Calgary General Hospital - In Cap and Uniform Yearbook (Calgary, Alberta Canada)

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Can You Remember Way Back When —3 Years Back Uniform—Three dresses made of plain, medium blue, wash material, skirt gathered on band, two inch hem, shirt waist with plain short sleeve six inches from underarm seam. Dresses must be made of material as near the enclosed sample as can be procured. The neck of the uniform must be made to fit correctly the collar enclosed. Skirts must be twelve inches from the floor. Sweater White Jumbo knit. Kimona—One heavy weight kimona. Underslips and Underclothing -Two underslips of light washable mater¬ ial. and a good supply of plain underclothing. Kindly note that trimmed and frilled underclothes will not be accepted in the Hospital Laundry. Shoes—At least one pair of comfortable, new, substantial perfectly plain black oxfords, with rubber heels (high heels prohibited) to be worn when on duty. One pair of rubbers. One pair of bedroom slippers. Soiled Clothes Bag -One bag of not less than one yard in width. Laundry -Every article must be clearly marked on neck or waist band with full name and number Cash’s woven names to be used. Forty-four

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Our Christmas: 1945— Dr. Wool Bloomers (on consultation of Dr. MacCatchit). GUARANTEED to cure: picturemania and luvuvjeans after ranchec- tomy. DIRECTIONS: Mi.x a small quantity of powder (not more than 1 10 11 scoop shovels) with enough liquid to make a smooth paste (not less than 33 2 drops). Place 1 3 of mixture on a laporotomy pad and poultice the small finger of right hand. Use 1 3 of remainder (which is 2 9 of original amount) as shampoo for the hair. (This should be done first in case the laparotomy pad should become wet). To the remainder add enough vanilla to make a liniment which is rubbed into the elbow and wrist joints. (This should be done before the shampoo that the arms may be supple and hence the hair well washed). This is to be done at bedtime—the poultice to be removed sharp at midnight, the liniment to be reapplied every 23 ' j mins, throughout the night. No curlers or bobby pins must be used in the hair before 7:27 next evening. ANTIDOTE: In case a baby, a child, an adolescent or an adult (that is a baby girl or a baby boy or a little boy or a little girl or a teen-age girl or a teen-age boy or a man or a woman) takes some of this internally by mistake (it is not supposed to be taken internally) give the following antidote immediately: Whiskers of three grizzly bears chopped finely and dissolved in the vitreous humour of ten fish eyes. Note: If there is none of the above antidote available in your nearest town—salt and water will do. —The Laffalot Drug Co.—Ponoka. 1946— Hazel’s hay fever. 1947— The balloon barrage. These are only extras but should bring back memories: - -leaving Laura on 3rd West -who could forget the horseback ride— —our invitation to the Colonel Belcher. —carolling three Xmas morns. —Alumnae Valentine party. —as Intermediates at 1947 Graduation. —the parade for the Cancer Drive. Forty-three

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Address to the Graduating Class of 1948 It is a pleasant duty I have been asked to perform tonight, that of address¬ ing the graduating class—not because I feel that I have any inspired message to deliver but rather because I feel that it places me in the happy position of representing graduates of the various branches of the profession of medicine, who through me say to these newcomers “Welcome”. The life of a student nurse is anything but an easy one. She chooses it, of course, because it interests her. But she comes into it at an age when so many of her school colleagues are embarkng upon a Ife of social pleasures, or on a business career that takes them into the centre of commercial activity where the hours are not too long and where their free time is theirs to use as they see fit. The student nurse finds that her hours of work are long; that her tasks are arduous and often menial; and that her leisure hours are short and controlled. Work becomes her design for living and discipline the key¬ note of her existence. Her opportunity to indulge in the social pleasures of her erstwhile contemporaries is limited. Frequently she is scolded by her supervisors, bullied by her doctors and berated by patients, and discipline demands that all of this she must accept -and accept pleasantly and with good grace, too often without even an opportunity to explain or to defend herself. She is bored by lectures, haunted by examinations, confused by the rules and regulations which govern the life of a hospital. It is assumed that she will never be tired, that she will always be cheerful, that the simple ringing of a bell will produce her presence more promptly than the rubbing of Aladdin’s Lamp made the geni appear. And through it all she must constantly be cater¬ ing to the whims of people who are as different in personality and temperament as night is from day. And yet, in the hospital, we learn to scan gently our fellow man, asking no questions, but meeting out to all alike hospitality, and deeming ourselves honoured in being allowed to act as its dispensers. Here too. one learns the three great lessons of life—and may I quote our own Sir William Osier: “Things cannot always go your way. Learn to accept in silence the minor aggravations, cultivate the gift of taciturnity, and consume your own smoke with an extra draught of hard work, so that those about you may not be annoyed with the dust and soot of your complaints. More than any other the pursuit of medicine may illustrate the second great lesson--that we are here not ct get all we can out of life for ourselves, but to try to make the lives of others happier. This is the essence of that oft-repeated admonition of Christ —“He that findeth his life shall lose it, and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it —on which hard saying if the children of this generation would only lay hold, there would be less misery and discontent in the world. It is not possible for anyone to have better opportunities to live this lesson than you of this graduating class will enjoy. The practice of medicine -and cer¬ tainly I include nursing—is an art, not a trade; a calling not a business; a calling in which your heart will be exercised equally with your head. Often the best part of your work will have nothing to do with potions and powders, but with the exercise of an influence of the strong upon the weak, of the right¬ eous upon the wicked, of the wise upon the foolish. To you the father will come with his anxieties, the mother with her hidden grief, the daughter with her trials, the son with his follies. Fully one-third of the work you do will be entered in other books than yours. Courage and cheerfulness will not only carry you over the rough places of life but will enable you to bring com- Forty-five