by Barbara Best
On her very first visit to Savannah’s makeshift hospital at the corner of Broughton and Jefferson Streets, Jane received quite a reaction from the male staff, from perceived as inferior, to found amusing, to completely ignore. And she was sure she had been the brunt of some pretty unsavory jokes.
Apparently, people have a serious attitude toward females in the nursing profession. There are two types of female nurses — gentle, well-respected women, who lovingly nursed their families, and socially undesirable women, who have the audacity to care for strange men. Worse yet, unmarried females in nursing were sordidly looked upon as hardly a notch or two above prostitute. It is only after despairing conditions in this war press communities to venture outside their comfort zone and abandon pointless proprieties, that women will begin to surpass men in the field.
She had been warned in so many words and deeds the affects her brazen conduct could have on her moral fiber. As a result some of the ladies Jane knew at church had rudely turned their backs. She had no idea just how difficult it would be to move freely in this world. Imagine, even her own gender would stop her! It is a hard pill to swallow. But as long as her forward-thinking Richard had faith and Anna showed support, Jane is determined to resist negative opinion, refusing to submit to the manacles people would put on her.
Jane now looks at the floor of suffering, miserable patients crammed from one corner of the large room to another. “This whole place is unsanitary. You have to know that. How in the world can anyone possibly get well here?”
Not getting an answer, Jane continues levelly, “I’m sorry,” she sincerely apologizes, “but why did you even suggest I come if you aren’t going to let me do some good?” Reading and writing letters, holding a cold, clammy hand, wiping the sweaty brow of a badly ill patient was not enough for her. It was deplorable to watch the men attend raw, gaping wounds with total disregard to the state of their patients’ bodies covered with blood, flies and filth. It turned Jane’s stomach!
There must be some way to get through, but the good doctor has already smiled a tolerant, patronizing dismissal and turned away, catching the eye of his colleague. In bold disregard, Jane follows Richard and patiently waits by the wall fingering the pleats of her apron, while he engages in some long, drawn out consultation.
The hospital is in wild uproar over the next influx of Confederate soldiers from major battles up north. Savannah’s makeshift hospital was already here when Jane arrived in the spring of 1862. Unorganized facilities such as this one had access to little treatment other than bandages, chloroform, opium and morphine. Eventually, a new hospital system would begin to take shape, but right now the people are ill prepared to care for massive numbers of casualties.
Soldiers that arrived here had made a long and risky journey. Chances are they were first taken to triage on the battlefield to determine the severity of their injuries. Then whisked off to a temporary field hospital behind front lines to treat their immediate needs in the most barbaric of ways. And last but not least, for critical cases and longer recuperations, sent by overcrowded steamer or train to hospitals, like theirs, positioned deep within the interior of the South out of harms way.
Finally Richard turns to Jane, peering over the top of his spectacles with brows raised and looking all too weary. Jane thinks she’s probably the cause of it this time. “Doctor Arnold, I know how busy you are, but can you at least hear me out.” Jane pleads gently, just above a whisper and drawing him away and out of hearing range. It wouldn’t do her any good to embarrass the man in front of everyone.
“Miss Peterson, the day is not done and we have patients to attend to.”
“Wait, please, just a minute of your time. Here’s a thought, and I’m just making a suggestion now. I’ll do whatever you say and I wouldn’t dream of doing anything to compromise my position here.” Okay, here goes nothing. “What if I take one section of the hospital and make it the way I think it should be. Now, that would only be the things I talked about, getting rid of the germs and keeping things as sterile as possible. I can change bandages and did a pretty nice stitch job on a cut over a soldier’s eye once,” Matthew Hopkins’ brow to be exact, “so maybe you will let me tend minor injuries like that with my methods. I would need a little help to start with, but with a small group of patients . . . your pick, of course, maybe I can prove to you there’s a better way.” Please, please, please let this be.
