The First Year

by Lucilla Andrews

‘Then you’ve got it coming to you! You’ve met Bennings ‒ well, Sister Agatha is Bennings in a blue dress and frilly cap without Sister Francis to keep her slightly under control.’

  I could not worry about Sister Agatha and the possibilities of the future. The present in Casualty was more than enough for me. ‘But Sister Cas. is different?’

  ‘Sister Cas. is a dear,’ she said warmly, ‘and an angel to work for, I think. Consequently, although I’m thrilled for her sake about the latest bit of news that’s buzzing round Martin’s, I can’t help being sorry for future Cas. nurses. There’ll never be another Sister Cas. like Margaret Mercer.’

  ‘Is Sister leaving, Nurse? Has she got a new job?’

  She glanced at me. ‘You are junior! You aren’t even in on the grapevine. Never mind, Standing. You’ll hear it all in time. I can’t go into it now, as we’ve finished our stocking and testing and it’s time we reported to Davis.’

  ‘Stocking and testing’ was the name given to the thrice-daily check and refilling and replacing of all the equipment used in the dressing-rooms. It became my official job, and in doing it I learnt which room was which in the shortest possible time. By my second evening in Cas., having visited every room six times, I had a very good idea of the geography of the place, and was able to talk quite intelligently about minor-sepsis, acute-surgical, or straight-medical rooms. I enjoyed sailing round the hall on my own, feeling like a hospital version of a cross between a cigarette girl and a milkmaid, on account of the large basket of clean dressings which was held against my middle by a strap going round my neck, and the large stock bottles of ether and acriflavine I carried in each hand. It did not take me more than a couple of rounds to discover that Astor was right; I saved yards of walking and many precious minutes of time by carrying those two lotions with me, since more ether and acriflavine was used in the dressing-rooms than any other liquid. I had little to do with the patients during that first week; when I was not stocking and testing I was running errands and taking messages all over the hospital for Nurse Davis. On the rare occasions when I was not needed as a stocker or errand boy Davis told me to stand by her in the hall and watch how she sorted out the non-stop stream of incoming and outgoing patients.

  The place fascinated me; it was exciting and interesting, and I learnt more of the running of a large teaching hospital in one week in Casualty than I would have learned in a year in the wards. I also learnt a lot about the medical staff.

  On my first evening Davis warned me, ‘You must know the name of every doctor on the staff, Nurse; and you must know what they look like. The patients often ask for, or about, a specific man, and you must know of whom they are talking. You must also keep a special eye on the S.M.O. and S.S.O. Those two men are in constant demand from the porters, as the wards ring down here whenever they want them. You can save everyone a lot of time if you can say, “Dr Spence is in Room Twelve,” or “Mr Waring has just gone to Eyes.” And time is all-important down here. Tell me ‒ where’s Mr Waring?’ She shot the last question at me.

  I answered without thinking, ‘Just gone into fourteen, Nurse.’

  ‘Good girl.’ She nodded approvingly. ‘I saw him, but didn’t think you had noticed him. Where’s Dr Spence?’

  I hesitated. ‘I think he’s just gone by, Nurse ‒ but I didn’t notice where.’

  She said, ‘Of course, as you’ve only been on the surgical side you’ll know the surgeons better than the physicians. But you must keep your eyes open. Dr Spence has gone to the lodge. Next time watch where he goes too.’

  ‘Yes, Nurse.’

  At the end of my first week I was enthusiastic about Casualty. ‘It’s terrific,’ I told the girls over cocoa, ‘and the staff are much more matey than in a ward. I forget I’m a first-year frequently. Even the staff nurses break down and call me Standing, and not just Nurse.’

  Josephine had not heard from Gus and she was in a bad mood. ‘I’d much rather be called “Nurse.” I detest being a surname.’

  Angela said that was not what I had meant. ‘No one seriously likes being called by their surname, but it’s the thought behind that counts. I wish they’d send Bennings to Cas.’ She was now in Francis. ‘Might humanize her. I don’t know how you girls survived her! How I wish I was back in Martha.’

  Josephine said tartly she preferred Francis, even with Bennings. ‘Martha’s so quiet, and I can never get those ghastly, complicated medical diets right. I don’t know what you’ll do when you get to a women’s medical ward, Rose. The silence is unnerving. Wouldn’t suit you at all.’

