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

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Th ire ' s r long, long trail sending Tar 3each Utorlnj drive :nd roli-:ge w High on a •vindy hill ”aLsan -urlcal [28]

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and that night when a tub of water ac- cidentally splashed on two of the members of our class standing in the doorway bidding a final goodnight to their friends. But do you remember the day when we were capped? For a week after we would forget the added height of the cap and bump it against every Balkan frame. But now that we were capped we could give “I.M.’s.” Will you ever forget the first one you gave to that emaciated patient? Now, too, there was a class of probies behind us who would actually hold doors open for us in respect for our being older students. Some one says that she remembers the day she was bibbed much more easily because soon after she had her first night duty. With the first night duty came the realization that one could work all night without falling asleep. However, the numerous cups of coffee helped. Time certainly seemed to pass quickly. The days were filled with classes and ward work and the evenings never seemed long enough to discuss all that had happened during the day, to take long enough walks, to drink enough coke. Remember, though, the nights we poured cold water on the unsuspecting victims in the tub, made endless “pie beds,” sewed up all the pajama sleeves and legs, decorated rooms with yards of rolled paper and in general did anything to surprise the unwary per- son? A slight pause usually follows while everyone thinks a moment about that first year which at times seemed forever, but which in reality was only 365 days. The second year was different. In the aftermath of the celebrations of the ending of our first year, our class became sepa- rated. Some went to Haines, some to Mc- Lean, others to Eye and Ear and some to dear old B.L.I. Will you ever forget the wonder of your first delivery? How quiet those nurseries could be in the middle of the night. Of course, there was fun too. Remember the dance, the blind dates, the Saturday night serenades, and the fare- well party?? Back at the General again we slowly progressed by working at specialties such as the O.R. and pediatrics. Our experi- ences included long and upsetting searches for the lost sponge (later found in the nurse’s scrub gown) and our sudden sur- prised feeling when the io-year-old first night post-op, came down the corridor to meet us carrying his I.V. flask and trailing his suction tubing. Remember all this time how we were still wearing our blue uniforms which now were mostly thread- bare and patched, but still we had high hopes of receiving our checks. The numerous strokes of the jail house clock is a sudden reminder that ’tis late. Cigarettes are crushed, the empty box from home is pushed into the waste basket and the coke and milk bottles are strewn about the room left to be cleaned up in the morning. It’s almost another day, and who knows exactly what will happen in a student nurse’s day that will be a laughing mem- ory in some future evening? [27 ]

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Betty Chapman leaves her Southern accent and hospitality to some “damn Yankee.” Sis Karvellas leaves her endless foun- tain of wit to Bea Comstock. The easy-going tardiness and last min- ute shampoos of Anna Towhill are willed to Kay Hogan. Rita Krasinskas gives the krinkle of her nose back to Bugs Bunny. If you have noticed the newly acquired smile of Dotty Iwaniki, she inherited it from Eileen Sheehan who advises her not to use it in class. Irene Niedospal leaves her enthusiasm and persuasiveness to the powers that be. Mary Murphy leaves that doctor she never got around to asking to the formal. To B.L.I. affiliates who want to escape the evil eye of “Gravel Gertie,” Pat Northridge leaves her overnight address. To the new probies Evelyn Sabola leaves her bag of cigarette butts. Ruby Sundeen leaves her sultry voice to the musilophone girls. Mary Geiser leaves to join the ranks of faculty wives at Queens College. To Barbara Roser, Muriel Larose leaves her blind dates. Kay Collins leaves Dailey for the Indians. Grace Garrison refuses to leave her supper dates with Warren to anyone. Anyone missing books or uniform parts will find them when Dailey leaves. Fran Kisiel leaves an invitation to her graduation to the judiciary board. They have been inseparable. To any blue (mood not color) student at B.L.I. Virginia Goodwin leaves her memories of her last night there. Mary-Jane Shortlidge leaves a port- able ladder to the Vanderbilt boys. If Leslie Bayeur can find it, she will leave her alarm clock to Jr. Cislo. Marion Martell leaves a B.L.I. laun- dry table to those unable to sleep on our orthopedic beds. Jackie Fishel leaves her Brookline apartment to future class reunions. To the West side at McLean, Wenonah Marble leaves her gym outfit. Ardis Murray leaves her uncollected rent for the use of her typewriter to the fund for the new nurses’ home. Eleanor Gagan leaves her indecision to “Jenny” who couldn’t make up her mind either. To the “maniacs” who understand it, Timmy Roberts leaves her Maine accent. Ethel Todd leaves her book “The Horse and I” to Betty MacDonald. Pauline Roy leaves one of her Pauls to Selma Herman. Barbara Gray bequeaths her spats with the masculine sex to anyone who can grin and bear them. Sally Shea leaves Baker 6 and all the drainage bottles to hopeful urological nurses. Shirley O’Niel wills to the hospital a silent automatic contraption for moving beds at night in pediatrics. A new telephone system will be left by Arlene Wink to replace the 6ne she has worn out in Walcott. Lois Bloomouist goes back to Connecti- cut leaving the theological students to those lucky underclassmen. To knitting enthusiasts Connie Palmer leaves her latest publication, “How to Knit” or “Don’t Bring Your Troubles to Me.” Shirley Atwood leaves her three-year collection of signs and stuffed animals to the Franklin Park Zoo. [29]