A NURSE'S LIFE IN WAR AND PEACE
BY
E. C. LAURENCE, R.R.C.
AUTHOR OF "MODERN NURSING IN HOSPITAL AND HOME"
WITH A PREFACE BY
SIR FREDERICK TREVES, BART.
G.C.V.O., C.B., LL.D.
LONDON
SMITH, ELDER & CO., 15 WATERLOO PLACE
1912
[All rights reserved]
Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.
At the Ballantyne Press, Edinburgh
PREFACE
The charm of these letters, it will at once be found, depends upon their
simplicity, their artlessness, their obvious candour. They present a
plain, untinted account of a nurse's career, of the difficulties she has
to face, and the problems she has to solve. Those who wish to know
something of a nurse's life and times will find in this writing a
convincing narrative, unemotional and matter-of-fact.
This is no small merit, since the record of nursing experiences is apt
to be blurred by exaggeration or made nauseous by sickly romance. There
is pathos enough in the sick-room and in the presence of death, but
those who come in touch with it would do better to hush the knowledge in
their hearts, rather than to proclaim it on the house-tops. Apart from
this, the world must be a little weary of the astute sick child who
lisps melodrama into the ear of the "kind nurse," as well as of the
bizarre aphorisms of the dying tramp.
The faults of management and lapses of discipline which crop up
incidentally in the story are now matters of the past, and are no longer
to be found in either the "Children's Hospital" or the "General."
The novice who is entering the profession of Nursing will find in these
letters a sensible and exact view of the prospect that lies before her.
She may further glean some insight as to the qualifications of the good
nurse. These qualifications are to be expressed neither by certificates
nor by badges, neither by starched uniforms nor by examination results.
They are happily beyond the mechanical gauge of any examiner, and above
the platitudes of the official testimonial.
Of the perfect nurse it may be said that "her price is far above
rubies," and that her place is high in the company of admirable women.
She is versed in the elaborate ritual of her art, she has tact and sound
judgment, she can give strength to the weak and confidence to the faint
at heart, she has that rarest sight which can see the world through the
patient's eyes, and she is possessed of those exquisite, intangible,
most human sympathies which, in the fullest degree, belong alone to her
sex.
FREDERICK TREVES.
_December 1911._
CONTENTS
I
PAGE
At School--Determined to be a Nurse--Royal Red Cross
instituted--Preliminary Training 1
II
Visit to Tenerife--A Storm in the Bay--The Beauties of the Island 3
III
Up the Cañadas--Voyage Home on a Cargo-boat--Call at Madeira 8
IV
First Experiences in a Hospital--The Food--Some Medical Cases--My
First "Special" Case 14
V
Moved to a Surgical Ward--In Quarantine--A Poisoned Hand--"Kathleen" 19
VI
In the Out-Patient Department--Food improved, and Heavy Work
reduced--Act as Night Sister for two nights--Am offered a
post as Staff Nurse--My first Certificate 25
VII
To South Africa for a year--Voyage out on the _Scot_--By train
from Cape Town to Kimberley 31
VIII
Life on the Diamond Fields--I meet Mr. Cecil Rhodes--The
Kimberley Exhibition 37
IX
A Visit to Cape Town--Up Table Mountain--Return to Kimberley 42
X
On Circuit in Cape Colony--A Visit to Natal--The Doctor's Fee 48
XI
East London and Port Elizabeth--Down a Diamond Mine
(Kimberley)--Return to England 54
XII
Accepted for training at a General Hospital--I begin in a Medical
Ward--A sudden death 60
XIII
On the Surgical side--A heavy "Take-in" week--Lectures on
Physiology 66
XIV
My first Typhoid Case--Diphtheria Tracheotomies--The Rescue
of the Cat--On Night Duty 71
XV
Christmas in Hospital--The Dispensing Examination--Acting
Assistant Matron--Three Weeks on Duty in an Infirmary 77
XVI
First Sister in the Front Surgery--A Bad Accident--A Dog with a
Broken Leg 83
