and how much they mean to you,” he said. “I just love it.”
And Hayward’s not the only star. Around 80 Wayfinders work their magic throughout the hospital each week.
“It’s cheaper than the gym,” joked Wendy Cox as she powered down a corridor, delivering a soft blue dragon in a gift bag. “I’ve been doing this for nearly five years now… love it.”
‘Give something back’
For Sarah Scadden, hospitals had always been part of life.
“I used to work in a paediatric hospital in England,” she said. “It’s just the feel of hospitals and I just felt I wanted to give something back.
“And you just meet so many lovely people, and they’re always so grateful, and you go home and feel like you’ve done something for the community.”
Even the Wayfinders’ team leader, Maria Flores, had a selfless story.
The Argentinian native was travelling in New Zealand when she caught the bug.
“I only had a visitor visa and I decided I wanted to do something with my time, something meaningful,” she said. “So, I signed up for this, and I ended up loving it. They are amazing.”
Flores said the Wayfinders had “unique skills” that helped them calm people down.
“And it’s not just taking them [patients] to different appointments… it’s like, we’re saving money for the public system because they don’t need to reschedule if someone is late.”
Stationed at hotspots around the hospital, the volunteers direct, deliver, and chat in four-hour shifts. As Christchurch Hospital slowly undergoes upgrades, getting from A to B can be challenging.
“The Deans Ave carpark is an essential part of the service,” volunteer Hugh Isdale told me from the hospital’s busy entrance.
You could say Isdale is essential, too. He was an orderly at Princess Margaret Hospital for 27 years before joining the Wayfinders a decade ago.
“I’m fortunate I’ve got the kind of brain that makes maps,” he said.
“That is fortunate,” I replied.
“All I had to do was take on board this marvellous building here… which if you put Franz Kafka, MC Escher and John Cleese together and ask them to design a building… that’d be the one,” he said, gesturing to the building, while I stifled giggles.
Isdale said each Wayfinder did induction training before starting, learning the hospital layout and all the “graphics and ologies”.
Colposcopy has been the only one to stump him… ”which is for a particular female examination”.
“I thought they said colonoscopy,” he said with a grin. Isdale realised his faux pas within minutes and rushed to correct his directions.
All in all, though – whatever the region or department – the Wayfinders have you covered.
They get through and find a way because they love it.
The only part Hayward doesn’t love is getting up early.
“I go home and have a wee sleep,” he said.
“Fair enough,” I replied.
Mona sure would be proud of him.
