St Lukes Hospital School of Nursing - Blu Chambray Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

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She has told you about a very dear friend, her husband's cousin's wife, Hurt just like you, what a cheerful end, Never walked again in her life. Breakfast over-four nurses say, as they stand there in anticipation, VVe'll have this to do to you every day, and then to your consternation, they grapple with you, and over you go, you didn't have time to say, 'fBoo, they said 'twould not hurt-how could they know, UVVHEN ITlS ALL IN THE POINT OF VIEVV ? But as Time waits not for any man, the days pass by, and you think you can see some improvement, you have less pain, and begin to take interest in things again. You cannot escape your neighbor's chatter the one who came in, with nothing the matter. She tells you who all the nurses are and where they came from, and knows-by-fur more about every one that's there, than you could ever care. But one thing you notice about this freak, if what she wants doesn't come. she begins to squeak. lf she wakes in the morning and feels very crabby, and has to wait her turn, she acts like a tabby. She spits and sputters, fumes and fusses, and who knows but that maybe she cusses. Yet every one there, who can see should know, those girls are working hard, all are not slow. They each have at least three patients to fix and when the ward's full, maybe have six. Everyone would know, if they stopped to ponder, that some one must be last and I often wonder, why she will say things that are not true-must be she can't see it. IT'S HER POINT OF VIEVV. Others there are of a different mind and where would you go to try to fmd such a big display of cantankerous traits as sick folks possessg and there are many debates by those who are garrulous, as well as arguments, by those who are querulous. Some are so nervous they hear a pin fall, although that pin drops, way out in the hall. The self pitying brand think that their trouble, in comparison with others, is just about double. Now a real good nurse, is one if you please, who can adapt herself pronto to their idiosyncrasies. But the cream of the crop is the fastidious kind, who- when their light is answered-say, Now would you mind, moving that stand, just a wee bit for into the landscape, it doesn't seein to Ht ?-and that vase of flowers, see if you're able to get it set, in the exact center of the table?-and that chair, tell me, is it not out of line? it's not plumb with the wall-there- thank you, that's fine. And the nurse must be cheerful, must not get blue, at their ideas so fearful. IT'S THEIR POINT OF VIEVV. Now there is a song, that's been sung by the masses-called- Seeing the Wforld Through Rose-colored Glasses. The same idea, I have tried to present, in this bunch of nonsense, so please don't resent anything T have written, if confined to your bed, T'd be there myself if they'd examine my head. Though the world may not always be rose-colored in there, whatever its color- IS ONE'S POINT OF VIEVV. B URTON. lldfsl

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lze Toim' 0fcUz'efw PI'CIllL1C Did you ever hear tell of the three blind men. an elephant they went to see. one grasped a leg, then said, I beg to announce he's much like a tree. One placed his hands on the elephants side, the beast was stately and tall, he said to his friend, An argument we'll end, the elephants much like a wall. The third found his tail, as he traveled around, his hands outstretched to grope, and he shouted in glee, Oh, listen to rue, the elephants just like a rope! Each one insisted that he was right, that he was the one who knew. A sage came along, said, You're all of you wrong for IT'S ALL IN THE POINT OF VIEVV. You may often have thought-if you thought at all-when a hospital you passed by, that there was a place, one must hold the ace or one could expect to die. Then, one clay when you attempted to cross the street, a certain auto you tried to beat, knocked you down, it was your error and in bed you awoke, filled with terror, still, some come here with nothing the matter and for no other purpose than to pipe their clatter. They pull off their clothes and crawl into bed, while the white-capped nurse props up their head. and cheerfully brings them food and drink, while they lie there and brood and think. How they get a kick out of lying here, you can't understand, yet, they have no fear. They take great interest in what others do, the kick must be IN TI-I E POINT OF VIEVXW' But as for you-you feel incandescent from taking X-Rays. You are told, They will pronounce you convalescent after many, many days, but-until that time they will put you through the ,little old third degree, yet, how they think up all the things they do, you really cannot see. First, they puncture you in the ear claiming It will do no harm, then comes another saying, Have no fear, and jabs a needle into your arm. Vlfhile you are groggy from their dope, they seem a motley crew and how they can expect you to have any hope. IS ALL IN THE POINT OF VIEVXV' Then come the Doctors, two or more, you are clopey and cannot protest. They gouge you in every spot that's sore, to hurt you they do their best. VVhile they are working they do as they please. of their art they show they are master and you find a long stick between your knees. as you're held in a vise made of plaster. You come out of your trance and ask a nurse why you're enibalmed just like a mummy. You know your condition could not be worse, while she smiles and gets very chummy. She tells you, You are in a plaster cast. It hurts like a new shoe. How can she be so cheerful, when you're held so fast? IT'S ALL IN THE POINT OF VIEVV. The first night seems as a thousand years, as you lie there racked with pain, and try to suppress the bitter tears while you think of your neighbor again. ll44ll

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46 I .ff Omge Silence. The peculiar hush before the storm. The great sad ruin of the Parthenon lay brooding. The lesser temples seemed to shiver with human awe at the approaching tempest. Down over Lykabetis it came roaring, the mighty blasts o-f wind and rain blotting out all before it. Darkness turned the golden columns to black streaks against the wracked and twisted clouds. Thunder seemed to shake the very foundations. Streaks of light- ning forked down to earth, giving the temple moments of un- earthly light. Each moment seemed the last. Noise, hideous noise, filled everything. Crashing of thunder, roaring of Wind, beating of rain, and then all the world afire. The last wrecking of this earthly home of Athena came thru thunderbolts. The columns shivered in awakening memory. Gasp- ing, the human beings who had braved this holocaust, bent against the might of the wind. Drenched, blown, torn, they waited. Gradually the tempest abated. The crashing and roaring died to distant mutterings. Clouds still rolled swiftly over, but grew lighter as they went, and, far out over the bay of Salamis, burned in riotous banks of colors. The sun itself broke through to bathe the drenched columns in a golden light and to mirror them in the pools of liquid sunshine on the marble floor. The air sparklecl, its freshness as heady and exhilirating as wine. The majestic ruin seemed to regain its glori- ous past. The peace and the beauty of it, hurt in its intensity. Slowlythe sun sank. The rellecting rays cast deeper and deeper shadows within the temple walls. Gold changed to violet, to purple, and Hnally sank into the shades of night. Old Lyky still glowed with the final shafts until they too, sank into darkness. Darkness over all. Silence. T. B.