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

Text from Pages 1 - 104 of the 1966 volume:

MASSACHUSETTS GENERAL HOSPITAL SCHOOL OF NURSING 1966 M any tributes have been paid and many honors accorded Ruth Sleeper, especially during this year of her retirement, for she has accomplished many things as a registered professional nurse. Standing on the threshold of our careers, it seems appropriate that vve pause and consider Miss Sleeper’s own early days in nursing. We can know now how proud she must have been to wear the cap and pin that identi- fied her as a graduate of the MGH School of Nursing. And in the years to come, how proudly she carried these symbols with her as she became part of the World Health Or- ganization; as she accepted the Florence Nightingale award; as she returned “home” to direct our own school of nursing and nursing service. Busy as she was with administrative problems of the MGH, she still found time to help form the National League for Nursing and act as its president for two years. But neither words nor the tally of her achievements can tell the whole story. Nothing can adequately describe the blend of integrity, and warmth, and fineness that is Miss Sleeper’s own; that makes us stand when she enters a room, and that lingers almost tangibly after she has addressed a group, or lectured in the classroom, or just stop- ped to chat a moment. Thus, she leaves us more than the legacy of her accomplishments; she leaves in each of us a bit of herself which more than anything, reminds us of the true meaning of nursing. It is now for us to take up the lamp, and to wear the cap and pin of our school, proudly aware of the tradition which Miss Sleeper’s professional life symbolizes. 3 A MESSAGE FROM MISS SLEEPER Dear Seniors: Always, always more to see, more to learn, more to do! This was your past. More scientific and medical advances, more change and progress in nursing, more demands from Society to be met! This is your future. What will you do? To have a goal is a prime essential to a well organized and satisfying life. But a goal no matter how intellectually advanced or morally sound is vain unless this goal is motivated by personal feelings strong enough to furnish drive, overcome frustrations, and hold to the chartered course. Did you know that you now belong to a company of “chosen women”? You, yourself, of course first elected to become a nurse. But since your entrance into the School, your future has been influenced by a powerful force outside your control. Society, in its striving toward health for all people, has provided your opportunity, supported and shaped your program, and soon will grant you the coveted privilege to practice as a nurse. Perhaps your question now as you consider your future goal will be, “Am I adequate?” You have participated in the richest curriculum the School could offer. You have had access to the wealth of learning opportunities in one of the best clinical fields the Country can pro- vide. You have worked and learned with men and women, future leaders in the health pro- fessions. You have seen the demands to be faced when such leaders work together to provide patient care and study constantly to improve both care and cure. Surely you should feel adequate to this moment and aware of the means by which your adequacy can be assured for the future. From all of the Faculty the best of wishes. Welcome to you, sister alumnae! We shall hope to see you at the annual Alumnae Home- coming. Ruth Sleeper OUR TOWN 5 ! Boston is a city of history. Our forefathers greeted us at every corner, from Fanuiel Hall to the Lexington Green, from the Revere House to the Longfellow House. As newcomers we fol- lowed the tourists over the Freedom Trail, visited the State House, and explored Mrs. Jack’s palace. But as we came to know our town better, we took greater delight in the less conspicuous landmarks of Boston’s heritage: in a small bronze placque on the front of a build- ing we passed as we rushed somewhere; in a timeworn gravestone bearing the name of the first Lieutenant Governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony; in the ivy-covered walls on the other side of the Charles; in the gold and gilt of Symphony Hall; in a small amphitheatre with bicycle seats in the last row. For all of her Yankee breeding, our town made friends easily. She offered us her “left bank,” along the Charles River, where we so often went with troubles and came away with lifted spirits. A summer evening found us at the Public Garden wan- dering through the Arts Festival, or down by the Charles enjoying the latest from Mr. Fiedler and The Pops. ; i u ' I 6 We incorporated “The Hill,” with its own private Square, Louis- biu’g by name, its pur- ple window panes, its own Bulfinch buildings, all suffused with the faint aura of blue-blood. And the other side of the Hill: tiny cobble- stone streets, artist’s garrets, window boxes, lacy snowpatterns on wrought-iron balconies and, wonder of wonder, trees. Our own street offered its wares shamelessly. Antique shops without number, coffee houses, clothiers, boutiques, jewelers (who could pass Dana or Simon and Son without a peek in the window at the very latest.) Then there were the un- classifiables: the U.S. Post Of- fice, the Thrift Shop, The Sev- ens, and number 42, a strang- ler’s delight. And our old haunts: Riverside, Epstein’s, The Spiral Bookstore, The Pizza Shop, and Mr. Och’s place, which speaks for itself. For the adventurous there was sailing on the Charles and ice skating in the Common. And just beyond the Common was the adventure of Washington Street and Filene’s basement on a Saturday morning. 