  I was feeling happy that night. I had seen Jake in Cas. most of the evening, and just seeing him about at present made my day. And once he had said, ‘Thank you, Nurse Standing,’ when I handed him something. It had been a golden evening. I beamed at poor Josephine. ‘Then isn’t it splendid that I’m in Cas.? There is so much noise going on in the Hall all day that if I dropped every tin tray in the place I doubt that anyone’d notice it. What with ambulances driving up to the door all day, stretchers being shoved about, plus wheel-chairs, portable X-ray machines, students, patients, relatives, stray coppers, and heaven knows whatnot else, the place is about as quiet as ‒ Angie’s favourite rush-hour in Piccadilly. And I love it!’

  Josephine said she wished Matron had sent her to Cas. ‘Anywhere but that morgue of a Martha.’

  Angela defended her beloved Martha. ‘It’s a lovely ward, and it has to be quiet. Those women are ill; not fine, healthy surgical men.’

  Josephine refused to be impressed. ‘And that Dr Spence! He’s such an insignificant little man. I never know if he’s in the ward or not. He doesn’t seem to bother about etiquette. He just drifts in at all hours and wanders round alone.’

  Angela laughed. ‘Poor little Dr Spence. He isn’t insignificant! He’s just unassuming and frightfully clever, Sister Martha said. I know he isn’t a smashing type like Mr Waring, but on the law of averages you can’t have an S.M.O. and an S.S.O. both looking like Greek gods.’

  Josephine said she disagreed. ‘Mr Waring isn’t at all like a Greek god. He’s got the wrong nose and too much jaw. I think he just looks like a statue ‒ non-Greek. He never shows any feeling at all. Unless,’ she yawned, ‘he’s looking at Rose.’

  I said nothing.

  Angela took that up at once. ‘How does he look at Rose?’

  Josephine said, ‘He frowns at Rose.’

  I still said nothing.

  Angela was intrigued. ‘Why? Because you’re always bashing into him with something, Rose?’

  I shrugged. ‘Don’t ask me. This is news to me too.’ Josephine began to cheer up.

  ‘I thought you knew, Rose. I meant to tell you. I noticed it first that day I spilled your cocoa, and again in the canteen when you were nattering to Bill Martin. He looked quite peeved that morning. I suppose he thought you were behaving in an unseemly way again.’

  ‘I suppose so.’ I pretended to be bored with the subject. ‘By the way’ ‒ this was another line, as I was longing to ask this question ‒ ‘have either of you gathered who it is he’s taking to that dance? To-morrow, isn’t it?’

  They exploded into gales of laughter. When I could make myself heard I asked if I could share the joke.

  ‘Dear Rose,’ spluttered Angela, ‘dear, dear Rose! You still haven’t a clue! Here you are telling us how much you know about the hospital and all that’s going on and, sink me, you haven’t heard what’s going on in your own backyard!’

  ‘In my backyard? In Cas.? What’s going on?’

  ‘Angie means,’ explained Josephine, ‘that that dance is not to-morrow, but to-night. And your Sister Cas. has come back from her holiday one day early and set all Martin’s alight with expectation. The reason why she’s back ‒ as every nurse in the place, bar you, has heard ‒ is to go to the dance to-night. And three guesses ‒ who do you think has asked her?’

  ‘The S.S.O.? And it’s to-night? I thought it was to-morrow.’ They started laughing again.

&nb
sp; ‘Good old Rose,’ said Angela, ‘the bright girl of the set! On the ball every time! No flies on our Rose! Yes, dearie, Sister Cas. has a heavy date with Jake Waring, and we are all thrilled! Such a smack in the eye for Bennings! Sister Cas. has got every pro. in the place rooting for her! So listen, my pet ‒ the next time you want to know anything about Cas. just come to Josephine and me. We’ll tell you all.’ She stopped for breath. ‘That’s a promise, Rose.’

  ‘Thanks, girls,’ I said, ‘that’s big of you.’ I stood up and said I was going to make more cocoa. ‘Both want more?’

  ‘Please.’ Angela smiled up at me. ‘And we’ll toast Sister Cas. and drink damnation to Bennings. I haven’t been so pleased since I don’t know when.’

  I smiled back at her. ‘Nor me. It’s splendid news.’ It was a relief to get out of the room and be able to stop smiling.

