Yes Sister, No Sister

by Jennifer Craig

  The funniest thing happened. Remember I told you Matron has an orange mini? You know her garage has two doors – one to the outside and one you can reach from the hospital. Well, the housemen broke in one night and carried the car out into the main corridor. It blocked the traffic for hours before someone told her. She’s had a padlock put on the door.

  Love Jen

  3B Rosemount Crescent

  Leeds

  15 June 1958

  Dear Judith,

  Thank you for your letter. I think it is wonderful that you are moving to Cambridge and Alan has a shared practice. When will you hear from the university?

  Jenner is back. The first thing she did was check the supplies and complain that there weren’t enough new thermometers. I had ordered them but she didn’t want to hear. Isobel and Carol aren’t allowed to have coffee in the sideward any more and the men have stopped coming. Some poor nurse forgot to plug in the food trolley so the plates weren’t hot enough for her, so she made them wash them in hot water. While they were doing this, the supper got cold! I’m going to the office soon to see where I can move to.

  I get my cast off this week. Sandy sends her love. Oh, I nearly forgot. We had a letter from Marie. She’s pregnant but wants to come home to have the baby.

  Love Jenny

  Ward 9

  Leeds General Infirmary

  17 July 1958

  Dear Judith,

  Many thanks for the Get Well card. Sandy told me she’d written to tell you I was in. NO, I did not do this just to see Geoff Mitchell! Though, I must say he is the only bright spark on an otherwise dull horizon. He comes to see me every day. Mmmm!

  Well, I got my cast off, had two weeks of physio and then I went to see Gorgeous for my final check. The very next day, I went riding. I was on a new horse and we were just standing after a gallop when it suddenly took off. Before I could get my balance, it ran under a tree and a branch knocked me off. I have cracked my pelvis and two ribs. Bloody painful I can tell you. Nothing displaced though, so I don’t have to be in a cast. I can probably go home next week on crutches.

  It’s quite interesting being on the other side of the bed so to speak. You certainly find out which nurses you want and which you don’t. Some leave you feeling comfy for hours and some leave you feeling as if you are sitting on sandpaper.

  I got a huge bunch of flowers from Livvy. She feels terrible but it wasn’t her fault.

  Matron came round yesterday. She didn’t seem terribly sympathetic. Said she hoped I’d be back on my feet soon and to be more careful in future. Miss Darcy was really kind. When I told her I was going to sell my jodhpurs and give up riding for knitting, she said, ‘Oh no, you mustn’t do that. Get back on a horse as soon as you can.’ She sat down and we talked for ages. She used to ride and came off several times.

  Must end. It’s difficult to write in this position.

  Love Jen

  Amma’s House

  Leeds

  6 August 1958

  Dear Judith,

  CONGRATULATIONS! How wonderful! When does term start? When you’re a famous barrister, will you still talk to me? I’m going to brag about my friend who is reading law at Cambridge!

  I’m at Amma’s being spoilt by her and my aunts. I have to be on crutches for another two weeks and then I can start to walk. I hope to be back at work by the end of the month. I’m bored stiff!

  Sandy has applied for a night sister’s job. I expect she’ll get it so she’ll be on nights on 1 September.

  Love Jenny

  3B Rosemount Crescent

  Leeds

  12 September 1958

  Dear Judith,

  Thank you for your letter. I’m glad Alan is enjoying his practice and that you both love Cambridge. Your new flat sounds very posh.

  Not much to tell you. Sandy is in blue, on nights, so I hardly see her. I’m back on Jenner’s ward because both Sylvia and Carol left and they need me until the new staff nurse has settled in. Then I might be able to transfer.

  Saw Wee Jess briefly as she passed through Leeds. She’s a fully-fledged midwife now and is going on the district near Settle.

  Love Jenny

  3B Rosemount Crescent

  Leeds

  3 October 1958

  Dear Judith,

  What’s it like being an undergraduate student? Do you wear a gown and ride a bicycle? Write a long letter and tell me all about it.