Richard slowly scans the long rows of patients. Bed after bed of desperately ill men arranged helter skelter in the larger section of the hall. It deeply troubles him that more are on the way. Richard snatches his glasses off with one hand and absentmindedly wipes the round lenses on a small, unsoiled corner of the bloodied apron he had wiped his scalpel on earlier. Thinking.
Jane holds her breath and hopes this is a good sign her proposition is being considered. She tucks a wild lock of damp, greasy hair that had managed to get loose behind one ear and stands as still and respectful as she can. She refrains from biting her lower lip; a habit Anna often reminds her she must break. And tries to ignore the fact she is disgustingly hot and sticky. How nice it will be to get home to her bath and wash the day off.
“Well . . . who am I to stand in the way of progress.” Richard says cheerfully, giving Jane a quick wink, and then on a serious note, “You are aware, Miss Peterson, your inclinations toward these things belie all current practices.” He pauses, slipping his glasses back on. “Very well then. I grant you four patients, God rest their souls, and entreat you to defy all reason.”
“How awesome!” Jane leaps forward, wrapping her arms around the doctor’s neck and planting a big kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. You won’t be sorry, Doctor Arnold. You’ll see! I’ll make you proud.”
“Miss Peterson, please. Remember yourself!” The doctor is caught completely off guard by this sudden outburst of public affection, but must admit he is moved by Jane’s enthusiasm.
For Jane, it is one of the most exciting and satisfying moments of her life.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
In an upstairs room with large windows, Jane surveys freshly whitewashed walls to brighten and improve light. Although it is terribly hot and humid outside and not much better in, their spot higher up greatly reduces the number of mosquitoes that plague the ground floor and carry disease. The four men released to Jane’s care are, like so many others, already butchered and sick. It’s like some third world country.
A poor, gaunt black man is Jane’s fifth patient. He arrived in a tattered, bug-infested, and badly soiled Confederate gray uniform that stunk to high heaven. Seeing a black man wearing Gray surprised Jane. Fighting in a war against the very people who were willing to die for his freedom was uncanny to say the least. She was curious to find out more about him. In the meantime, no matter what side this man was on or what color he was wearing, Jane insisted on giving him care. Especially when she realized the staff was actually going to turn him away.
“This is a war, gentlemen, and this man fought like any other soldier. Your opinions should be kept entirely to yourself. It’s just not professional.” Jane protests indignantly when met with indifference from those whom she is addressing, “He’s a human being, for Pete’s sake, and should be treated as such. Even I know about the Hippocratic oath. And you just don’t discriminate. I don’t care what the pecking order is around here!”
The men around Jane stand rigid, some uncertain on how to react. Others are openly hostile or planning to ignore her completely.
“He stays!” Jane knows she is behaving badly and her temper is getting the best of her, but they deserved the dressing down. And besides, someone has to speak up for the man. He’s obviously too ill to speak for himself.
Upon hearing the outburst at the other end of the first floor, Richard works his way through the crowd of incoming wounded to the receiving area and grasps Jane’s arm firmly in warning.
Richard politely nods at the agitated men. “I will be with you in a moment, gen
tlemen. Leave the negro here for the time being. Over there against that wall.” His grip tightens even more on Jane’s arm. “Miss Peterson, you must be exhausted.” He steers her away and those involved in the kerfuffle slowly begin to move again.
A few of the men grumble angrily about how this is no place for women-folk. How it wasn’t right to give a woman too many liberties. That someone needs to put her in her place.
Jane is eloquently guided out of the room and told in no uncertain terms she will have to leave. Richard knew that the hospital was expecting entirely too much of this young lady. She has been working her heart out, doing the job of twenty. “Your services are greatly appreciated, my dear, but that’s enough for one day don’t you think? I’ll have my carriage take you home. Eat something and get some sleep, Jane. I don’t wish to see you back here until Monday next. Doctor’s orders.”
“But Richard, Doctor Arnold, what about that poor man.” Jane hates the whiny sound to her voice. Her brave persona is crumbling to tears.