  Chapter Seven

  CASUALTY ALLOWS NO TIME FOR TEARS

  I thought a lot about the dance that night ‒ about Sister Casualty, whom I had never seen, whom Nurse Astor described as a dear; whom Nurse Davis said was not going to be happy about finding me in her department. If it was any consolation to Sister I was not at all happy about being found there. Then the absurdity of that thought struck me, and I smiled at the darkness in my room. What did a first-year matter to a sister? Having dealt with that, I had to consider the prospect of her dancing at this moment with Jake Waring. I wondered what she looked like, how long they had been friends, and why I had not taken a chance and accepted that invitation. Perhaps if he had seen me out of uniform ‒ but that was no good, and I could not pretend that it was. In or out of uniform he simply did not see me, and the sooner I accepted that fact the better. I did manage to accept it, but in the accepting I found I grew more miserable that night than I could ever remember being before. If this was falling in love I could do without it. But I knew I could not do without it, and no amount of self-mockery about girlish passions and hopeless schoolgirl crushes could persuade me that what I felt was under my own control. It was not; and, as there was nothing I could do about it, I would have to put up with it ‒ and hide it from the girls.

  I was determined to show Sister Casualty that a first-year could make an efficient Cas. junior; so I took double care with my stocking and testing that morning. I also took double time. When I realized this I speeded up accordingly, congratulating myself as I did so on noticing a mistake before someone else pointed it out to me. My lectures to myself must be showing results. I felt very smug as I raced round the remaining rooms, and returned my empty basket and stock-bottles to the stockroom a few minutes before nine.

  Astor was waiting for me. ‘Ready? Good. Sister’s waiting for our first report.’

  I changed into a clean apron quickly. ‘Coming, Nurse.’

  Sister Casualty was a slight young woman with dark-brown hair which she wore in a neat bun low on her neck. Her hairstyle was old-fashioned, but it suited her regular features and generally unruffled appearance. She told us she was pleased to be back from her holiday, gave each of us our morning’s list of work, then turned to me.

  ‘I do not, as a rule, care to have nurses as junior as yourself here, Nurse Standing, but Matron has told me that she is very short of second-year nurses and was consequently forced to draw on the first-year. Nurse Davis tells me you have settled down quite nicely.’ She glanced at Davis, who earned my undying love by nodding amicably as Sister continued. ‘So, apparently, it is all working out satisfactorily. Certainly, from your point of view, this experience received so early in your training will prove invaluable in the future.’ And she went on to explain, what I had already discovered, about the insight working in Casualty could give into the administration of a teaching hospital.

  She was still speaking when a shirt-sleeved student knocked at the half-open door. ‘Frightfully sorry to interrupt, Sister; but I think there’s been a little mistake somewhere.’ He held up a bottle marked ‘Ether.’ The bottle ‒ like all our lotion bottles ‒ was made of dark-green glass. ‘Of course, I could be wrong; but, as I’ve never come across yellow ether before, I thought I had better mention it.’ As he spoke a second youth appeared at his elbow.

  ‘Excuse me, Sister ‒ but are we using colourless flavine? And surely, even if we are, this isn’t the proper strength? And why is it so volatile? And’ ‒ he offered his bottle ‒ ‘why should it smell of ether?’

  My heart lurched against my ribs, then felt as if it had stopped beating, as Sister took both bottles in silence, smelt them, held them up to the light, poured a little from each into the palm of her hand. ‘Who,’ she asked very quietly, ‘did the stocking and testing this morning?’

  I said hollowly, ‘I did, Sister.’

  She handed me the bottles. ‘You realize what you have done, Nurse Standing?’

  ‘Yes, Sister. I have put the flavine in the ether and the ether in the flavine.’

  She looked at me. ‘Which rooms are those bottles from?’

  I read the labels on the bottles. ‘Nineteen and Twenty-two, Sister.’

  ‘I see.’ She turned to the students. ‘I am very sorry; there has been a mistake. Will you go back to your rooms and apologize for me to the Casualty Officers? I will see you have the right bottles very shortly.’ She looked at me. ‘Get your stock-tray, Nurse Standing, and go and collect all the ether and flavine bottles in use and bring them to me. And you, Nurse Astor, will you go round and stock and test in every room and make sure that there have been no more of these disgracefully careless mistakes.’