  I have applied for a night sister’s job starting 1 November. When I took my application in to Matron, she said she had grave misgivings about putting my name forward. ‘You’re not exactly harum-scarum but…’ Honestly – just because I fell off a scooter and a horse does not make me an unsuitable sister. No one else has applied so I expect I’ll get it. I shall be glad to leave Ward 5. Jenner manages to make the ward a dull place to work. She’s so routine-bound, she drives me crazy. When I’m a ward sister my ward is going to be fun to work on.

  When are you coming north again?

  Love Jenny

  Chapter 23

  Dear Miss Ross,

  It gives me great pleasure to inform you that your appointment as a night sister was confirmed at the meeting of the House Committee yesterday. Your appointment will commence on 1 November 1958.

  Yours sincerely,

  Ann Wilks, Matron

  A SISTER AT LAST! I change into my long-sleeved blue dress with its stiff collar and fasten on the familiar apron. I handle my LGI badge affectionately as I pin it on the bib. I went through a lot to earn it. Then comes the bonnet. Sandy showed me how to make the semi-circle of starched muslin with its fluted edge into a mass of frill that I am about to place on my head. It required sewing a running stitch with strong thread and then pulling the thread to gather the stiff material into the size of a small pudding basin. Two starched ribbons are pinned to the inside and the loose ends tie in a bow under my chin. Sandy also showed me how to wet the starch out of the parts that run next to my neck so that they don’t chafe. I already have a permanent red mark around my neck from my collar and I don’t need more disfigurements.

  I had my hair set this afternoon and I have to admit that I am pleased with the image in the mirror. Perhaps I am not so old-looking after all. Perhaps those wrinkles under my eyes will disappear with sleep. I am 24.

  It is nearly 9pm. I dread leaving the locker room. I wish Sandy was here but as junior night sister, she is up at the Ida. I know that as I meet nurses coming off duty they will say to each other, ‘Hey, look! Ross is in blue,’ the sort of comment I have made many times before.

  I brace myself and head down the covered passage from the Nurses’ Home to Matron’s office. I am excited. It will be fun to be on nights with Sandy, and Sister Busby is the Night Superintendent. She is with Matron when I arrive and I greet the other two night sisters whom I know slightly. They are busy with pieces of paper but I have no idea what to do.

  ‘I don’t know what section Buzz will give you, so I can’t be much help I’m afraid,’ Todd says. ‘The first thing we do is find out who the sickest patients are and who has been to theatre. You need to know quickly because their relatives phone about 11.’ She hands me a small black box that I clip into my pocket. ‘As soon as you know which wards you’re covering, phone the front-hall porter and give him the number of your beeper and your wards. When you get phone calls from outside or from your wards, he’ll beep you.’

  Sister Busby emerges from the inner sanctum. ‘Well, Jen Ross, I thought you’d show up sooner or later. Nice to see you. How does it feel to be in blue?’

  ‘I feel damn silly as a matter of fact. I have no idea what I’m doing.’

  ‘Oh, you’ll soon get the hang of it. I’m letting you off lightly tonight as I will take two of your wards.’ She hands me a list of wards and a sheaf of reports. ‘I’ll take these wards,’ she says as she ticks off two numbers, ‘and you do the others. I do theatre and casualty every night. Let’s go.’

  We walk down the main corridor that is
empty except for a hurrying houseman in the distance. Even though Busby has taken two of my wards I am still responsible for 170 patients.

  ‘Just go into your wards and see the sickest. It’s a lot easier now that staff nurses are on some wards at night as they can give out the sleeping pills. We had to do that at one time, remember? Let me see – you better go to Ward 18 first and then 17, as there are student nurses in charge and you will have to do the o.n.’s [sleeping pills]. Visit them more often as well, especially 18 as Sage is on.’ Buzz rolls her eyes. ‘Sage is a misnomer if ever there was one – she’s as thick as two planks! See you later. Beep me if you need help.’ She swings through the outer door of a ward as I walk on towards Ward 18.

