Grace General Hospital - Our Days of Grace Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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ON SECOND THOUGHT Whatever I said in anger, Whatever I shouted in spite, I’m sorry I spoke so quickly, I thought of some worse ones tonight! THE MORNINGS It’s now 7:10 and I should arise, but I believe I’ll close my eyes ' Till 7:15, because I’ll save five minutes if I miss the rush In the bathroom with my toothbrush. I’m sure there isn’t any news, I’ll skip the radio and snooze ' Till 7:18 and then get dressed. I’ll wear yesterday’s blues — they don’t look messed And yesterday’s white seemed clean to me. Not changing clothes will save me three full minutes So I can snore serenely on ’till 7:24 — In fact, No breakfast suits me fine, I’ll get the gate —For now you know, I’m late — I’m late!! YOU CAN’T WIN I worry ’till I’m weary Of this problem grave and deep. Shall I sleep and miss my breakfast, Or shall I rise and lose my sleep? WRITE AND WRONG Things are often said quite biting, about a doctor’s way of writing — The heiroglyphic tracks of hen that burgeon underneath his pen. The hand that no one but his wife or a keen eyed druggist can decipher. But though the doctor’s script draws curses, it’s nothing to the nurses. A penmanship so full of scribbles and blots and blurs and inky dribbles, That records get to be so heinous. You can’t tell sinus” oft from anus.” Page 96

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HEARD AROUND . . . Who left the mess in the kitchen?” You’re contaminated!” Well! My side of the room is clean! Have you started to study yet? I have to get my case study done. When’s your day off?” Have you seen the orderly around? How many days ’till you finish?” ' 3:30 — 12:00, what do you think?” Darn it, that kitchen’s locked again!” Is that phone STILL busy?” Has your friend got a friend?” Where are you working now?” Is the change list up yet?” Have you got any spare uniforms?” What’s for supper?” “Don’t worry about a thing, Mr. Zimmerman — I’m beginning to catch onto this stuff.” Laugh, and the world laughs with you Weep, and you weep alone. For the sad old earth Must borrow its mirth It has troubles enough of its own. Rejoice, and men will seek you, Grieve, and they turn and go; They want full measure Of all your pleasure, But they do not want your woe. Sing, and the hills will answer, Sigh, it is lost on the air; The echoes bound To a joyful sound, But shrink from voicing care. Be glad, and your friends are many, Be sad and you lose them all; There are none to decline Your nectared wine, But alone you must drink life’s gall. Page 95

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PLEASE PATRONIZE THE THIS YEARBOOK POSSIBLE.