XVII
Temporary Ward Sister--Appointed Night Sister--Interesting
Work--Join the Royal National Pension Fund for Nurses--I
spend Christmas warded as a Patient 89
XVIII
Chloroform for a Cat--I Volunteer for Plague Duty
(refused)--Appointed Ward Sister--A Fire Alarm--A Holiday
in Switzerland--A Bomb in Paris 95
XIX
I go to Egypt--Nursing at Sea in rough weather--At Helouan--Ride
out to the Pyramids--The Kasr-el-Aini 102
XX
Up the Nile by Tourist Steamer--At Luxor--"Hare and Hounds"
on Donkeys 109
XXI
War in the Soudan--Night and Day Nursing 115
XXII
Sent up to Assouan--Down the Nile on a Post Boat--A Saunter
Home across the Continent 120
XXIII
Back to my old Hospital--In a Ward for Women and
Children--Christmas in a Men's Accident Ward 126
XXIV
Scarlet Fever--At Marlborough House with R.N.P.F. Nurses 132
XXV
The Boer War--A Lucky Meeting at the War Office--Joined the
Army Nursing Service Reserve--Choosing fittings, &c., for
a Hospital of 100 beds 137
XXVI
Voyage out on the _Tantallon Castle_--Some Military Hospitals
near Cape Town--We land in Natal 143
XXVII
Inoculated against Typhoid--We begin to build our
Hospital--Increased from 100 to 200 beds--Unpacking--A Hospital
Ship at Durban 149
XXVIII
Our Food Supplies--Washing Arrangements--Snakes and other
Creatures--A Railway Accident--Our First Patients 156
XXIX
The Princess Christian Hospital Train brings us some Bad
Cases--Men from Elandslaagte--Some Officer Patients--The Bishop
of Pretoria 162
XXX
Dengue Fever amongst the Staff--First Death amongst the Officer
Patients--Mafeking relieved--Our Hospital officially
"Opened"--Colonel Galway--The Trappist Monastery 169
XXXI
A Spion Kop hero--Orderlies knocking up with Enteric--Worsted
work, &c., to amuse the Convalescents--Death of an Orderly
from Enteric--Poem by Officer Patients 175
XXXII
Some distinguished Visitors--We become a Military Hospital--New
Orderlies arrive--"Imperial Bearer Company" men--Our Major 183
XXXIII
Changes on our Staff--The Arrival of Sick Convoys--Our
Servants--The Hospital Commission--The Difficulties of Transport 189
XXXIV
I visit the Battle-fields--At Colenso--Ladysmith--Up Spion Kop--Tin
Town Hospital--On a Red Cross Ambulance 196
XXXV
The Tugela Falls--Pieter's Hill--Hart's Hill--Chieveley--Mooi
River--Maritzburg--Back at Pinetown 203
XXXVI
Prisoners from Pretoria--Our Gardens--We start Poultry Keeping 209
XXXVII
The Natal Volunteers return home--"John"--Flying Ants and
other Plagues 215
XXXVIII
The Buckjumper--The Excellence of the Boer Ponies--The Home
for Lost Dogs! 221
XXXIX
Sudden Orders for Home--Voyage with Lord Roberts on the
_Canada_--Call at Cape Town--A Funeral at Sea 228
XL
Lord and Lady Roberts visit the Hospital--Christmas at Sea--We
anchor off Cowes--Lord Roberts visits Queen Victoria at
Osborne--Sixteen days' leave--Rejoin the _Canada_ to return
to the Cape 235
XLI
The Death of Queen Victoria--Lodgers at Wynberg--The Plague
at Cape Town--Up the Coast with Boer Prisoners 242
XLII
Up Country--Under Canvas--The Sisters' Horses 249
XLIII
Our Tent Flooded--A Cow shares my Tent--Night Duty in the
Rainy Season--Afternoon Duty 256
XLIV
In Charge of Medical Tents--A Present from the Queen--Within
Sound of the Guns--"Kit Inspection"--The Horrors of
Transport in the Ambulance Waggons 263
XLV
A Sudden Collapse--The Winter Begins--Tired of the War 270
XLVI
Night Duty again--A Sick Convoy arrives in the Night--A bad
Pneumonia Case--Nearly Frozen 277
XLVII
Mentioned in Despatches--Ill with Dysentery--A Night at
Pinetown--With my Brother to Uitenhage 283
XLVIII
At Port Elizabeth--Down the Coast to Mossel Bay--We drive, _via_
George, to Oudtshoorn--Martial Law--Under escort to Prince
Albert Road--By Train to Kimberley 290
XLIX
Tales of the Siege--"Long Cecil"--Refugee Camps--A Picnic
under Arms 298
L
By Train to Cape Town--Night Sister on a Troopship--Some
Sad Cases--Home Once More 305
A NURSE'S LIFE IN WAR AND PEACE
I
THE SCHOOL, LINCOLN,
1888.