  I want to be a good sister. I think I am competent but mostly I want to be a good teacher. I remember how much I learned from Busby when she was my night sister. She taught me how and what to observe, what was important, what wasn’t, and she inspired me to study my textbooks. I do not want to be a stickler for trivial detail like the Dragon nor a bully like the Sod. I do not want to instill fear in the students but nor do I want to let poor nursing care pass me by.

  Ward 18 is a male ear, nose and throat (ENT) ward. There have been nine surgeries today but all minor, such as removal of nasal polyps. It should he fairly quiet but there is a general air of disturbance, as if two emergencies have just been admitted. There is certainly no sense that here is a ward settling down for the night.

  A big, heavy-set student nurse lumbers down the ward to meet me. From the stripe on her sleeve I see that she is in third year, so this must he Nurse Sage.

  ‘Good evening, Sister,’ she says. I almost want to look over my shoulder to see whom she is talking to. It is the first time I have been addressed as ‘Sister’ and I wonder how long it will take me to get used to it.

  ‘Good evening, Nurse Sage. Shall we do the o.n’s? Where is your runner?’

  ‘I’ll go and get her.’ Sage trudges down to the bottom of the ward. I stand fuming. She seems surprised that we are to give out sleeping pills at this time of night. I look at my notes and start to check on the post-op patients. At the third patient, Sage and the runner come to tell me they are ready.

  We all move to the first bed. ‘Where are the drugs?’ I ask.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I left them on the desk. I’ll just get them.’ Sage goes to the desk and finds the tray of bottles of sleeping pills.

  ‘Nurse Sage, you know perfectly well that you don’t leave o.n. drugs lying around. They are to be kept locked up at all times.’

  ‘Well, I knew you would be here soon, so I left them ready.’

  ‘That is no reason to leave them unlocked. You do not get them out until the night sister is actually on the ward.’ I have only been in blue an hour and here I am telling someone off. Only moments before I was dreaming of being a super teacher who doesn’t carp, but leaving narcotics where patients could get them is serious and Sage should know better.

  We make our way round the ward. I check the bottles from which Sage takes the pills against the patient’s charts. All her movements are so slow that I want to shake her but at least she can read and hands me the right bottles. I do manage to examine the post-ops on the way round but I am way behind time.

  My beeper buzzes as we near the end and the runner heads for the phone to find out where I am needed. She reaches the door, then turns, comes to me and says ‘I’m sorry Sister, but I don’t know your name.’

  ‘Ross,’ I say. ‘I should have introduced myself.’ The call is from a relative. Fortunately, about one of the patients I have just seen.

  The next ward is in darkness when I enter and the two students quickly come to me, the senior with the tray of sleeping pills she has just removed from the cupboard. We make rapid progress around the ward. I finish the round with them, go to see the sickest patients, then set off for my next four wards. These have staff nurses on so I only need to visit the patients on my list.

  Promptly at 11pm my beeper starts buzzing as relatives phone to inquire about their loved ones. I try to remember something about the patients so that I don’t sound like an automaton. I refer to the patient by name and say, for example, that she is having a bit of pain but that we have given her something, or that she will feel better in the morning. Or else, ‘Well, he’s still very poorly luv, but we’re doing all we can to make him comfortable.’ I am overwhelmed by the gratitude that is expressed.

  When I finish my last round, I head for the office where I can sit and deal with the phone calls over a cup of tea. The others are doing the same and several housemen are lounging around drinking tea. I know most of them but not the one for ENT. Before I have time to ask, a pale, sandy haired young man says, ‘Are you doing Wards 17 and 18?’

  ‘Yes, I’m Jenny Ross. It’s my first night.’

  ‘I’m Mike Cardiff – ENT houseman. How are things?’

  ‘Pretty quiet. There is one man, Phillips I think.’ I shuffle through my notes. ‘Yes, Phillips. He’s got half his packing out already. Says it’s making him itch. What would you like me to do if he pulls it all out?’

  ‘Just leave it. If he starts to bleed you can re-pack but I don’t think he will.’ Mike yawns. ‘There’s a woman on 17 I’m a bit worried about. Mrs Tufts. She sprang a temperature today and I’m not sure what’s going on. Keep an eye on her, will you?’