7 8 Fate, destiny, chance — whatever one ehooses to call it, the very forces which brought us together three years ago will scatter us. I ALL THAT CAN HAPPEN A Song for M. G. H. Words by Margaret Dieter, 1916 Her ivied columns rise to meet The glory of the Bulfinch dome, Serene, unruffled, beautiful. She waits to bid us welcome home. From many lands, o’er many days. We brought to her our restless youth. And she with patience took us all And set us in the way of truth. Stern Teacher, kindly too, withal, Who saw the faults we could not hide. And building on our better selves. She wrought results that shall abide. What if she gave us arduous toil. She taught us reverence for our work; To ease the suffering, lighten pain There is no task we dare to shirk. When life and death are side by side. And creeds and races strangely blend. To share these things from day to day She helped us each to find a friend. Oh, Gracious Guardian of our past. Thy children rise to honor thee, God bless and keep you, M. G. H. Secure through all the years to be. 10 iIN A THOUSAND DAYS... 11 1 i 1 I MISS N. PETZOLD Assistant Director of Nursing MISS H. SHERWIN Freshman Year Coordinator i I 12 f MISS H. SHERWIN MRS. G. WEAVER Social Sciences MISS F. GIBBONS Anatomy and Physiology First Year Nursing Instructors Miss M. DeSousa, Mrs. Childress, Miss B. Ells- worth, Miss J. Rogert, Mrs. B. Murphy, Miss A. Brady, Miss F. Green. MRS. A. NOZOWA MRS. R. PITT Chemistry 13 k, MISS J. KIERNAN Microhiologij MRS. ELLIS Nutrition MISS GANN Guidance Counselor MISS KILEY Guidance Counselor MRS. DOLAN DR. J. KELLER Health Supervisors 14 1 J L Ji Left to right Row 1 — Abbe, E.; Abram, B.; Acheson, W.; Alessi, M.; Arnold, S.; Arnone, M.; Atwood, D.; Barboza, N.; Bartolo, M.; Bend J. Row 2 — Bolstridge, V.; Bradley, V.; Brien, D.; Brown, G.; Brunette, S.; Burns, R.; Cannata, E.; Coach, G.; Cole, L.; Collins, A. R( 3 — Cope, P.; Cox, E.; Crawford, P.; Damon, N.; Davis, M.; Dayton, D.; Debes, J.; Dionne, M.; Domurad, B.; Donahue, M.; Donnelly, Durkee, P. t f ai SECTION I Left to right Row 1 — Dwyer, S.; Egan, M.; Elliott, M.; Fisher, S.; Foley, B.; Fournier, N.; Freeman, L.; Garrett, B.; Gill, J.; Glidden, ' Row 2 — Golden, J.; Goodwin, E.; Gordon, J.; HaU, E.; Hamisch, B.; Harrington, M.; Hayward, L.; Hession, T.; Howell, D.; Iselin, Row 3 — Johnson, M.; Kennedy, M.; Kvelums, R.; Lacey E.; Lassen, C.; Lee, G.; Lincoln, L.; Littlejohn, A.; Lomax, J.; Lowe, D.; M Carthy, E. )V ' n SECTION II 16 y Left to right Row 1 — McCarty, T.; McDonough, H.; McGlew, S.; McLaughlin, McNeely, A.; McNiff, M.; MacDougall, E.; MacMillan, A. i J.; Maloney, M. Row 2 — Messina, C.; Mijal, K.; Milani, M.; Molloy, B.; Morreale, M.; Morris, M.; Mudgett, B.; Murray, H.; Myers, J.; llyj Narkevicius, A. Row 3 — Newton, N.; Nierone, R.; Norton, M.; Oliver, E.; Olsen, D.; O’Neill, S.; Orr, M.; Oxley, J.; Page, S.; Parmalee, I J.; Pasinski, A. I SECTION III I i I I ,1 Left to right Row 1 — Peterson, A.; Peterson, J.; Petrino, J.; Pierce, S.; Pike, S.; Pollen, E.; Purdy, D.; Pyre, N.; Riehm, J.; Robbins, R. lj.J Row 2 — Seaton, F.; Shulkin, P.; Shyne, M.; Smith, D.; Smith, M.; Souza, P.; Starses, E.; Sundt, S.; Svenson, S.; Sweeney, J. Row 3 — I TemuUo, M.; Treanor, K.; Walsh, S.; West, C.; Wilkes, N.; Wdlman, M.; Wilson, L.; Wipprecht, S.; Wirts, Leslie; Woodruff, F.; Zebora, K. SECTION IV 17 A wisp of black and white caught fleetingly as we rushed to meet countless deadlines; here a smile, there a single tear: fragments of ourselves which may be found in every corner of the hospital. These we leave behind, small token for the part of MGH we carry away with us now. We take with us the most precious gift, knowledge; and countless snatches of memory. Calling upon those memories now, they come rushing and tumbling, falling easily into their places in each year. 18 r; I I t I How vividly we remember that warm September day when The Lincolnshire opened its doors wide to receive one hundred twenty-five young women, eager yet timid, reaching out for maturity yet clinging mightily to the last remnants of girlhood. The old hotel creaked under the weight of trunks, boxes, suitcases and stuffed animals, anything portable, totable or dragable . . . (“But, Mother, I might need my five formals, skis, bathing suit and T ' set.”) ... If only our big sister had told us that all we really needed were a toothbrush and alarm clock! The days passed in rapid suc- cession, and we cultivated the MGH stride on our daily march down Charles Street to the Mecca. At six o’clock on any particular morning we owned that old cow- path! 19 In between breaks came grinding hours of study, the attempt to assimilate a body of knowledge we felt at times could not be learned in a thousand years, let alone a thousand days. In those days, “The MGH Way” seemed always a little beyond our grasp. So we made beds ad nauseam in the lab far into the night; so we injected pil- lows and oranges with air. But somehow it wasn’t quite the same when we were presented with our very own real live patients. “Hello, I’m Miss Fisher and I’m going to be tjour nurse this morning, and would you like a backrub?” 