Massachusetts General Hospital School of Nursing - Yearbook (Boston, MA)

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From the four corners we came, north, south, east and west — all fifty-seven of us — eager for the future with the same goal in mind, but not one of us then realized our true destinies. Months of preparation had preceded our arrival — the correspondence, small at first, had increased rapidly in the latter weeks. If it wasn’t “your registra- tion of five dollars has been received,” it was “please forward birth certificate in duplicate.” Who doesn’t recall the anxious moments spent because she hadn ' t yet obtained a “fairly large briefcase,” a “washable blanket” or a “gym suit?” And through our minds raced the thoughts “20 grains equals 1 scruple” and 480 minims equals 1 fluid ounce” and to new-comers to Boston, the directions printed so care- fully, “from North Station, take a taxi, walk or take the subway to Park Street station, change to subway to Charles Street station and walk two blocks toward Boston Common” — all to add to our con- fusion. Somehow we made it. February 6, 1945, a bright, sunny, non-typical New England winter day found us esconced in our new residence at 92 Charles Street. There, amid hello, unpacking, introduc- tions, we met our future roommates. On the afternoon of our first day, the Ladies Visiting Committee and the Ladies Advisory Committee of the School of Nursing (whew) gave us a tea. Still carry- ing two to three inches of traveling dust and smoothing out our wrinkled skirts, we proceeded to locate the Walcott House, where we were introduced to our new in- structors. Following the tea was our formal introduction to the school by the director of nurses, Miss Sally Johnson. How hushed and subdued we were as we stood to attention when she walked to the head of the classroom and how attentive we were as she welcomed us to the school of nursing. Our first four months in the school, otherwise known as the “probie period” were hectic months filled with lectures, demonstrations, practice work of nursing procedures and a few hours a week on the wards. Those four months could be prop- erly termed “The Green Months” for we constantly came up against new situations which we might add, some of us didn’t handle so tactfully. Dormitory life too kept us occupied- -the nightly sessions in the smoker, the parties after hours, and the silly things we did such as running down Charles Street in pajamas to watch a fire; pulling a certain nurse through the window. We rarely lacked for dates during the war period when servicemen were abundant. Someone always ran through the “dorm” yelling, “Who wants a blind date?” How we kept those beau parlors occupied! Too much play could not do however, as we all had serious thoughts of capping. Those exams were “stiff” and we [21 ]

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really worried through that “final prac- tical.” Finally, the day came — June io — and we convened in Walcott house for the presentation of our caps by Miss Johnson. What a proud moment for each of us. How could we help but be “cap con- scious?” We looked forward eagerly to the next stepping stone — that of receiving our checks. But, O “alas,” little did we know that we were to herald a new era — that of “bibs ’n blues.” ’Twas the war, we were told and only a temporary arrange- ment — for two years that is. This did not hinder our work, but it did require fre- quent explanations as to our “status quo.” September rallied around and the first third of our class piously packed bags and belongings for their first vacation -so greatly needed by this time. This month also heralded the arrival of the new probies — the second section to enter after us. We really felt up in the world now with two groups behind us. And so the days passed we had now started specialties — some in the O.R., others in O.P.D., neu- rological and urological floors. How green we felt our first day in the O.R. — everyone scurrying to and fro in white gowns, masks and headgears. Our greenness was doubled, no tripled, on our first case. Remember how you gingerly held out the wrong glove to the surgeon. Contamina- tion?? Heavens, no — as one absent- minded nurse calmly taps her mouth to stifle a yawn — whilst holding a retractor! The arrival of December, plans for the Christmas formal, under our sponsorship, were started. Changing the traditional scene from Moseley to Walcott house was advocated and on the chosen night we joy- ously danced amid Christmas greens and mistletoe to the music of Ken Reeves. On February 6, to celebrate our first year in training, the “gang” visited “Blin- strub’s Village” — the evening was well spent— and spent, I mean. In March, half of the class started pediatrics, a new kind of nursing for most of us and what fun it was to bathe and feed the small babies as well as play with the older children. In the early part of June, we sponsored our second formal. This time in the Mose- ley Rotunda. Balloons of all colors deco- rated the ceiling and bridal wreath ob- tained by various persons from “ye es- planade” adorned trellises. The Vander- bilt Boys supplied the music — yes, it was music — and even indulged in a bit of singing. The dance was a huge success, but someone should have told the bugs to behave. B.L.I....T0 just anyone, those letters mean nothing, but to nurses of the M.G.H. and especially the Class of ’48, it meant three months of laborious work of head- gears and masks, block relief and nights. The work was new and different. We learned to bathe 30 babies in a few hours and to care for and teach the mothers. Delivery floor — one of the most thrilling places a nurse can work, not that we actually did so much, but watching a new [ 22 ]