This is my usual day for writing letters, and I have nothing but the
usual things to write to you about. Each day we get up at the same time,
do the same sort of lessons (not very difficult), eat the same sort of
food (not very interesting), and go for the same dull walks, with an
occasional game of tennis on a badly-kept lawn; but I have been
thinking, and the long and short of it is, that I am going to persuade
my people to let me leave school.
I think you know that some years ago I determined that I would be a
nurse. To be exact, it was in 1883 that Queen Victoria instituted the
Royal Red Cross, and in the same year I was grieving over the fact that
none of the professions in which my brothers were distinguishing
themselves would be open to me, as I was "only a girl"; so I at once
decided that I would try to win the Royal Red Cross.
Well, I am not thinking so much about the decoration now, as wars seem
to be few and far between; but still I think the nursing profession is
the only one I am a bit fitted for, and lately I have been reading
everything I can get hold of on the subject.
You see, I am not a bit clever, and I am no good at music or languages;
so I could never teach. And, on account of having been so delicate when
I was small, I am behind most girls of my age in many subjects; but in
the two terms that I have been here I have won two prizes, and I think I
can work up any subject that I want to as well as most people can.
I know I am not old enough to begin nursing yet, but when I am, it may
be necessary to pay for my first year's training, so I very much want
them to save the money they are now paying for my education to pay for
that, as it seems to me that I am being stuffed with many subjects that,
after I leave school, I shall have no further use for.
I have not yet quite decided which hospital I shall go to. It is clear
that if I want to join the Army Nursing Service, I must go in for three
years' training in a good-sized General Hospital first; but the best of
these hospitals won't accept candidates till they are twenty-three, and
that seems such a very long way off. So perhaps I may take a preliminary
year in a Children's Hospital, or some other special hospital first, but
I am not old enough even for that yet; and as I think F. is going out to
the Canary Islands for the spring, I think it is very likely I may go
with him, as you know I love travelling.
I like this place very well, and I have many friends here; but one thing
is quite definite, and that is that I mean to be a nurse, and with that
in view I think I might be employing my time more profitably than I am
doing here.
II
PORT OROTAVA, TENERIFE,
_April 1889_.
Here we are, in comfortable quarters and in glorious sunshine, the grand
old Peak of Tenerife (with its cap of snow) looking down upon us.
I wish you could be transplanted to this warmth and brightness; but you
would not have enjoyed our experiences on the way here.
You know how cold it was when we left London on the _Ruapehu_; and all
down the Channel it was very cold, but fine and calm. We called at
Plymouth (such a pretty harbour); then, after we left there, our
troubles began. The next day there was a heavy swell, and very few
people appeared on deck. Our stewardess, they said, had "happened of an
accident," but we were well waited upon by a nice little steward. M. was
bad, and stayed in her berth; but with the steward's assistance I
struggled up on the upper deck, and I would not have missed it for
anything. Towards evening it was really blowing hard, and the waves were
grand. We took such plunges down into the trough, and then the great
ship trembled, and seemed to pull herself together to rise on the crest
of the next wave and then take another plunge.
The men were on the trot all day, making everything fast. It was Sunday,
but there was no service--the crew all too hard at work, and the
passengers chiefly in their berths. Towards evening I was wondering how
I should "make" my cabin, when the purser came along and asked if he
might help me down below, as the wind was still rising, and he had been
appointed "runner-in" by the captain, who said we had all better be down
below.
That night and the next day were really very bad indeed. We were
battened down, and the dead-lights were screwed on about 4.30 P.M., and
the electric light supply did not come on till after six; so for that
time we were in darkness, and some of the passengers were really very
much frightened.
Tons of water poured on the main deck and down the companion-ways, and
men were bailing it out near our cabins all night long. I kept feeling
in the dark to see if there was water in our cabin, as it rushed past
the door with a great "swish"; but the step was high, and it did not
come over.
There was no sleep for any one that night; it was all we could do to
keep from being pitched out of our berths.
The men were very funny as they bailed the water out and mopped up.
"Reminds one of washing-day in our backyard--pity my old woman ain't
here," "Sometimes we see a ship, sometimes we ship a sea"--and heaps
more to the same effect. Our steward said he had never had to bail out
so much water before, and he had been six years on the ship. One of the
sails was carried away; and when we got to Santa Cruz the engineers
discovered that part of the rudder had gone.
Two cooks and one of the sailors were knocked down and injured, but I
think not very badly. Two of the boats were washed out of the davits,
and one of the heavy deck-seats (next to the one on which I had spent
the afternoon) was smashed to bits.