20 We had, fortunately, the Junior Proc- tors, living proof that surviva l in dis- aster was possible, and our kindly big sisters who seemed at the time so know- ing, so accomphshed. Life at The Lincolnshire included, of necessity, escape. With every weekend off, some of us went home, some to fraternity parties, and some to self- styled TGIF parties. And some of us simply shut our doors and went to sleep, content to let MGH and the world rush by without us for awhile. For all of the diversion Boston offered, there was no escaping January twenty-fourth, day number one of our “week that was,” when we were buried under such an avalanche of exams that some of us never saw dayhght again. Trips away from Gharles Street were few and even Scharaff’s lost its appeal. We were well-acquainted, too, with that old Monday morning feehng as we returned to an exam or two or three, ready to G R, to examine the innards of our yellow rats, to ponder the Hopi way, to flame our loops, to give our patients that old one-two: back care, mouth care and emotional support. We even learned to make a flaxseed poultice (thank heavens for Hydro- colator packs ) . Phrases drift across the span, sifted from the complex maze of our daily activity: ... In Dr. Mead’s article, I beheve that’s number 739 on your yellow list . . . You’re going to be in seeerious trouble . . . Judy Germ . . . The Smile . . . When I worked at the Gity there was a patient who . . . Now, Girls . . . But which femur is it? . . . Pith it yourself ... A nurse? Just a minute. I’ll get you one . . . You’re here for education, not service . . . The which cycle? . . . At MGH we hold the washcloth this way. J 21 Came that morning in November, our first day on the wards. Bihless, we came in clusters, weak-kneed from excitement and fear. At last we were really nurses— or so we thought. Dutifully, we noted the fire equipment, the nurses’ station, the medicine closet, and the tail-capped Seniors with their knowing smiles, at once benevolent and sympathetic. We met the watchful eyes of our instructors over that pile of linen under which, somewhere, was our patient. No sooner had we mastered one technique than new challenges faced us: The bedbath, the Clinitest, foot care, and that most challenging first in a student’s career, the first injection. As the summer came, we would spend our lunch hour on the now extinct Bulfinch lawn, or suggest to the T.L. that our patient might like to go outside for a while (right, Mrs. X?). On rainy days we would await the dinner hour on White 3A, where there was always something new to see. la 22 Now the air was filled with the anticipation of junior year. Willingly we would part with the lowly “S-1” title, shrug off the weights of twelve long months and make our lives as portable as possible for our coming travels. We would bequeath to the incoming freshman of this and all years, the summation of the comprehensive experience of the first year: Ya Gotta Wanna! OCTOBER 16, 1846 The Beginning of a Great Era In Surgery OCTOBER 16, 1963 The Beginning of a Great Error In Surgery 23 The Spirit of ’66 A ladder, lightbulbs and lollipops: these are the tools of the trade of a devoted MGH employee, knowm affectionately by every student nurse simply as “Dave.” Dave is the official keeper of lightbulbs at the MGH and conscientiously replaces flickering bulbs in many areas of the hospital. But his real specialty is befriending student nurses. It is no secret that freshmen feel insecure and uncertain; even taking p.o. temperatures can seem an enormous task when you’ve never done it before. But somehow, just when a freshman’s confidence reaches its lowest ebb (and that can be pretty low) she encounters Dave (or is it perhaps the other way round ) . His eyes alight with a knowing twinkle, he pauses and offers his vote of confidence— a lollipop. Be it red, yellow or green, this extra bit of encouragement is often all that is needed to keep a tired freshman going; this, and the knowledge that Dave believes in her, and in all of us, and has accepted us as part of the “MGH family.” 24 ope goes ip this cityASostop reminds one of the earliest straggles of a youiig nation to be bfan and to prosper. At no oifee ' jKrrte did we feel our heritage more acutely than on we shared with BosR«iians the loss of Jdfcn Kennedy. We shall remember of our U s the stunning t day, smd our own very persona 4 tq s|o4k Wiff- Xid it is wdl that we should remembl 25 Junior year is fragments: our class, our year, our experiences, all broken into discrete parts. Obstetrics, pediatrics, public health and psychiatry- : each area touched off something dif- ferent in us; and each of us came away with her own special feelings about her experiences. Sharing the kaleidoscope of memories we had gathered during the year we found that, de- spite the variety of our individual feelings and experiences, we had grown togther. I WAM.,T r 26 MISS K. HARDEMAN Second and Third Year Coordinator Junior Proctors Seated: Mrs. B. Abram, Miss J. MacMillan. Standing: Miss B. McCarthy, Miss L. Wilson, Miss C. Messina, Miss D. Howell, Miss S. Lynch, Miss M. Amone. 