  I write down ‘Tufts’ on Ward 17’s page. The other night sisters are also comparing notes with housemen. When they have finished, the housemen go to bed and we all head for the dining room for dinner. I walk alongside Busby.

  ‘It’s our job to see they get a good night’s sleep,’ she says. ‘They’re on call 24 hours a day with a half day off a week. It’s ridiculous! How can they be expected to function if they’re up half the night?’ We swing off down the stairs to the dining room. ‘So you’ll have to make decisions for them. Don’t get them up to certify a death if it’s expected – only if it’s not. And make judgements about treatment. They’ll back you up.’

  We collect our dinners from the kitchen, as there is no maid service at night.

  ‘We had one houseman, Geoff Spratley. Do you remember him?’ Busby continues. I nod. ‘He comes bouncing in as Houseman of the Year, cocky as hell, didn’t want us to make decisions for him, oh no. How could we, mere nurses, know anything? Well, it only took about two weeks of waking him up every hour about something and he was begging for mercy.’ She chuckles. ‘We stop them from getting too big for their boots.’

  ‘Nurse Sage.’ I say to Busby. She grins. ‘How on earth has she got this far?’

  ‘Yes she is difficult to handle but she is better than she used to be.’

  ‘She drove me crazy within five minutes. She’d left the o.n’s on the desk all ready for a patient to come and help himself.’

  ‘I hope you reprimanded her.’

  ‘Yes, I did. My first encounter with a nurse as a sister and I’m telling her off. Good start, eh?’

  ‘As long as you’re telling them with the intent of teaching them.’ Busby pauses. ‘Jen, you have to remember, these are students. We expect far too much of them as it is and we must allow them to grow up and make mistakes.’

  ‘I do want to be a good teacher,’ I say. ‘I find it hard to correct them because I remember, only too well, certain sisters making my life a misery by continually picking on me. I am not going to be like that.’

  Busby’s beeper goes off and she gets up to use the phone. ‘Got to go to Casualty,’ she says as she stuffs sponge pudding into her mouth. ‘See you later.’

  There are three other night sisters, two I met in the office and one who is on the Brotherton Wing for private patients. ‘What happens now?’ I ask.

  ‘We do full rounds. You can make it a teaching round with the junior if you like, but it’s better to know the patients before you do. We’re usually back in the office at three, if we’re lucky.’

  I love the hospital at night. It’s dimmed lights, hushed quiet and
empty corridors are such a contrast to the bustle of the day. I stop to gaze at the huge stained-glass windows which flank the main staircase, showing angels succouring the sick and wounded. I have never really looked at them before. They are so very Victorian; like the rest of the hospital.

  A full round on my first ward is interrupted by a call to give morphia, which student nurses must have checked by a State Registered Nurse. Morphia now comes in glass ampoules, not as tablets to be melted in a teaspoon over a spirit lamp. I have to flick the ampoule with my forefinger to make the fluid in the stem sink down, saw off the stem with a small file, and then withdraw the fluid with a syringe.

  I enter Ward 18 telling myself that I must not get exasperated with Nurse Sage but my resolution is short-lived. There is not a nurse in sight. I walk down the length of the ward and find Sage and her runner in the sterilising room.

  ‘Surely the rule that there must be a nurse on the ward at all times was drummed into you when you were peaks? Supposing a patient called out or fell out of bed while you were both in here?’

  The runner looks as if she’s just been sentenced to life imprisonment but Sage’s expression is vacant and she says nothing.

  ‘I would like to do a full round, Nurse Sage,’ I say and march back on to the ward to the first bed. I am fuming, not only because of her error but because she has so quickly shattered my image of myself as a tolerant, benevolent sister. Is this why sisters become over-bearing? People like Buzz do not respond to students with exasperation but I do remember that she tore a strip off Marie for praying beside a patient’s bed. I must consult with her on how to deal with stupid nurses like Sage.