Sleep was quite impossible, as it was most difficult to keep in one's
berth, and every now and then there was a great crash as things were
broken in the saloons and galleys. We are still bruised and stiff from
the knocking about.
I have always wanted to see a storm at sea; but I am now quite
satisfied, and I shall never want to see another. It is most unpleasant
to be battened down, and the engines sound to be so fearfully on the
strain and tremble that you feel you must listen for the next beat of
the screw, knowing that if the engines should fail your chance of
weathering the storm would be a very small one indeed.
After that the weather improved, and also became warmer, and the
passengers one by one came crawling up on deck; but most of them looked
as though they had been through a long illness, and could talk about
nothing but their alarm in the storm; and the captain owned he had had a
very anxious time.
We landed at Santa Cruz early one afternoon--a very unsavoury town, with
dirty beggars exhibiting various loathsome diseases and following you
about.
After a little delay we secured a carriage and three horses to drive
across the island to Orotava, twenty-six miles distant--a pretty,
winding road, cool up in the hills, but becoming hot as we descended to
Puerto Orotava. The hotel was full, but we secured rooms in a
dependence; and when we had rested and changed, we found a _carros_
ready to take us across to dinner. A carros is a kind of sledge on broad
runners drawn by two oxen. They are much used in the town, as the roads
are paved with little cobbles, which would pull the wheels about a great
deal.
This is a nice hotel, cool and airy, and the garden is lovely--such
quantities of roses, bougainvillias, and bright trees of hibiscus. There
is a good billiard-room we can use, and it is open all down one side
(only matting blinds). That shows how dry the climate is, as the table
is perfectly "true."
The waiters are Spaniards, who know a little English and like to use it.
"This is jarm, very goot," &c. We go about with our little red book of
phrases, and sometimes get what we want, but more often fail to make
ourselves understood. The natives are most interesting, the children
such pretty little things with very bright eyes. Up in the hills they
still consider it is winter, and the men go about with blankets tied
round their necks; and when they squat down on the ground, the blanket
flows out and makes a little tent round them. Down here it is really
hot, and the small children wear nothing but a little chemise. The women
are pretty, and they wear brilliant-coloured handkerchiefs tied over
their heads.
We are close to the sea, and it is such a gorgeous blue; I have never
seen anything like it before. I suppose it is very deep round here, and
the Peak rises 12,000 feet, straight from the sea.
There is no English church yet, but the chaplain holds services in a
large room fitted up as a church. Every one rides when he goes anywhere
here, even when going to church; so during service there is a large
company of ponies and donkeys outside, with the attendant men and boys
(all in white suits, with bright-coloured sashes), and now and again the
donkeys lift up their voices.
I have found a good chestnut pony ("Leaña") that goes well. They are
sure-footed little beasts here; and it is necessary for them to be so,
as there is only one "made" road, and for the rest we scramble up
mountain paths. But when we get on the road they simply scamper along.
M. has not done much riding; and sometimes, when we are scrambling up a
steep place, I look back, and find her holding on for dear life with a
most resigned expression on her face. But I think she is enjoying it all
immensely.
We walked up to the Botanical Gardens the other day, and they are
perfectly beautiful--arum lilies and many of our choicest greenhouse
flowers growing like weeds, and the ferns here are so beautiful too. Up
in the kloofs (here called _barrancos_) we find maidenhair growing wild,
and in such enormous fronds. I measured one, and it was two feet high.
At the gardens a very handsome young gardener--a Spaniard--gave us huge
bunches of roses to bring away. All the natives we come across are so
polite and friendly (every man you pass raises his hat), we wish we
could talk Spanish to them; but so far, if we can ask for what we want,
it is quite as much as we can manage. The better-class people often
speak French, and I get horribly mixed. The other night a solemn señor
asked me if I spoke French, and I said, "_Un très mui poco_"!
The word they seem to use the most is _mañana_ (to-morrow); as our nice
waiter explained when a gentleman said, "Antonio, the coffee is cold,"
"Ah, it shall be hot to-morrow. With the English it is always now,
to-day; with us it is _mañana_."
We hear that Laguna is the fashionable resort as soon as it becomes too
hot down here, but that Icod is the fruit-growing village of the island;
so we think of driving over and spending a night there.
III
SS. "FEZ," ENGLISH CHANNEL,
_June 1889_.
Since my last letter we seem to have been chiefly engaged in wrestling
with steamship companies in the vain endeavour to persuade them to
remove us from the island. F.'s leave was up early in June, and as we
had return tickets by one line, we wrote to them in good time to secure
berths. At first they made us various promises; but soon we learnt the
truth--namely, that all their boats were full in every berth long before
they came near the island.