27 NURSING CARE OF AMBULATORY PATIENTS Teach! no p The •p UTMv ed • ® ? Mother OroQ Addicrion Today the community.. It tomorrow the world! V MISS M. GRADY |i MISS M. MULRY Public Health I- ' ll ' MISS HYLAND MISS PELUSSI Public Health 29 The Clinics marked a radical change in our routine. The bed baths, blood pressures and breakfast trays to which we had at last become accustomed were left on the wards, to be now carried out by the new seniors in their tall caps and the bibless, tremulous freshmen who took our place (did tOe ever look like tliat?). In six short weeks we did more bib cards, projects, posters and speech making than in all the rest of our training combined. Each day found two or three of us out in the district or the local health department trying to unearth chemicals in our water or smoke in our air; a myriad of health problems too numerous to name. “Today the Community, Tomorrow, the World!” was our motto as we side-stepped garbage cans and ducked under low-flying pigeons. 30 Teach was the bv ' word, and teach we did as we strode, undaunted, beside the public health nurses on our “day in the district”; as we directed people from clinic to clinic to pharmacy to cashier; as we tried to break up the long hours our patients had to wait to see a doctor; as we drew bloods in Medi- cal Clinic (“It’s alright. Ma’am, the first tube is always just cells.”). Aside from teaching and its place in the care of patients, there were many things to be learned: “In terms of posters, girls,” . . . “Remember, public utilities are not carriers.” . . . “Which agency could help this patient?” . . . “This film will show you the effects of salmonella.” These six weeks were the beginning of a slower pace, a pace which gave us time to enjoy what we did and what we saw, to enjoy the noise and bustle of each clinic, and to laugh at our useless attempts to master the secretarial aspects of nursing in the O. P.D. Most welcome was the extra time we found each day to talk and to listen. OBSTETRICS 32 “Gentlemen! This is the arch under which every youthful candi- date for immortality must pass, and is the first hazard to be over- come along the path to our ultimate destination.” These are the words of Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, instructing a group of medical students on the anatomy of the pelvic arch. They serve to set the tone of our thoughts about B.L.I., for as we look back now, obstetrics was the most lighthearted of our rotations. “Hospital,” we found, could have other mean- ings than those we had discovered at the General. “Joy” and “new birth” were just as much a part of life as the harshest of truths at the M.G.H. 33 After that first month of classes, B.L.I. beeame, perhaps because of the nature of things, more of a hap- pening than an organized sequence of events. “B.L.I. days, B.L.I. days, dear old golden labor days”: sunrise over Longwood Avenue .... “Miss Dring, Miss Dring” .... “You take the ward. I’ll take the desk.” .... “Now you take that child, and” .... coffee breaks in the utility room .... “Welcome to premie nursery .... you are on the day shift, 2:30 to 11 P.M.” . . . . “Nothing to worry about, just tip him over and pat him on the back.” .... “You call this (ouch) asleep?” “Sparine, Scopolomine and Seconal, made all the patients just” .... “Aspirin? Just a minute. I’ll have to page the supervisor” .... “You delivered what ?!?” .... “200 of o.j., stat.” . . . . clinic mothers (and clinic mother papers) .... speedy elevator service (“If you can’t get it up, call Otis.”) .... good food! (but no seconds) .... penthouse parties known far and wide. 34 Even our mistakes were not too serious: “Does any- one know if Schiller’s is a removable stain?” .... Sitz baths that lasted two hours .... Mary D., water slosh- ing over the tops of her black shoes and seeping under the nursery door, trying to figure out how to turn off the autoclave .... “Jane, that’s not the phisohex dis- penser; it’s my foot!” The characters we encounter during our three months seemed to fit in perfectly with the other aspects of our rotation: Nu- trition classes with 6MB .... “We bathe the baby in this particular manner, girls.” (No matter where we went, we al- ways seemed to be addressed en masse as “girls.”) .... Made- line .... The Dr. White .... “In zis was we gavage ze enfant” “Check that fetal heart; time those contractions!” .... “I am Miss Peterson and this is my nursery and these are my babies.” (All twenty-eight?) .... Of course, obstetrics did have a more serious side: the thrill of seeing a new life begin; the look on a new father’s face when he sees his child for the first time; the shy questions of a young mother; the sense of wonder about this tiny, perfect person you hold so gently in your arms. These are the won derful things we shall remember as part of an experience with life. 35 TO A STUDENT Forget about communication, interpersonal relations, interaction — overt, covert. My name is Able. I am hurt. Talk with me and hold my hand. Come back tomorrow to understand. Walcott House Housemother Miss D. Mahoney, Miss Franco, Miss Bernard, Miss M. J. Nassar, Mrs. C. Schuster and daughter. 