by Jane Grant
I said, ‘God will look after them, Mike. And you too, because you’ve been a good man.’
‘No, I done wrong,’ he said fiercely. ‘I lie here and think of all my sins.’
I told him the priest was coming next day. He was quiet for a little while after that, and then he began to talk again: ‘I keep thinking of them. My Molly, she’s been so wonderful to me, and now she’s got to go through it. You don’t understand yet, Jane. You’re only a baby. You don't know what it’s like to love and be loved. There’s my children too. Oh, how’ll they all manage without me to see to them?’
I tried to comfort him. I tried to say the things he needed to hear, but both he and I knew there were no real answers to his questions. It was all going to happen, and no one knew why. He was going to die, and his wife was going to mourn him, and his children were going to grow up without him.
I saw he was in physical as well as mental pain, so I went and told Stevens, and she went off and found the houseman, who was in the ward, to ask if he could have some more morphia.
I went into the kitchen and cried. I cried for a long time, standing over the sink, so that if anyone came in I could pretend I was washing up.
After a while I heard the door open. My attention on the sink, I did not see who came in. Then a voice said: ‘Don’t cry. He’s not in pain now.’
I looked round and saw Gavin Scott. He had not long qualified, and this was his first house job.
I blew my nose and tried to grow calm. ‘It seems so awful,’ I said, with another sob. ‘He is so nice. And quite young. Why should he have to die?’
‘Why should anybody?’ said Gavin shortly.
I did not feel this was very consoling. I turned to my washing-up, and my tears flowed again.
Gavin came and stood close to me, he said in a quiet soothing voice, ‘Look, old girl. You have to take it. You have to accept these things.’
I pulled myself together. ‘I know,’ I said.
‘That’s better,’ said Gavin. ‘Now what I really came in here for was a cup of tea. Could you make me one ‒ not with salt water?’
Chapter Four
One night about twelve o’clock Daisy telephoned and asked Stevens if I had seen an operation. Stevens said no, so I was sent to main theatres where an emergency appendicectomy was to be performed. I hurried off, terrified lest I should be late, and was told to go into the dressing-room, where I had to put on a long gown that had no tapes, and that looked exactly like a sack. I couldn’t decide whether the cap was supposed to cover my ears or sit behind them; either way it looked terrible and my hair stood out like pig’s bristles.
I hurried into the theatre. There was nobody there. I thought for the moment I had come to the wrong theatre, but having checked the door number I knew it must be right, so I just settled down to wait. Some five minutes later a nurse came in and started boiling up the sterilizers. A bit later some students ambled in, yawning and grumbling. ‘Why can’t people get appendicitis during the day? Bet there’s nothing, wrong with her anyway.’
Eventually the houseman arrived, and a slight stiffening of backbones became apparent. This amounted to rigidity when the Registrar appeared.
‘Okay, Bill!’ he shouted to the Anaesthetist in the next room. ‘Wheel her in.’
Bill appeared, wheeling the trolley with the help of a student. ‘She weighs a ton,’ he remarked, as the students prepared to lift her on to the table.
‘What about you having a go today?’ said the Registrar, pointing to one of the students, who started slightly.
‘I’ve never done one before, sir.’
‘Well, now’s your chance, isn’t it?’ The Registrar sat on a nearby slab, knocking a dressing-drum off, and settled down to watch.
The student in question was called Charles Betterton, and was a noted mimic. His imitation of Daisy was considered one of the best turns at anybody’s party. He now looked rather pallid and said in the voice of a prosecuting counsel, ‘Mr. McCrae, did you force this defenceless and clueless boy to operate on the Deceased?’
‘Okay,’ said the Registrar. ‘I was only kidding. Bob can do it. You sew up.’
Charles then turned Irish and sang, ‘Sure I love the dear fingers so toilworn for me, Oh, bless you and keep you, dear Father McCree.’
‘Okay, forge ahead,’ said McCrae to the houseman, who started the incision.
I was hovering in the background, too frightened to look. Unfortunately, Charles caught sight of me.