Then we began to tackle other lines; but, you see, nearly all the boats
come from New Zealand or the Cape, and this is the favourite time for
going home; also there is the attraction of the Paris Exhibition. So I
cannot tell you on how many ships we have applied for berths, and always
in the end received the news, "Every berth full."
Personally I did not mind, as I enjoyed every day on the island; but it
was awkward for some things, and eventually we had to decide to sail on
board a small cargo steamer that calls at Orotava instead of at Santa
Cruz, and carries a few passengers home at a leisurely speed. But before
I tell you of the voyage, I must tell you a little about our last few
days on the island.
One day we drove over to Icod, a pretty little village about two hours'
drive from Orotava. Much coffee is grown at Icod, and also plenty of
fruit--oranges, lemons, figs, &c. We rode from there to Gerachico (a
pretty ride along the shore), where a whole village was engulfed when
the Peak last erupted; but it is now again built over, and we could not
see much of interest remaining.
Señora Carolina reigns at the small Icod hotel, and made us very
comfortable. But neither she, nor any one we met in the place, spoke any
English; so it was good practice for us, and our Spanish came off better
than I thought it would.
We decided not to climb the Peak, as you cannot do it from Orotava
without spending a night somewhere up the mountain; but one day M. and I
joined a party for a day on the Cañadas--the range from which the Peak
rises. We mounted our ponies at 7 A.M. in brilliant sunshine, and at
different points picked up our friends, till we were a party of ten,
with a crowd of attendant boys to carry our lunch, &c. The first part of
the ride was easy and pleasant; then, as we got higher, it became more
of a scramble over loose stones, that any English pony would have said
were only fit for a goat to be asked to walk over. Just as the path was
becoming really steep we left the sunshine, and found ourselves in a
thick bank of clouds, cold and damp, and had to go very cautiously, in
single file. The chattering pony-boys were very silent (their spirits
are easily damped), and said it was "_mucha frio_." Soon we emerged
above the clouds into a scorching sun, and, finding a piece of fairly
level ground, some of us took a little canter to try to get warm; but we
came to a sandy place, and there Leaña took it into her head to lie down
and roll. I saw what she was up to, and managed to roll out of her way;
so my saddle was more damaged than I was. But as my clothes were very
wet with the mist, the sand adhered!
We had a pleasant lunch, at a height of 8000 feet, while the ponies were
off-saddled and fed; and some of us thought we should like to camp for
the night and climb the Peak in the morning. But when we had finished
lunch we had only two ham-sandwiches left between us, so concluded we
had better return before night.
The view was lovely, looking _over_ the banks of snowy-white clouds to
the very blue sea, with the other islands in the distance, and behind us
the grand old Peak.
The ride down (a different way) was rather perilous, the ponies jumping
from rock to rock in a perfectly marvellous way, often just on the side
of a precipice. But it was too much for some of our party, and they
insisted upon walking down; and this rather delayed us, as they could
not go nearly so fast, nor were they so sure-footed as the ponies.
We got in at 8 P.M., very tired and very sunburnt, but having enjoyed
the day immensely; and our ponies were quite fresh, and wanted to gallop
all the way directly they got on the road.
I don't think I have told you about the tree-frogs; they make such a
noise after sundown you might think there were thousands of ducks
quacking. A gentleman wanted to take some back to England with him; so
one day we caught half-a-dozen for him, and they all escaped in our
rooms! Such a hunt for them! And I could not finish telling you about
Orotava without one word about the _fleas_. They are really a great
trial, and seem to abound everywhere, especially in the carriages.
After various false alarms our little steamer, the _Fez_ (560 tons),
arrived, and began to take in a cargo of pumice-stone. The solemn old
oxen brought the carros for our baggage, and our many friends escorted
us down to the jetty, where most of the Spanish population seemed to be
collected to see us off.
It is always a difficult landing at Orotava, and the small ship's-boat
gave us a good tossing before we were hauled up the gangway. It was
rather horrid before we got away, and I was the only lady who was not
sea-sick before the anchor was up!
