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

Page 26 text:

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 ]

Page 25 text:

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 ]

Page 27 text:

being come into this world and to life was a truly remarkable sight. The nights on Richardson House and the good (?) fudge we made will never be forgotten —nor will the numerous beach parties in which we indulged!! We did manage to get into difficulties — strange visitors to our win- dows and sleeping in laundries — ooh that hard table!! Our truly great farewell party was the climax. I don’t know how we all managed to fit in that room, but when a certain supervisor walked in, we found so many places to hide. That was the fastest clean-up job a room ever re- ceived. Vacation again, and we returned rested and ready to face new problems and tasks. And so the days passed. Winter came with its billowy snow and we spent another Christmas in training. The Glee Club, so improved this year, caroled at North Sta- tion and on the radio. In January, Mc- Lean claimed a part of us. A vacation they said — but we remember all those floors we mopped and clothes we sorted and the continued refrain, “I want my tennis racquet!” Two big events in February- first our celebration of our second anniversary. Will we ever learn? The evening started and ended with a bang- -the trip home was something to remember. The second important event was that of receiving our senior bands— at last we were on the last lap of our journey in nursing and whether we admitted it or not, it helped our pres- tige to know we were seniors and to have those bands on our caps. At this time, plans for our senior activ- ities were started. Mrs. Crowley and Miss Raftery were chosen as advisors and with their help we were able to proceed. The main problem — that of raising funds for the yearbook loomed in the foreground. A gay strawberry festival on Bulfinch lawn in June was a sparkling success. In July our senior banquet was held at Hotel Sheraton. The Committee did a wonderful piece of work. In August, vaca- tions again — a short one this time for those who returned to M.G.H. only to leave for the Indians and the veterans. September arrived and several of the class found themselves to be student assistants — a job they never dreamed possible for themselves. “It’s here!” we said to one another as January came to a close. Rather hard to believe that the three years had already passed. Looking back, it seemed only yes- terday that we had eagerly blundered our ways to 92 Charles Street. And now, as graduate nurses, we separate, each to go her own way. We will never forget our three years at M.G.H., nor will we forget the many friends we made, the good times we had, the knowledge we gained. We leave with some regrets but we could never wish to prolong our three years or relive them for we are already looking forward to the future — to new fields — and new experiences! [23 ]