‘Oh, what is yonder fair maiden doing?’ he inquired. ‘Come hither, pretty one, and have a butchers at your Uncle Bob’s handiwork!’
I timidly approached the table.
‘Don’t take the carving-up too much to heart,’ said Charles. ‘He’s only an amateur still.’ Then with a friendly arm round my shoulder he led me to a point of vantage, from which we watched the rest of the operation. Not only were all the finer points of the anatomy pointed out to me by Charles, in varying accents of Scots, Irish, German and one unidentifiable, but Mr. McCrae also recounted for our entertainment the adventures he had had when he took his family to Battersea Fun Fair. We had got to Emett’s Railway when the appendix finally hove into view.
‘Nothing wrong with it,’ said Bob.
‘Oh, hell,’ said the Registrar. ‘Take a poke round.’
Bob obliged by pulling out a large expanse of intestine. ‘Can’t see nothing here,’ he grumbled.
‘What about the stomach?’
Bob pushed his hand into the cavity. ‘All right.’
‘Liver?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Tubes?’
‘They’re okay. The uterus seems a bit anteverted, though.’
‘Well, make sure while you’re there, old man. We’ll transfer her to the Gynie firm in the morning.’ After the operation I was walking back towards Amos when Charles hailed me and caught me up.
‘Say, ma’am, you-all wasn’t figuring on crossing the prairie by yourself, was you?’
I said well, actually I had figured on just that.
‘Well, ma’am,’ he said. ‘Ah’d consider it a great pleasure if you-all would allow me to take yer arm, and show you back safe to yer little old shack.’
I declined the arm, but accepted the escort. Before we reached Amos he had invited me to a party. Not quite sure of the nature of the party, I said I could only accept if my friend came too. He said that was sho’ okay. The party was to be given by one of the dentists to celebrate passing an exam.
‘They sho’ is wild and woolly, them coyotes,’ he said, ‘but I’ll be mighty tickled if youse dames would figure on coming along.’
Some difficulty was experienced by Mary and me in getting the same off-duty, but eventually we fixed it.
Charles met us outside the gates with a very large dentist as an escort for Mary. We walked to the flat where the party was to be held; it was in the upper part of a house in a fairly respectable quarter.
The room was crowded with St. Bernard’s students and nurses. As we arrived the centre of attraction was the host, a young man with a pale face and curly hair, who was standing by a small table which was covered with glasses, holding one corner of the table-cloth and shouting, ‘Look at me!’
Two of his friends were trying to drag him away, while his girlfriend was beseeching them to stop him in time, as the glasses were borrowed.
‘Guy always tries this trick when he’s tight,’ said Charles. ‘It’s always a dismal failure,’ he added tolerantly.
At this point Guy said in quite a mild voice, ‘Unhand me, chaps. All I want to do is to show you my latest trick. Perfectly simple. All you do is look at me. All I do is do the trick.’
He seized his chance ‒ one of his friends having let go of him to raise a glass to his lips ‒ and whisked the cloth away. Miraculously the glasses, though trembling violently, still remained on the table.
Charles took us up to the centre table to eat. This was loaded with food, and in the centre was a colos
sal cake of three tiers; on the topmost tier was a set of snarling false teeth embedded in icing.
The party went on for some time; it was mostly a drinking orgy, with an occasional dance thrown in. Mary’s escort, who had up to that moment hardly spoken a word, after downing a large glass of whisky suddenly called out to the company in a bull-like voice, ‘I’m going to kiss my girl!’
He lunged at the startled Mary, who he had cornered by the main table. She leaned back to escape him, there was a sudden snap, and the false teeth on the top of the cake, which had been specially sprung, closed on the fleshy part of Mary’s shoulder. Mary gave a startled yelp, and the large dentist collapsed into apologies. Charles, gallantly unspringing the teeth, expressed a hope that they were not septic. Soon after this, Mary and I managed to escape.