Such a change from the _Ruapehu_! Just one very small saloon, and our
cabins very tiny; no upper deck, and very little room on the main deck;
of course, no doctor on board, and no stewardess. But it was only for a
short time, we thought, and we were determined to make the best of
things, and soon found there were compensations--namely, a charming
captain, nice crew, and most attentive stewards. And very soon my small
deck-chair was established on the bridge, and I learnt more about
navigation than I should have learnt in years on a liner. There were
twelve of us passengers (all people we knew), and twenty-two officers
and crew; also a big dog, and a sheep who occasionally strolled into our
cabins, until nearly the end of the voyage, when the meat hung up in the
stern (there was no refrigerator on board) had run low, and then one day
I saw a sheep's skin being washed over the side! There were also many
noisy cocks and hens, and a few ducks; and, last but not least, swarms
of rats! I had some sugar-cane in my cabin, and the rats rather fancied
it; and when I threw things at them to make them go away, they would
sit on the cabin doorstep to wash their faces and lick their lips!
We had lovely weather as far as Madeira. When we got there we found it
was a public holiday, and we should have to stay three days, as there
were 300 pipes of wine to be got on board, and the natives would not
work on the holiday. This gave us a good opportunity to see the island,
and it was very enjoyable. It is far more green than Tenerife, but I
should say the climate, though very mild, is not nearly so dry.
The captain arranged a very nice trip for us to a part of the island
that is not often visited by people who call only at Funchal.
We had to get up in the middle of the night, and go on board a small
launch (that takes the mails round the island) at 2.30 A.M. It was
beautiful moonlight, and Funchal looked very pretty as we steamed away
round the great Loo Rock. We reached Caliette at 5 A.M., and had to
whistle for some time before the people woke up and brought a small boat
out for us.
They made us some coffee, and we had breakfast, and then got into
hammocks slung on long poles; and two men carried us up and up the hills
till we came to a weird tunnel, which we went through by the light of
pine-torches, and emerged in the most grand scenery--rugged hills and
beautiful waterfalls, such very vivid greenery everywhere. And amongst
all the semi-tropical vegetation we came upon one bed of English
forget-me-nots that was most refreshing.
We lunched and rested for some time by a beautiful waterfall, called, I
think, "Rabacal"; and then going down it was very hot, and, in spite of
the steepness of the paths, some of us slept in the hammocks as we
jogged along. The men carried us about twenty-five miles in the course
of the day, and did not seem at all tired. But there was a little
competition to carry me, as I was the lightest of the party! We got back
to Funchal about 9 P.M., and were quite ready for bed.
Owing to this delay at Madeira (on account of the general holiday) the
voyage is taking much longer than usual, and by the time we get in--or
hope to get in--we shall be fourteen days out from Orotava, instead of
the five days we took from London to Santa Cruz. In consequence of this
the provisions are running rather low, and a few things have quite run
out; but I have enjoyed the voyage immensely.
Before I return home, I hope to visit two or three Children's Hospitals
in London, to be interviewed by the matrons, so as to settle where I
will go to begin training. I am not old enough for admission to a
General Hospital yet.
IV
CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL, LONDON,
_June 1891_.
I thought I would wait till I had been here three months before writing
to tell you of my raw probationer days. At first it was all so very new
to me that it seemed very, very hard; and I really think that, if it had
not been for the fact that one of my brothers had bet me that I should
give it up in a fortnight, I should have done so in the first week. But
I rarely bet, and when I do, I like to win! And having had to wait so
many years before I could persuade a matron that I was old enough and
strong enough, I really could not lightly give it up.
By the end of my month on trial I began to feel my way, and was quite
certain that I wished to stay on if they would keep me; and though they
were not enthusiastic in telling me my services were invaluable, their
only cause of complaint appeared to be that I was slow. So they were
graciously pleased to accept my fifty-two guineas (in instalments), and
for that sum to allow me the privilege of working hard and fast for an
average of eleven hours a day (paying for my own laundry, and buying my
own uniform) for the period of one year.
I don't think I was slow in attending to the children; but at first a
very large part of one's time is taken up with cleaning and
housemaiding--sweeping, dusting, scrubbing, polishing the brass taps
and bed-knobs, and washing the children's pinafores and bibs, &c.
When I began, I hardly knew the difference between a broom and a
scrubbing-brush. I knew nothing of the labour-saving properties of soda
and Hudson's soap, and I don't think I had ever dusted a room; so I did
not know how fond the dust was of collecting on the top of screens and
pictures and window-ledges, and it took me time to discover these
things.
At home our breakfast-hour had always been 9 A.M., and, except for a
day's hunting, there were very few things that excited my interest
before that hour; so I expected to find it difficult to have had my
breakfast and to be ready to go on duty at 7 A.M. But in looking back
upon my first week in hospital, the thing that impressed itself upon me
more than the trouble of early rising was the fact that during that
first month I was always hungry! I have got over the difficulty now, as
a weekly parcel of "tuck" arrives from home; and when this comes to an
end, I buy some potted-meat or (if funds are low) some plain chocolate
to carry on till the next parcel arrives. Nearly all the nurses either
have food sent, or else buy a good deal. Of course I did not know this
would be necessary, and had not got money at first. And there are a few
nurses who cannot afford to buy, but of course we share with them.
