by K. Sue Roper
When I arrived in Kansas, I knew I needed to surrender my green active-duty military identification card to military authorities on the date of its expiration. I visited a local Kansas recruiter and told that person I would like to remain on an active reserve status with the intent of becoming a commissioned officer in the Navy Nurse Corps upon graduating from the nursing program. The recruiter was thrilled, but unfortunately there were no active reserve navy drilling units located anywhere in western Kansas. The best the state had to offer was an army reserve unit that actively drilled right there in Hays.
Although I felt like I was betraying my strong and steadfast allegiance to the navy, I chose to enlist as an E-4 (the fourth enlisted rank; in the army this is corporal, whereas in the navy it is petty officer third class) in the U.S. Army Reserve. I saw this enlistment as simply an opportunity to remain on an active military status during the time I would be in school and nothing more than a means to an end. My monthly weekend drill time was spent working in the various hospitals, where I also completed my clinical training associated with the various specialty rotations of the university’s nursing program. Everything was working out well the first few months, and from my personal perspective, being in the army was not so bad.
In the spring of 1981, eight months after joining the army, my reserve unit received orders to Fitzsimmons Army Medical Center in Colorado for its one week of intensive readiness training. This exercise was scheduled at the same time as my college spring break, and once again it appeared that everything was working out and that my status in the army was not interfering with my primary goal of obtaining my nursing degree.
As I waited with others in my army reserve unit to embark on our one-week training mission to Fitzsimmons, several seven-ton trucks rolled in. I was quickly issued basic army uniforms, which did not include any foul-weather or winter gear, and was harshly told, “Get your ass on the truck!” As we rode toward Colorado, the weather turned bitterly cold, and there was even snow on the ground. I was freezing, and without the proper gear that would protect me from the elements, I knew I was headed toward disaster and total misery. We had no tents, no berthing, no nothing other than the frozen, snowy mountainous ground on which to sleep. I could not help but reflect on all my dad had told me about that navy guarantee of always having a roof over your head and never having to sleep out on the open ground.
Immediately following that brutal, absolutely ridiculous experience—the true purpose of which still remains a mystery to me—I knew the army was definitely not for me. If this was an example of their slogan of the time, “Be All That You Can Be,” I knew I could and would be much more.
As soon as I returned to Kansas, I called the navy recruiter in Topeka and told him I wanted out of the army reserve. I knew without a doubt that I would gladly drive however many miles I needed to so that I could be with a navy unit, and I told the recruiter, “Just get me out of the army now!” The recruiter was well aware that my ultimate goal was to be commissioned as a Navy Nurse Corps officer following nursing school and was happy to hear in my voice the passion I continued to have for the navy. He quickly processed my transfer request, and I was thrilled when I was informed that I was officially out of the army, back in the navy, and attached to a reserve unit in Wichita, Kansas.
To continue and maintain my active-duty military reserve status would require me to get up in the wee hours of the morning once a month, to drive several hundred miles to meet up with my navy reserve unit. In addition, I would have to make numerous personal sacrifices not only to drill monthly in Wichita but also to execute the two weeks of annual readiness training held in San Diego. Drilling with the army may have been more convenient, but returning to the navy was like coming home again. I was back on familiar ground, wearing a navy uniform and communicating in navy lingo. (I was able to refer to the bathroom as the “head” rather than the “latrine” again!) I would continue drilling with this navy reserve unit until I graduated from nursing school, all the while feeling comforted and reassured that I was back where I belonged.
While attending Fort Hays University, I was required to obtain physical education course credits, so I enrolled in a running course. Running seemed to be a relatively easy activity, and I viewed at it as a relatively easy way to earn physical education credits. After all, how hard could it be to run a few hours a couple of days a week? Arriving at the first running class, I found I was the only female among a group of young men who were on the university’s cross-country team. Whereas they had all enrolled in the course to create additional time in their schedules to continue training and to maintain their competitive edge, my intent was much less ambitious. Still, I was young and in reasonably good shape, and I loved being outdoors and believed I could make it through the course unscathed and with the required credits that would be applied toward my nursing degree.
Our class would meet as a group at a designated area, and our coach would tell us how many miles we were expected to run that day. We did not run circles on a smooth, oval, man-made asphalt track; our running assignment was to run on uneven, primitive trails, up and down hills, through fields, out in the middle of nowhere. The cross-country guys would always be well ahead of me; often, I could not even see them. There was no way I could keep up, and many times they would wait for me or would complete their required miles and circle back to where I was, just so I was not left out in the exposed terrain with darkness quickly approaching. Their kind and compassionate actions spurred me to begin running faster because I did not want them to sacrifice their time and energy just to help ensure my own personal safety.
Before long these guys became my “running buddies.” We bonded as a group, always looking out for one another and motivating, supporting, and encouraging each other to achieve our personal best. The more I came to know them, and the more I ran, the more the passion for running seeped into my soul. The guys at Fort Hays University were very much there for me, motivating me to run farther and faster, and I soon found that I was in love with running and that it had become my own personal passion. Running provided me with a release, a sense of freedom and control, and an opportunity to think and put the various frustrations of life’s happenings into perspective. It gave me the sense of calm and serenity that I needed then and throughout my navy career.