37 Having been a child at one time is not the only prerequisite for pediatric nursing. We discovered this after our first two minutes in the chaos of Burn- ham 4, 5, and 6. Somehow, the children who confronted us were different than we had expected — not as sad, much louder, more clever — and we reahzed that it would take more than just having been young once to get through three months of Pedi in one piece. “Pedi” is a ward east of the sun and west of the moon . . . where children are identified by “SAVE ALL URINE” and “NPO” signs pinned to their pajamas, where injections are really “bee stings” and disposable syringes become water pistols. It is a land of chocolate milk and playladies . . . and checkered student nurses. To enter this magic place, we had to perform several tasks. The first task was to endure the witches of the North as they demonstrated their skills. The “now stu-dents” witch shared her skills with croup tents and told us stories about the battered child syndrome, hypospadias, and tetralogy of Fallot. The medicine witch gave us tasty morsels of KCl to sample and showed us “Pedi drips.” And the “first aid” witch showed us how to cope with such emergencies as kicked shins and bites. Our second task was to become fa- miliar with the goblins (doctors) and elves (children). Their job was to test our patience. We responded to the gob- lins’ commands to “FF 3000 c.c. daily” by coaxing the elves to drink from glasses, medicine cups, bottles, or any other container that would hold over one c.c. of liquid . . . always urging them to “make the funny sound in the bottom.” We assured dying elves that there icere tunafish sandwiches in heaven; greeted Jose with “Buenos dias”; no-no’d smearers; made puzzles, were puzzled, and finally got through on lolli- pop bribes. At Christmas, we were in- vited to a party and celebrated with “Hardy” old Saint Nick himself. Our third and final task was to adorn ourselves in pink armor and enter the battleground as playladies. Paint and paper were our ammunition and only means of defense. A dungeon awaited those of us who had never heard of gimp. After three months we emerged from the land of chil- dren, but, unlike most fairytales, we learned that the end- ing is not always happy. 39 PSYCHIATRIC NURSING At McLean, we found ourselves suddenly without the defenses one tends to cultivate so handily in other areas of nursing. Our only tools were our selves. The anguish we saw in others was our own anguish magnified one hundred fold; their loneliness was our loneliness given a voice; their faces were our faces distorted by forces we may never fully understand. And our only tools were our selves. L h :| I II j i Instructors i I j Mrs. Makin, Mrs. Buckman, Mrs. j I Hart, Miss Clemente, Mrs. Selby, I ' Mrs. Smith, Mr. Buckman. I ■ ' I |j i ' i 41 Perhaps because of the inten- sity of our experiences at Mc- Lean, we relished our moments of relaxation. All of us at one time or another joined the mara- thon bridge game in the second floor alcove which, according to well-informed sources is still go- ing on, despite the change of players ever) ' three months. Cards were only put aside to make room for one of our in- famous parties, which featured such adult delights as pin-the- tail-on-the-housemother. i — In winter our energy was liberated with snowball fights and bobsledding; in summer there were long walks, rain or shine, and the sometimes dubious joy of Crane’s Beach every Thurs- day. Two feelings were common to all of us no matter what the season: “whew,” at the end of the long trek up the hill from Waverly Square; and the hunger pangs as we headed en masse for the coffee shop after dinner in the cafeteria. T 1 I f Once each week we gathered in Hig- ginson House basement for classes, where we tried to find answers to such burning questions as: What was Flor- ence Nightingale really like? How do you teach table manners to a sLxty- seven year old schizophrenic with no teeth? Who is Sary Gamp? These re- main a mystery, but other questions were probed more deeply: in classes such as Mrs. Hart’s famous dramatiza- tion of the neirrotic personality; in Sam Bowman’s conferences, sparked by his tremendous enthusiasm; in discussions with Miss Ladd which made us ex- amine our own depths as well as those of our patients. Perhaps McLean raised more ques- tions than it answered; perhaps it raised questions to which we are still seeking answers. But, most important, it taught us to heed those questions, and that it is not the answers that count so much as the search. And our only tools, our greatest tools, are our selves. 