Chapter Five
After night duty we went home for a fortnight’s holiday, during which I had to deal with my first home casualty. My brother Colin, returning from school with his football boots slung around his neck, ran down the road to catch up a friend, and one of his boots swung up and hit him smartly in the eye. It was a pity; I had never been taught how to deal with black eyes. I suppose the Sister Tutors felt they should not come into our range, not being quite respectable.
A bit later on that day my mother burnt her hand, and I did not know how to treat that either. The exalted position I had assumed in the family began to slip rather.
My father remarked that Matrons were not like they used to be in his young day. I said that had Colin had a pressure sore or required a bed pan or a vomit bowl, I could have dealt adequately with the situation.
We all got back to the hospital feeling very gloomy. All, that is to say, except Sarah, who lived in Northumberland and had received a special dispensation from Matron to get in late.
She arrived at one o’clock in the morning, at which hour, of course, the door of the Nurses’ Home was closed. There are, however, underground tunnels leading to all the main buildings in the hospital, and Sarah, in excellent spirits, set off down the one leading to the Nurses’ Home. The tunnels are rather dark and tortuous, and it so happened that Daisy, who was doing a night round, caught sight of a nurse ahead of her who she imagined was creeping guiltily in after the specified time of eleven o’clock. She shouted at her, ‘Wait, gal,’ and started walking to catch her up.
Sarah, however, did not wait, but gave an assumed start of surprise, and quickened her steps. Daisy called to her again and hurried after her. Soon they were both running, and Sarah, to add a spice of adventure to the occasion, started ducking in and out of the side tunnels, until they had both covered the entire underground. At last Sarah entered the Nurses’ Home, and ran along the corridors and up the stairs, until she eventually reached her room on the fourth floor. She then sat down on the bed to await Daisy’s arrival.
A few minutes later Daisy appeared, scarlet in the face and so exhausted that she sank gasping on the bed and could not speak for several minutes. Eventually she stuttered: ‘What ’je doin’ out at this time of night, gal?’
With complete calm Sarah smiled sweetly, and handed over her late leave pass. Daisy could think of no suitable comment and made a hurried exit.
In even higher spirits after this episode, Sarah rushed round to all our bedrooms, woke us up, dragged us out of our beds, and forced us to go to her room. We sat on her bed shivering and yawning; when we were all assembled and were sufficiently wide awake to know what was happening, Sarah whisked off her glove and displayed a glittering diamond engagement ring.
The exclamations which greeted this gesture were:
‘Cor!’
‘Crumbs!’
And ‘Gee!’
She protested, ‘Honestly, is that all you twerps can think of to say!’
‘Which one is it?’ asked Mary and I simultaneously.
‘Guess.’
‘The student with the buck teeth?’
‘No ‒ no ‒ the one with the funny eye?’
‘The one with funny finger-nails?’
‘I think you’re all vile,’ said Sarah, ‘and I shan’t tell you at all if you’re not careful. It’s Don.’
We all breathed a sigh of relief, and said thank goodness it was settled at last, as we were tired of hearing Don’s praises sung and thought Sarah might pipe down a bit now she was engaged.
She then produced from her case a miniature bottle of liqueur brandy and a colossal cake. ‘We’re getting married at Christmas!’
There was a howl of protest. ‘But you can’t not finish your training! You must stay and see us through.’
‘Want to bet?’ said Sarah.
‘What’s the rush?’ we asked.
‘Because we can’t wait.’
She then asked us all to be bridesmaids, at which we perked up considerably, and each wetted our mouths with liqueur brandy, which tastes disgusting when you’ve only just woken up.
Next morning Sarah and I were put on Samuel, a large children’s ward with medical cases. The ward was broken up into small compartments and each nurse was given about six beds to look after. One of Sarah’s patients was a little girl of three with chronic nephritis; she was very oedematous and uncomfortable.
Sarah, with her gaiety and vitality, could always make Alice happy, and soon the child would cry whenever Sarah was off duty. It got to the unfortunate point where Alice did not even want to see her parents; she wanted only Sarah, and when Sarah went to her bedside she would smile happily and say, ‘Nurse Baba.’