The nursing program at Fort Hays University provided me with the education, knowledge, and general nursing foundation I needed and desired. I loved the science courses, and at my graduation in December 1982, I believed I was equipped with the medical and nursing knowledge, tools, and skills that would help me perform as a qualified, licensed registered nurse in the Navy Nurse Corps.
Before reporting to my first duty station where I would begin functioning as a nurse, I was required to attend Officer Indoctrination School (OIS) in Newport, Rhode Island. Following a brief visit with my family in Pennsylvania, I reported to the OIS in February 1983. Newport was bloody cold and would continue to be so for the next six weeks.
Having been enlisted earlier and having endured nine weeks of boot camp and recruit training, I found the demands of the OIS to be small in comparison. Our days were spent marching on the grinder, preparing for personnel and room inspections, and attending classes where we received instruction specific to navy rules and regulations, traditions, customs, and leadership. I had already been there and done that, and much of what was required of us was already second nature to me.
I believe I would have enjoyed the OIS more had it not been for catching a nasty, lingering, energy-draining cold as a result of undergoing the “Buttercup experience.” One of the first tasks we were to accomplish required us to be put into a building (the “Buttercup”) that resembled a ship. As the building was flooded with the ice-cold water of Narragansett Bay, we were to work as a team in an attempt to save this simulated sinking ship. Being submerged in that bone-chilling February water of Newport was unbearable, and it significantly diminished my body’s defenses against germs and viruses. Every day th
ereafter, I suffered from a constant runny nose, a sore throat, and a feeling of being miserable all over. I was determined from that day on never to choose to go to a place that was so cold. The weather and climate of an area would remain an important factor for me and would often be how I would choose future duty stations throughout my navy career.
On 1 April 1983, I was commissioned as an ensign in the U.S. Navy Nurse Corps and received orders to Naval Hospital, San Diego. I was assigned to an open-bay, enlisted men–only general surgical ward, a large, open area where all the hospital beds were lined up next to each other and all could be viewed from the nurses’ station. I soon discovered that what I had learned in nursing school did not completely prepare me for all that I would encounter working as a nurse in the Navy Nurse Corps.
I was the only nurse assigned on the evening shift and had only two corpsmen to assist me with patient care in this very active thirty-six-bed unit. We worked hard. Many of the patients in this unit were acutely ill and unstable and required intensive and extensive procedures and ministrations. The administration of intravenous total parental nutrition, maintenance of central venous pressure lines, numerous dressing changes, respiratory care, and other treatments critical for the care of fresh postoperative patients were common and constant. In addition to administering patient care and teaching and supervising corpsmen—specifically in how to provide the needed care—the nurse was also responsible for various administrative details inherent with patient-care documentation and the general management of the ward.
Because this was an open-bay ward, many of the patients who had progressed in their recovery could easily see when one of their shipmates was in need, and they quickly offered their assistance with such simple tasks as filling water pitchers. They also served as much-needed extra eyes and ears and would be quick to alert us if one of their shipmates was in distress. It was a beautiful example of teamwork and of how the navy truly does take care of its own. I loved working on this ward. I was guided in my developing role as a practicing nurse by my charge nurse, Cdr. Janet Kozlowski, whom I had previously met when she was teaching at the Naval School of Health Sciences (NSHS), San Diego.
Despite my love of working on this surgical floor, I continued to be intrigued with the ICU and the post-anesthetic care unit (PACU), where patients’ conditions were even more critical and the treatments were more highly specialized and intricate. As a result of the active support of several wonderful senior nurses, including Commander Kozlowski, Cdr. Anne Rawley (area coordinator), Capt. Maggie Donahue (director of nursing service), Lt. Cdr. Eugene Luhan (recovery room charge nurse), and Cdr. Arlene Southerland (ICU and PACU charge nurse). I was reassigned to the staff of the PACU, even though I was a mere ensign. I was even further cross-trained to deliver care in the ICU. In addition to learning valuable skills and receiving tremendous experience in hands-on patient care, I wrote two papers specific to hypothermia (subnormal body temperatures) and extubation (removal of a tube from the trachea) criteria that were published.
Because the PACU/recovery room required personnel with highly specialized skills and advanced knowledge in order to function with proficiency and authority, I decided—then a lieutenant (junior grade)—to write a point paper outlining why I believed the recovery room should become an official designated subspecialty for navy nurses. After it was forwarded through the chain of command at San Diego, my paper came to the attention of Rear Adm. Marianne Stratton, director of the Navy Nurse Corps. During a visit to the San Diego area for a conference, Admiral Stratton came to visit me to discuss the various points outlined in this paper. Ultimately, the navy would approve the designation of this subspecialty code for nurses throughout the Navy Nurse Corps.
In September 1986, I was frocked as a lieutenant, and my tour of duty at Naval Hospital, San Diego, was quickly drawing to its end. Having had so many positive experiences as a Navy Nurse Corps officer while at San Diego, I decided that leaving the corps for a civilian career was not an option. All I wanted to do was pick another place that was warm and to charge on, growing, developing, and being all that I could be as a navy nurse.