  As we crossed the Hall to the stock-room Astor whispered, ‘Why on earth did you have to pick on this morning, Standing? You’ve done all right so far, but think of the first impression you’ve made on Sister. She doesn’t often get cross, but she is now, and, honestly, I can’t blame her.’

  I could not blame Sister either. I was red-faced with embarrassment and fury with myself. Whatever had made me think I could work quickly and well? It would have been better to be late and have done the job properly. And what would the C.O.s and the students say?

  They said a good deal, and none of it was complimentary.

  In the first few rooms I visited, as there had been no mistake, they were reasonably polite. ‘I say, Nurse, you can’t run off with my ether. It’s the only bottle I’ve got and I need it ‒ stat.’ Which in hospital jargon means ‘at once.’

  ‘Nurse ‒ damn it ‒ I’m using that flavine. Give a chap a chance. If you swipe the stuff I’ll never get my dressings done.’

  Mercifully the medical rooms held neither ether nor flavine; but the last few surgical rooms I visited were in a state of minor riot.

  ‘What the devil have the dispensary dished up for ether? Think they’ve dropped a couple of egg-yolks in by mistake?’

  ‘Look here, Nurse ‒ this flavine’s positively alcoholic! I can’t use it. What am I supposed to do? Has some lunatic been having a practical joke?’

  ‘Nurse, I’ve just ruined a set of needles. I poured out this stuff that’s supposed to be ether and it’s come out yellow. Some maniac’s bunged in the wrong fluid by mistake. I thought Martin’s nurses were meant to be efficient!’

  I apologized to the patients, C.O.s, dressers. ‘I am very sorry. It was my fault. I mixed the bottles. The new ones are just coming. I am very sorry to cause you all this delay.’

  I chanted this miserably in and out of the surgical rooms, and continued to chant it to the irate dressers who stopped me in the Hall. ‘Nurse, why have you swiped my ether? I’ve got to get half a dozen bits of strapping off. What am I supposed to use? My teeth?’

  The waiting patients once again amazed me by their patience. ‘That’s all right, duck. Don’t take it to heart. We all make mistakes. Nurses are only human.’

  I doubted that anyone on the staff of St Martin’s Hospital, London, would subscribe to that outrageous suggestion, but felt decidedly cheered by it and their consideration. With the protests and demands still following me, I returned to the duty-
room with my basket loaded with bottles. When I reached that room had I not had the basket strapped round my neck I should probably have dropped the lot. The nurses had all gone, but Sister was not alone. She was talking to the S.S.O.

  He looked round as I knocked. Sister said, ‘Bring them in, Nurse Standing, and I will check over them with you.’

  I hoped that meant Jake was on his way out, but he did not move. ‘Having a bottle muster, Sister?’ he asked curiously.

  Sister looked down her nose. ‘There has been a slight mishap. The ether and flavine have, unfortunately, become mixed.’

  ‘Ether and flavine? But ‒ how? They are totally different in colour and smell.’

  ‘So,’ replied Sister icily, ‘one would have thought. I must tell you that I am very upset about this occurrence, Mr Waring. I do not like, and will not tolerate, carelessness in my department.’ She told me to put all the bottles on her table.

  Jake lost interest in the bottles. He said he could see Sister was busy and had better be getting on.

  ‘But you said you wanted to tell me about that man Gibbs,’ she reminded him.

  ‘Gibbs, yes.’ He looked at his feet. ‘I think Gibbs is going to have to wait, Sister. I’ve just realized that it’s after nine and I was supposed to make a phone call at nine sharp. With your permission, I’ll go and make it and we’ll go into Gibbs later.’ He smiled at her. ‘That suit you?’

  ‘Very well, indeed,’ she returned his smile. ‘I shall be on all day.’ But before she could say any more Nurse Davis came to summon Sister to take a personal telephone call. Sister told me to wait for her. ‘I’ll be back directly, Nurse.’

  I expected Jake to go with her to his own telephoning, but he lingered for a moment in the duty-room doorway looking out at the Hall. Then he turned back, walked to the table, and picked up one bottle. He uncorked it and sniffed the contents. ‘This one’s all right.’ He put the bottle to one side. ‘Don’t blacken things unnecessarily for yourself, Nurse. Why don’t you sort them while you are waiting for Sister? It’s always a good idea to get things organized, and ‒ er ‒ a little method is generally much appreciated in hospital.’