The poor parents, who came to see the child every evening, were unable to do anything for her, and they would leave little notes for Sarah. ‘Have put Baby’s Teddy in locker ‒ she won’t take it from me.’ ‘Dear Nurse “Baba”, will you please turn Baby on her side and make her comfortable for the night ‒ she won’t let me touch her.’
Apart from this single-hearted passion for Sarah, Alice was a very sensible child. She accepted her condition of extreme discomfort without complaint, and would obediently do whatever Sarah told her when she was being washed or fed.
The oedema got much worse; her stomach grew huge and shiny. The houseman told Sister that he had decided to tap her.
‘I know it seems awful to do it on a child of her age, but she hasn’t got long to live, and we might as well make her as comfortable as we can.’
Alice made no objection to this new and rather alarming experience; she lay quietly, holding Sarah’s hand. At the end of the proceedings she gave a little sigh, said, ‘That’s bettah,’ and closed her eyes. Sarah tucked her up and she went to sleep.
‘Wish they were all as good as her, said Sarah. ‘Poor good little kid!’
Linda, who was one of my children, was a year older than Alice, but not nearly so well-behaved. She screamed for any or no reason, and was practically unquellable. I was tidying her cubicle one day when two students came in.
‘Can we take a blood test of Linda?’
Linda looked dubiously at them. They advanced on her with caution. One of them cooed, ‘Just the weeniest little prick, Linda.’
Linda began to howl.
‘Linda like sweetie?’ suggested the other student ingratiatingly.
Linda showed no interest in sweetie, but went on howling. ‘Nursie like sweetie?’ asked the student, producing one from his pocket. My hands being full of Linda, he obligingly put it in my mouth.
The other student had a brilliant idea. He shouted at the top of his voice, to make himself heard above Linda’s shrieks, ‘How about your lighter?’
The lighter was produced, and the student started flicking it on and off. Linda’s sobs gradually died down as she gazed at it fascinated.
‘That’s wonderful,’ he said. ‘Now give me your finger.’
Linda misunderstood, and stuck her finger out for the lighter. She touched the flame, and fresh screams broke out.
‘Well,’ the owner of the lighter said, backing towards the door, ‘I think we’ll come back tomorrow, eh, Linda?’
They retreated, leaving me to think up new methods of occupational therapy. I heard one student remark to the other as they reached the door, ‘Maybe we’ll have better luck with the fifth one.’ To judge by the resounding screams which followed shortly this statement was optimistic.
One evening I was coming back from meeting a school friend, and as I got into the tube carriage, I saw Gavin. I did not know whether to pretend not to see him, but he came over and sat next to me.
‘How’s life, Jane?’
‘Oh, fine. What are you doing these days?’
‘I’m still on Parry’s firm. Where are you working?’
‘On Samuel.’ I made a face, and he grinned and said brightly, ‘And the best of luck.’
We talked about mutual friends, and I told him about the dentist’s party. ‘How’s Joyce Wallace going?’ I asked him.
‘Lousy,’ he said.
I cheered up considerably. ‘I thought you were practically engaged,’ I said.
‘Well, we’re not now.’
I hoped my face did not brighten too much.
We got off the train, and as we walked along the tunnel I saw an advertisement for a Festival Hall concert.
‘Oh, look!’ I cried. ‘They’re playing the Emperor.’
‘I like that, too,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’
I was overcome with amazement and joy. ‘I’d love to, if I can get off,’ I managed to say.
‘Good. I’ll leave you a note when I’ve made arrangements. You leave me one if you can’t make it.’
He then dismissed the subject and we talked about Charles Betterton, and how Daisy had found him doing an imitation of a Scots salesman selling ties at the door of the Medical Block at 1 a.m., surrounded by an admiring group shrieking with laughter and making the dickens of a row.
Chapter Six
Mary was working on a Men’s Surgical Ward, and one day a patient came in with a fractured femur. It was rather badly fractured, so he had to have specially adapted Balkan Beams to suit his type of traction. The foot of the bed was raised on blocks. To lift the patient it was necessary to assemble a team of six people; students were inevitably asked to help.