Dinner is at 6 P.M., and that is the best meal of the day, as the Matron
sometimes comes to it; so the meat is generally well cooked. It is
always a scramble to get lunch some time between ten and twelve, and it
is not interesting--just chunks of cold meat, and (every other day)
bread-and-treacle. Our butter is issued to us twice a week--¼ lb. in a
little tin mug--and we have to carry this mug about, for meals in the
dining-hall and in the ward kitchen, for as long as it lasts. But if you
don't keep a sharp eye on your mug, it often becomes empty in the first
day or two, and you stand a good chance of having to eat dry bread for
the days before the new butter is put out. I very much dislike coffee;
but there is nothing else provided for breakfast but coffee and a loaf
of stale bread, and our own butter (if we have any left), so we don't
seem to start the day very well. For the rest, we make tea twice a day
in the ward kitchens, and can use the ward bread. If funds are high and
the lunch bad, we sometimes indulge in rashers of bacon; sometimes on
Sunday we have a sausage or two; but it is more usual to fill in the
cracks with tea and cake.
Up to now I have been working in a medical ward of twenty-one cots. The
sister has charge of a surgical ward as well, and I think she prefers
the surgical work; so we don't see very much of her, except when the
physicians go round, or when we have very bad cases in. I like her very
well, but she is rather stiff; and most of the information I am picking
up is from the staff nurse and from the house physician, who is most
kind in explaining the reasons for the various symptoms we notice in the
cases, and what results he hopes for in the treatment he prescribes.
We had a very sad case in the other day. A working man brought in a
little chap of two, called Stanley, very ill with pneumonia and rickets.
He said his wife was in another hospital (for an operation), and he had
to go to work and leave all his children in charge of the eldest, a boy
of ten; and his wife had been so very ill he had had to go to see her in
the evenings, and so had not noticed how ill Stanley was. At first he
kept holding out his arms to me, and calling in such a piteous little
voice, "Lady, lady"; but he soon got quite contented, only every day
weaker and weaker. His quiet, patient father came every evening and sat
by him, and his mother was to come to see him as soon as ever she was
well enough; but the poor woman was too late, and when early one morning
she arrived in a cab with a nurse from the hospital, he had just been
carried down to the mortuary, and we could only take her to see him
lying there, looking very sweet, with some white lilies in his hand.
Then we have dear Philip in. He is tubercular, and _such_ a pretty boy;
but I think he is too good to live. I am afraid his mother drinks, and
he has a rough time of it at home; but his father is a very nice man.
Here we all spoil him, as he is really very ill, but is always so
patient and bright. He has a mop of brown curls and the smile of an
angel. He is one of the few children of the slums who always insists
upon kneeling up to say his prayers; and though sometimes he has so
little breath to spare that I have to say the words for him, he just
kneels there and smiles when I get hold of the words he wants to help
him out.
As a contrast, another of my patients was Samuel Abraham, the very
ugliest little scrap of skin and bones you ever saw. When he came in he
was seven months old, and weighed only eight pounds. He was in for six
weeks, and absolutely refused to put on a single ounce. Then every one
got tired of Samuel, and as I had not had a turn at feeding him, he was
handed over to me; and, more by good luck than by good management, he
began to improve, and at the end of my first week he had put on six
ounces, and since then he has steadily gained in weight, and begins to
look more like a baby than a monkey. He went home the other day, and I
wonder much whether his poor mother will be able to rear him, as I am
sure he will miss the hourly attention he has had here. We should have
kept him longer; but we had three cases of scarlet fever, and they had
to be sent to the Fever Hospital, and all the children who could be
moved had to go home, and the ward will be sulphured. But I am writing
this letter as I sit in the bare ward beside one poor little boy called
Jackie, who is so desperately ill with meningitis that they don't like
to move him. It is a curious case. Jackie belongs to well-to-do people,
and his illness was caused by a fall out of a mail-cart. His head is so
retracted that it really nearly touches his buttocks, and he lies in a
stiff backward bow. He is quite unconscious, and I have to feed him with
a nasal tube; his temperature goes up to 104 and 105.