43 MRS. M. HIBBARD Housemother Senior Class Advisors 45 Senior Nursing Instructor MISS M. KEELEY MRS. CALOGIRO (absent) Operating Room Instructors MISS A. CAHILL MISS J. MASTRANGELO Alternate Program Instructors MISS M. DeSOUZA MISS E. ZINSMEISTER ■46 Senior Class Officers A. Collins, president; J. McLoughlin, vice-president; M. Egan, secretary; J. Lomax, treasurer; S. Karakla, corresponding secretaiy ' . S.N.C.A. Officers B. Abram (president), T. Hession, D. How- ell, B. Martin (absent). N.S.N.A. Representatives B. Abram, C. Messina I.C.N. Representative A. Collins August was a month of famous last words: “This isn’t meant to scare you, girls .... Things will get better after October .... Technically, you are part of nursing service, hut actually .... You will have three evenings of orientation to relief dutv .... A few of vou mav have to be a team leader before having the experience . A-XY-THIXG ELTH?? And suddenly, as we were worrying our way through classes on cardiac mas- sage and emergency drugs, August was gone and so was our last remnant of protection against the harsh realities of Senior Year, the flat cap. How proud we were as the tall caps crowned each of our classmates in turn, as we accepted with full hearts Miss Sleeper’s challenge to continue learning and growing, and as we recited the Nightengale pledge, now with deeper understanding and renewed committment. 48 September tenth found us back at work as usual, but two inches taller this day than we had been the day before. At twelve cents an hour, the S3 was the biggest bargain this side of Filene’s. We functioned in every capacity from dispatch to die- tary: T.L. and Team on White 7, jack-of-all-trades in the O.R., chief cook and bottom-washer in Bulfinch. 49 Classes once a week offered a break from the routine of work; “During this hour, Dr. Blank will discuss the causes, symptoms, treatment and complications of renal failure, including a short discussion of dialysis and transplants. The second hour will be devoted to nursing care” .... Daddy, daddy, buy me a bomb shelter .... There is a 600 bed, inflatible hospital, filled with 600 inflatible patients— you are the nurse-neighbor .... An itemized budget will be required .... (In White 5’s plaster room ) : “Here we have Miss Sundt, a 90 year old lady who slipped j on the ice and rolled all the way down Grove Street into the E.W., | right. Miss Sundt?” .... I know you worked last night and you have to work tonight, but that’s no excuse for sleeping in class ; today .... I 50 Hi k s There were, occasionally, nights when we didn’t have to work. “Your Father’s Moustache,” and other lively spots were favorite off duty haunts. And of course there were cultural activities in which we could now partici- pate because of our steady income. When funds ran low, or when we got hungry ( usually about an hoiu ' after dinner in the cafeteria), many of us could be found at The Church, having coffee with George, et cetera. . i 51 Challenges were an e er da - occurrence during Sen- ior Year, today’s always seeming a little more insur- mountable than yesterday’s. But even our most diffi- cult difficulties shrank to insignificance when compared to that eight week traumatizer of student nurses, the operating room. The White building tested our organizational powers; Bulfinch taught us, among many other things, patience; but the O.R. was something else, something entirely unlike anything in our e.xperience. Our first week was spent in classes, where in five short days w e learned all of the major techniques, all of the instruments on the Mayo stand, all of the equipment in a major pack and all those sutures ( oh, those 802 ’s! ) 52 At the end of five days of intensive in- struction and untold hours of extra-curricular practice with our gloves, we faced our first work day in the O.R. with something close to terror in our hearts. Indeed the only things which kept some of us upright in our plastic boots were a smile and a word from Miss Cahill, who understood so completely and who cared so much about each of us. But the O.R. proved to be as enjoyable as it was fearsome. There was a thrill in being part of the pump team, in studying anatomy first hand, in having your very own case to do ( septic though it might be. ) There was pleasure in an unexpected, “Well done,” from the surgeon; in getting back on Satur- day afternoon the extra hours you gave on Friday night; in getting set up in time for coffee and peanut butter before your eight o’clock case. And there was laughter: I’m working for Mother today .... handing the scrub nurse a kit pan holder without the kit pan .... Two minutes— by the clock .... “There will be no sighing in the O.R.” .... pul-ease, pul-ease .... Which do you think would mend my stockings better, 2-0 or 3-0 silk? 53 Surv’hing the O.R. without an ’ permanent scars was, we felt, some- thing of an accomplishment. And so it was a small, but very proud group who received cheers from the rest of us once every eight weeks. Aprons once again in place, a few short hours on Bulfinch 5 refreshed the delicate skills that were dormant during the previous ro- tation. And the challenges grew in number: you and Flash on your first relief in Bulfinch; you alone at 3am, peering down the long, dark corridors of the Baker building; you racing down the hall with the emergency cart on B3, so scared that you feared for your own cardiac status; you volunteering for over- time on the nights of the Blackout and the Combat Zone dis- aster; you on a Sunday, trying to get through the cafeteria line before your lunch time was over; you and White 7’s West wing on a Saturday morning. 