“I will see to it the man is moved around the back and to your special care unit. Simon and Phoebe will help me isolate him so there is no further trouble.” Doctor Arnold tips Jane’s chin up gently with the corner of his hand and studies her face closely. “Nothing a little rest won’t cure.” He smiles and tweaks her nose. “Now go home!”
Jane admits she is more than tired and isn’t much good to anyone this way. Working at the hospital was a real high. Something she hadn’t expected. On the flip side, it was also a real downer and a nasty business.
How the soldiers even made it to this place alive was a tremendous feat in itself. From the trauma of horrendous injuries and disease, through hopelessly overcrowded transports, and suffering the effects of shock, dysentery, dehydration, and starvation, they had somehow beaten the odds thus far. And Jane will not give up on them now, not as long as she’s around. She has set her mind to try everything she can to save as many men as humanly possible. Even if they don’t make it, they will at least live the last bit of their lives in some form of comfort, with cleanliness and respect. They will die with some dignity.
Boiled water, her mixture of saline solution, distilled alcohol, soap, clean dressings, bathing and clean bedding are Jane’s strongest defense. She suspects in time it will slowly catch on. Here, you live one minute, one hour, one day to the next and count your blessings. Seeing a patient open their eyes or say they are hungry for the first time, learning someone’s raging fever had finally broken overnight, or having a patient tell you their pain had become more tolerable are great successes. And in more extreme cases, and there were many, to escape the death sentence of infections is a huge victory.
Along with her knowledge of and confidence in her treatments, Jane insisted upon two people to help her. One was Phoebe, whom Anna was so kind to have loaned to the hospital. The other is a guy by the name of Simon, who is in his late teens, walks with a limp, and aspires to be a doctor one day. Both assistants enjoyed what Jane calls “teamwork” and how, by each doing their part and working together, they could achieve much. She had gained their trust and respect. They also accepted the unusual way in which Jane nursed her patients and were supportive in what she was trying to achieve.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
It’s Sunday. Two days since Jane was sent home from her job, which has become the center of her world in 1862 and her new life. It was just like her to go crazy fanatic about something new she felt a passion for. Nursing! Who would have thought!
Jane has just returned home from services followed by a church-wide lunch, which she attended with the Hopkins family at Saint Johns Episcopal Church across the street from Madison Square. The church is absolutely beautiful. All new and shiny. Built just a few years earlier, it stands in all its neo-gothic glory adorned with magnificent stained glass windows, gargoyles, and a regal steeple that sharply pierces the morning sky. Jane is especially fond of the melodious chimes that peel their greeting to the congregation, who arrive on foot or in horse-drawn buggies, dressed in their Sunday finest. The ladies are wearing their best bonnets made of silk or straw and trimmed in lace, ruffles, and ribbon. Many of the stately gentlemen are wearing shimmering silk or beaver top hats. Inside, women and men are segregated, seated on opposing sides of the sanctuary.
Jane didn’t mind going to church and could easily spend hours studying the heavy wooden carvings and massive beams in its interior. An unusual feature at Saint Johns is a ship’s mast that is located in the center of its only spire. Fashioned after a British parish house, its picturesque marble columns, gold trim, and brightly colored windows reflect the light of hundreds of candles. Although the church is preserved and an important part of Savannah’s Christian community one hundred and fifty years into the future, Jane had never been inside. Anna told Jane in private, Bishop Elliott preached openly against secession. And Jane wonders how many others didn’t go for this whole war thing and the South becoming its own entity.
It’s way too hot. Jane longs for the days of air conditioning; even an electric fan would be sheer bliss right now. Upon arriving home, Anna and Clara have both gone inside the house to rest. Being that it’s the Lord’s Day, Jane is condemned to a day of rest and reflection. She much prefers the rigorous mental and physical challenges of the hospital. She is restless on Sundays, having entirely too much time for leisure. As a diversion, Jane decides to take the narrow walkway, lined with bricks towards the back of the house and spies her friend across the yard.