I was due for an overseas tour of duty and had filled in various overseas duty stations on my “dream sheet” (my list of preferred stations) without being truly aware of their exact locations. When the duty-assignment manager told me that I would be going to the Philippines, it was only then that I looked at a map and thought, “Hmmm, that’s pretty far from here, but it looks to be a tropical place, and I am sure the weather will be warm.”
Prior to shipping out to the Philippines in 1986, I went back to Fleetwood to be with my family. It was around Christmas, and it would be a very special time for me, filled with many cherished memories of baking cookies with my mother, my sister, and my grandmother Ruff. My grandmother Ruff retrieved an aged bottle of homemade wine that had been packaged in 1980 in an old-fashioned Log Cabin syrup bottle by my grandfather just prior to his death. When my grandmother gave me this highly prized possession as a parting gift, she said, “You need to have a little toast.” Shortly after this visit home, my grandmother would have a debilitating stroke, and this, along with worsening symptoms associated with Parkinson’s disease, would require her to enter a nursing care facility. That visit would be my last at Grandmother Ruff’s home. Prior to catching my flight to the Philippines, I opened that bottle of wine in honor of my grandparents and share it with Shirley and Gordon Cornell during a quiet bon voyage dinner.
Arriving at Clark Air Force Base, I was reunited with Lt. Carolyn Shaw, a navy nurse with whom I had been stationed at San Diego. She would serve as my sponsor. Despite being December, the weather was hot and muggy, and I knew it would become even hotter and more humid as the months passed. Traveling to Subic Bay and then on to Cubi Point where the Naval Hospital was located, I looked out the bus window and saw neighborhoods and dwellings that reminded me of the poor, dilapidated neighborhoods of Tijuana, Mexico.
I did not know upon arriving at this duty station that it would become my favorite in my twenty-five-year naval career. Reunited with many friends and colleagues with whom I had been stationed in San Diego, including Cdr. Alicia Deprima, who was serving as the director of nursing service, I felt almost like I was being stationed at an annex of the Naval Hospital in San Diego. I was thousands of miles from California, yet, being surrounded by so many good friends, I felt as though I had never left. We would work hard and play hard, and they would be there for me when I was notified of the death of my grandfather McKently in June 1987, followed by the sudden death of my father in March 1988. It was difficult being so far away from home when these losses occurred, but my friends, my overseas adopted family, provided me the comfort and support to help me work through the grieving process.
Initially assigned to a male medical-surgical open-bay ward at U.S. Naval Hospital, Subic Bay, Philippine Islands, I would eventually move to the three-bed ICU where I would serve as charge nurse. Many of the patients we received had conditions so critical that they could not be transported stateside and would be in our care for many months. In addition to learning and growing in the field of intensive care nursing, I would also learn how to care for patients with an array of tropical diseases and conditions—tuberculosis, tetany, malaria, and dengue, for example—not commonly seen in stateside facilities. I will never forget the sight of worms crawling out the ends of endotracheal tubes or finding worms stuck to the tip of the suction catheter I had been using to clear a patient’s airway.
We always had something to see or do on and around the base when we were not working. One of our favorite activities was to rent a ski boat and spend hours water-skiing, boating, or simply relaxing as the boat drifted beneath clear blue skies. Travel opportunities were abundant. I had the opportunity to travel five times to Hong Kong, China (including Beijing), Singapore, Jakarta, and Australia, and I was able to experience a two-week backpacking and elephant-tracking adventure in Chang Mi, Thailand.
Periodically, the hospit
al staff would go out on what we called “jungle excursions.” Leaving a skeleton crew behind on the hospital wards to attend to any in-house issues concerning patient care, we would go into the jungle of the Philippines, set up tents, and perform mass casualty drills. U.S. Marines and Navy helicopter pilots would join us in these drills, and simulated patients would be brought to us for triage and care. It was definitely a different environment and type of medicine from what I had experienced while working on the hospital wards or in the ICU, but the knowledge I gained would be of great help to me.
In July 1989, I received orders to Naval Hospital, Camp Pendleton, California. Capt. Elizabeth Muszynski, director of nursing service, assigned me to work in the ICU even though my first choice was the PACU. Still, I was thrilled when I discovered my charge nurse was Cdr. Annie Mulligan, a navy nurse and a marathon runner. I had heard of her and had wanted to meet her. Although I had continued fulfilling my passion for running while in the Philippines, a major desire of mine was to learn how to run marathons. My assignment and meeting of Commander Mulligan seemed destined.
Annie would indeed teach me to run marathons, and I would run several marathon events throughout California and later in other states across the country. When Annie departed with orders to Naval Hospital, Oakland, and despite being simply a lieutenant at the time, I became charge nurse of the ICU. Blessed with a wonderful staff of ensigns, lieutenants, and corpsmen who were experienced, knowledgeable, and highly skilled, the ICU was well staffed and efficient, and it offered the highest possible caliber of patient care. My nursing supervisors, Cdr. Linda Massey and Cdr. Leslie Robinson, trusted my abilities as both nurse and leader and allowed me full and final reign of decisions specific to the ICU’s management.