54 r And soon we found ourselves looking back from the vantage point of July and August. We began to be able to laugh about our own awkwardness in the early days of Senior Year; we began to I count down the days in Ajax on the kitchen win- I dows; we began to think beyond September to I jobs and weddings and the world that awaited us. I I As it had been in the operating room, so it was through each of our rotations: we were indeed awk- ward at first; the job seemed too big; they asked too much of us. But they knew, better than we, what they were asking. Slowly we grew into our tall caps, met the challenges, and gained confi- dence in our knowledge and training. 56 W ' ith more than the usual number of time requests, the week of August 8th arrived, destined to be recorded in history as “Senior Week.” o seniors were to be found on the wards of MGH the night of August 9th; besides being Jean MacMillan’s birth- day, it was the night of our Senior Banquet at the Charter House. All I.D.’s were left behind and we sipped cocktails before dinner in a most ladylike fashion, while slyly glancing to see which instructors dared drink in front of Miss Sleeper. More informal, yet with the superb touch of “Mama Aug- liera,” was the spaghetti supper on Bartlett roof. But the traditional background music of Santa Lucia gave way to the words of Tom Lear as he recalled “This is the Year That Was.” 57 The social highlight of Senior W ' eek was, of course, our prom. Forsaking our black and white checks for that ver ' spe- cial dress made us fine ladies of leisure, at least for one night. 58 U ' Nothing could dampen our spirits as we hoisted our skirts over the dust of Blossom Street and were whisked away to the Hotel Somerset where we danced the night away. Diamonds glittered, gentlemen beamed, and the young ladies of the train- ing school in Boston had themselves one fine time. k 59 A tradition died, sadly, with the Checkerboard Cafe- teria. The ceremonial shedding of student uniforms was no longer possible— in public. But small groups, armed with bandage scissors, awaited us as we entered Bartlett at 3:30 on our last day in black .shoes and stockings. Meeting en masse “Would you believe I work on B-3?” 60 V . . . and spring came to the Bulfinch lawn View from the top “I asked for a Greek god, but Where have all the flowers gone? 61 The feeling we all had at Capping was one of great pride— in our school, in our uni- form, and in our profession. And we e.xpe- rienced this feeling once again, more in- tensely if possible, at Graduation. Standing in that huge auditorium, the familiar, well- loved faces seemed somehow different to- day: older, perhaps, than yesterday and a little strange in the still unfamiliar “whites.” 62 Each of us was alone with our thoughts in that last, hushed moment before we stepped out into the auditorium. Alone and yet, perhaps, closer together than we had ever been, for we knew as one in that small moment, “why.” Our three years stood as we stood: the tears and frustrations, the hours of study and of lost sleep, the doubts, the fears, the aching tiredness and the longing at times to give up. And here was why, contained in a tiny, silent moment. , And the long white line began to move slowly j forward. BETTYE JEAN ABRAM Natchez, Miss. MARIA ALESSI Wakefield, Mass. PAULA ALFIERI Brighton, Mass. VIRGINIA BRADLEY APANOVITCH Windsor, Conn. MARY ELIZABETH ARNONE Chatham, Mass. I 64 FRANCES ANN AUGLIERA Winchester, Mass. DIANE E. AVERY Reading, Mass. : i PATRICIA SOUZA BALESTRA N. Dartmouth, Mass. I GRACE B. BIANCULLI Dorchester, Mass. i j 65 VIRGINIA ANN BOLSTRIDGE South Windsor, Gonn. 66 r GERALDINE ANNE COACH Westfield, Mass. ANN MARIE COLLINS Worcester, Mass. CYNTHIA M. CONANT Boston, Mass. 67 PEGGY ELIZABETH GOPE Ossipee, N.H. MICHELE DIONNE COUTURE Lebanon, Conn. PATRICIA MARY CRAWFORD S. Groveland, Mass. MAUREEN DAVIS Chestnut Hill, Mass. 68 DEANNE C. DAYTON Chelsea, Mass. MARY JANE DONNELLY Brockton, Mass. PATRICIA ABIGAIL DURKEE Haverstraw, N.Y. SUZANNE WINIFRED DWYER Arlington, Mass. MARY TERESA EGAN Worcester, Mass. V 69 SUSAN LINDLEY FISHER Boston, Mass. KATHLEEN M. FITZGIBBON Brighton, Mass. BEVERLY B.L. FOLEY Trumbull, Conn. NANCY LOUISE FOURNIER Lawrence, Mass. JUDITH FRASER Somerville, Mass. 70 LINDA JANE FREEMAN Hillsdale, N.J. CAROL ANN GARANT Fall River, Mass. BONNIE GARRETT Mendon, Mass. JANE ELIZABETH GIUFFRE E. Walpole, Mass. I 71 JANET MARIE GOLDEN Saugus, Mass. E. JANE GOODWIN Haverhill, Mass. JULIET GORDON New Gastle, Pa. GATHERINE F. GRAY Milton, Mass. JANE PARMELEE GUTERMUTH Malden, Mass. 72 BARBARA J. HARNISCH Indian Springs AFB, Nev. 1 WINIFRED T. HIRANO