“A penny for your thoughts.” Jane calls out cheerfully to Tessie, who is taking a much-deserved rest on a stone bench under an old oak next to the carriage house and the family’s garden. It is one of the few places on the Hopkins’ property where one can catch a nice breeze and escape the relentless heat of summer.
Jane works her way to where Tessie sits, looking none too happy. Uh-oh. “So what’s up?”
“Miss Jane, I don’t think you should be talkin’ on so bout dat penny of yourn. I feel dey be some big trouble comin’ bout dat.”
“Oh, come on, a penny for your thoughts? It’s just a figure of speech. Wow! It’s nice out here.” Jane shades her eyes searching the grounds for the adorable lamb she spotted yesterday. Counting the little one, there are five gulf coast sheep and two cantankerous goats on the property. The largest of the sheep is the ram. But it’s no bigger than the size of an overstuffed large dog.
Realizing she can’t sidestep Tessie’s original remark, Jane continues more seriously, “So, what are you trying to say, Tessie?” This is the first time Tessie has mentioned a word about her penny since Jane’s big reveal that quickly fizzled and went flat a couple months ago.
Tessie looks uncomfortable and tense about what she is about to say. She surveys the yard to see if anyone is around and swats at a bee that has strayed from one of the hives kept out back to help pollinate their garden and to make honey.
She begins in a hushed voice, just above a whisper, “Dis Massa Lincoln . . . I hear he be a Yankee . . . bout as Yankee as dey come! Humph! Now ole Tessie, she don’t know much bout things, but one thing I do knows . . . if anyone round here see dat coin you showed me . . . well, dey be wantin’ to know why you carryin’ dat Yankee President in ya purse, Miss Jane. Sho-nuff.”
“Really.” Jane situates her hoop and turns to join Tessie on the bench. “Honestly, I wish you’d drop the old from your name, Tessie. Because you’re not. And you know a whole lot more than you give yourself credit for. Your mind, thoughts and feelings are no different from mine.” Jane pats her skirt down. It’s made of a dotted swiss organdy, in a striped yellow pattern where the dots are real threads and not bits of polyester glued on. It is sheer and lightweight for hot summer days, and very pretty.
Tessie clucks her tongue and shifts over on the bench to put some space between the two of them. “Dats it! Dey is a BIG difference. You needs ta heed what people thinks round here, Miss Jane. You needs ta be careful.” She scolds.
“Like how?”
Jane keeps her distance out of respect for Tessie. “Well, you’re probably right. It’s just that I don’t agree with societies that don’t treat everyone as equal. We are, you know . . . equal. In every way.”
“Lawdy, Miss Jane, it jess ain’t right. Somebody might hear ya talkin’ dis nonsense.” Tessie gets up as fast as her round body and rheumatism will allow. “I bess get back to da house, now. Dey always sumpin ta be done.”
Jane just sits there for a minute, watching Tessie go and trying to figure out what just happened. Tessie is wise and knows plenty and Jane’s not one to disregard advice, or a warning, coming from someone who cares about her well-being. She better be careful. She’s not sure what set Tessie off, but she better be careful.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
“So you are the Mystifying Ghost Lady we are all dying to meet.” Calls a confident voice from the doorway.
“Huh?” Jane looks up from her desk where she is keeping a record on her patient’s progress, documenting every detail while it is still fresh in her mind. “I’m sorry. Give me just a sec, I’m just finishing up.”
Jane is especially stressed out today as she was up a good part of the night with twenty-two year old Wiley Thornton, or Scamp, as the men called him. The men in his regiment came up with the nickname because of how quickly he could scamper out of a bad situation.
This time poor Scamp’s luck had run out. At a place called James Island in South Carolina, he had been badly mangled in battle, taking a lead ball to his ankle. His luck further evaded him when his amputation went bad. The original surgery, hastily performed in a field hospital three weeks ago, was a major botch job that concerned Doctor Arnold from the start. Richard warned Jane in private, “It is a terrible misfortune and what nightmares are made of.”