Winchester, Mass. JACQUELINE PETERSON JOHNSON W. Springfield, Mass. , ii M. GWENDOLYN JOHNSON Westwood, Mass. CYNTHIA K. INGALLS Swansea, Mass. 74 MARY ANN JONES Somerville, Mass. SUZANNE MARIE SVENSON KAHILL Portland, Me. SUZANNE MARIE KARAKLA Boston, Mass. ANNETTE M. KASABIAN Newton, Mass. ROTA KVELUMS Halifax, Mass. 75 CHRISTIANA FORD LASSEN North Lima, Ohio MARTHA LEAVITT Grove ton, N.H. GLORIA JADE LEE Watertown, Mass. JAGQUELYN ANN LOMAX Penns Grove, N.J. DEBORAH A. LOWE West Upton, Mass. 76 HELENA SHIELA ANN LYNCH Bangor, Me. ELIZABETH ANN McCARTHY Walpole, Mass. KAREN L. McGAUGHEY Swampscott, Mass. SUSAN ANN McGLEW Buzzards Bay, Mass. JEAN ELLEN McLAUGHLIN Brockton, Mass. ELLEN MARIE McLEOD N. Weymouth, Mass. ANN F. McNEELY Somerville, Mass. MARY ANN McNIFF Wollaston, Mass. 78 r KAREN M. MAKELA Lowell, Mass. TV ' MARGARET LAURANA MALONEY Brighton, Mass. i 1 I BARBARA MARTIN ■ Natick, Mass. t CARLENE ROBERTA MESSINA Billerica, Mass. MARY ANN MILANI Dorchester, Mass. 79 MELANIE LOUISE MOORE Goffstown, N.H. BETSY A. MUDGETT Albertson, N.Y. HELENE E. MURRAY Riverside, R.I. ANGELA NARKEVIGIUS Gardner, Mass. MARY LUCILLE NORTON Meriden, Conn. LYNNE WARING O’LOUGHLIN Boston, Mass. ELAINE MARIE OLIVER Chelsea, Mass. DONNA MARIE OLSEN Malden, Mass. SUSAN MARY O’NEILL W. Medford, Mass. M. SUZAN ORR LaCanada, Cal. ANGELIKA CHRISTINE PASINSKI Lowell, Mass. MARIA KATHERINE PAWLEK Kittery, Me. CAROL PEARSON Belmont, Mass. 82 r j , ASTRID OLGA PETERSON Malden, Mass. SUSAN LYNNE PIERCE Melrose, Mass. I j DIANE LYNNE PURDY Wayland, Mass. NANCY THOR PYRE Brewer, Me. JUDITH ANN REICHERS Brighton, Mass. 83 JOAN M. RIEHM Winchester, Mass. REGINA ROBBINS SENNOTT Cambridge, Mass. PAxMELA JANE SHULKIN Swampscott, Mass. DIANE NATALIE SMITH Falmouth, xMass. JANET LEE PETRINO SPEED Brighton, Mass. 84 SUSAN JANE SUNDT Boston, Mass. JOANNE SWEENEY Watertown, Mass. MARIANNE TERNULLO Belmont, Mass. 85 KATHLEEN WELCH Chatham, N.Y. DIANNE C. BLACKALL WELLS Saiinderstown, R.I. M. KATHLEEN R. WILLMAN Cambridge, Mass. LAUREN WILSON Groton, Vt. FAY WOODRUFF Belmont, Mass. KATHRYN MARY ZEBORA Watertown, Conn. In Memorium EMILY LACEY Keene, N.H. MGH 1966 Co-editors: Frances Augliera Patricia Balestra Janet Lee Speed Editorial Staff : Susan Fisher Mary Egan Penni Shulkin Diane Purdy We would like to e.xpress our appreciation to all those who contributed to and assisted with the publication of MGH-1966. Every suggestion, candid picture, advertisement, and word of encouragement has enabled us to act on your behalf in the pro- duction of our yearbook. FRIENDS OF THE CLASS OF 1966 Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Souza Mr. and Mrs. Robert Seaton Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Howell Mr. and .Mrs. Russel Bolstridge Mr. and Mrs. Anthony Petrino Mr. and Mrs. J. M. Pyre Mr. and Mrs. Blair Fletcher Epstein’s Drugstore Mr. and Mrs. Fred Shulkin Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Brien Mr. and Mrs. John D’Apolito Mr. and Mrs. Smith Midshipman Richard Alan Petrino Mr. and Mrs. Richard Gill Mrs. Helen Katibah Mr. and Mrs. John Mudgett Mr. and Mrs. Chester Lowe Mr. and Mrs. Freeman Mr. and Mrs. Sundt Mrs. Mary Fallon Mr. and Mrs. Dominick Petrino Mr. and Mrs. William Co.x Mr. and Mrs. Albert Capuro Mrs. Mildred Dayton Dr. and Mrs. C. Wilmer Wirts Mrs. Margaret McXeely Mr. and Mrs. William R. Fisher Mr. and Mrs. William Garrett Mrs. Edwina Smith Mr. and Mrs. Norton Mr. and Mrs. Edward Manzi Mr. and Mrs. Murray Mr. and Mrs. Michael Wolfe Mr. and Mrs. Albert Zebora Mr. and Mrs. Carl E. Messina Mrs. Charles Augliera Mr. and Mrs. Donald Svenson Mrs. Roman Pasinski Mr. and Mrs. Dominic Cannata VIr. and VIrs. Joseph Oxley Mrs. Angela Mangiafridda Dr. and Mrs. Smith Mr. and Mrs. John Manfredonia Mrs. Milani Mr. and .Mrs. Sam Kunka Mrs. Florence Moore Mr. and Mrs. Pierce Mr. and Mrs. James Commander Mr. and Mrs. Harold Davis Mr. and Mrs. Walter Atwood Mr. and Mrs. Harold Purdy Dr. and Mrs. L. Woodruff Mr. and Mrs. Walter Johnson Mr. and Mrs. Theodore Molloy Mr. and Mrs. Bruno Kvelums Mr. and Mrs. Austin Speed Mr. and Mrs. Bradley Leslie Ann Capuro 88 CONGRATULATIONS from the MASSACHUSETTS GENERAL HOSPITAL NURSES ALUMNI ASSOCIATION 89 90 COMPLIMENTS OF CHARLES RIVER PHARMACY Charles River Park — Boston — 523 - 3600 I CONGRATULATIONS TO THE GRADUATING GLASS OF 1966 WE ARE PROUD TO HAVE FURNISHED YOUR STUDENT UNIFORMS AND HOPE WE MAY SERVE YOU IN THE FUTURE MARVIN-NEITZEL CORPORATION MODERN GLOTHING FOR HOSPITAL AND NURSE Troy — Since 1845 — New York 91 SHARAF’S RESTAURANT COME TO THE 1 19 Charles Street MASS. COFFEE SHOP FOR A SNACK OR A MEAL North Anderson Street 1 BUZZY’S FABULOUS ROAST BEEF Compliments of . . . 1 CHARLES RIVER PARK CLEANERS 327 CAMBRIDGE STREET LA-3-9156 75 Blossom Court Boston 1 BOSTON’S ONLY ALL NIGHT DRUGSTORE Compliments of PHILLIPS DRUG CO., INC. prescriptions carefully compounded OLDE BOSTON REALITY w 153 159 Charles Street Boston, Mass. 92 Printed And Bound By BRADBURY, SAYLES, O ' NEILL, INC. Chrysler Building, New York, N. Y. 10017 1 I ‘t — — - — — •- BttHstKfi Printed by BRADBURY, SAYLES, O ' NEILL, INC. Chrysler Building, New York, N. Y. 10017