At first I was rather nervous at being "special" with him, as I have
been here only three months, and I have never seen a case like this
before; and the sister may not come in to see me, as she has to go into
the surgical ward, and we may still be infectious. But of course I can
ask her advice about anything, and the house physician comes in twice a
day, and is most kind. He assures me no one could possibly do more for
Jackie than I am doing. I think he will be moved to a small ward
to-morrow (if he lives so long), and then I expect I shall have to
disinfect, and very likely go to a surgical ward.
V
CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL, LONDON,
_November 1891_.
I know it is a long time since my last letter to you, but really the
days are so full of work there seems to be no peace for letters; and at
night one is so weary that, after a wrestle to obtain a bath, one feels
fit for nothing but bed. And when I get to bed I feel obliged to take my
anatomy and physiology books and do a little study, as the residents are
very good about giving us lectures, and I should hate not to do decently
in the exams.
I think when I last wrote we had just closed the medical ward (whose
Sister had had the honour of beginning my hospital education), and after
a few hours off duty I was sent up to a surgical ward on the top floor,
next door to the theatre.
I went up rather in fear and trembling, as it was noted for being the
hardest ward in the hospital--as the nurses were responsible for the
theatre as well--and I didn't see how I could squeeze more work into the
days than I had been doing on the medical side. But I received a nice
welcome from the sister, and soon found that she was one of the best.
She didn't wait for us to do things wrong, and then scold us; but she
took pains to show us the _best_ way to do them, and then woe betide
those who didn't do their best!
I shall always remember my second morning up there, when she said,
"Nurse, your bathroom looks very smart and nice." It was the first time
a Sister had given me a word of praise, and from that day I didn't mind
how hard I worked to please her. There was a different atmosphere about
that ward, and I soon felt better in it. The children, too, were a more
cheery set. Some of them were very ill; but we did not get the poor
little "wasting" babies, and it was very seldom we had a child who
minded a noise, so that the boys (at certain hours of the day) could be
allowed to sing all the popular songs of the day; and they were a very
merry crew. Many people think it must be very depressing to see so many
sick children; but, as a matter of fact, the children have very little
pain--or, at any rate, only for a very short time--and many of them are
enjoying a better time than they have had in their lives before. They
are kept clean and warm, and have plenty of good food and plenty of toys
to play with, and people who understand them when they have a pain, even
when they can't explain where it is.
There have been many changes since I came here. Several nurses who came
after I did have already left, and one has gone away ill. I had been in
the surgical ward only a fortnight when I was unlucky enough to pick up
influenza, and was sent to bed, with another nurse, in a small
quarantine-room up above the measles ward. They were rather suspicious
as to whether we had scarlet fever, as there was still some in the
hospital; so no one was supposed to visit us except the home sister. Her
visits were few and far between. Poor thing, she was stout, and the
stairs were many! We both felt pretty bad with high temperatures, and
should have come off badly for attention if it had not been for the
"measles nurse," who had only two convalescent children, and she used to
break the rules and come up to look after us. One day she had run up
with an offering of buttered toast, when we heard a door open
downstairs, and _felt_ that the Matron was coming. Nurse vanished into
our little kitchen-pantry; but there was no escape from that without
passing our wide-open door, and, besides, the Matron was sure to call
upon the measles ward on her way downstairs. The buttered toast was
stowed away under the bed-clothes, and we were trying to be calm and
answer Matron's enquiries as to our health, when we heard a rattling of
the hand-lift on which our food was sent up from the kitchen, and we
realised that nurse had determined to crawl into that, and so descend to
her post of duty. With much alarm we heard the lift go down, and
trembled lest the unaccustomed weight should cause it to go down with a
run. Matron must have thought us very distrait; but we pleaded severe
headaches--a plea that was true enough--and she soon went away, "hoping
we should shortly be fit for duty again." We were very thankful when
nurse appeared to report her safety, with nothing worse than a crushed
cap and a crumpled apron, which had been severely commented upon by the
Matron.
They were short of nurses, so as soon as I could get about I went on
duty again, and had a nice welcome back to my ward. But it happened to
be very heavy just then with several small babies, and two of them had
hare-lips that had been operated upon, and it was most important that
they should not be allowed to cry at all. So one evening I was sitting
in the ward cleaning some instruments that had been used in the theatre
for a nasty case of mastoid abscess, and one of these babies began to
whimper. I jumped up to subdue it, and in doing so I had the bad luck to
prick my thumb. The baby soon settled down again, and then Sister came
in and cleaned and dressed my thumb; but in a few days I was in for a
badly poisoned hand, and it had to be opened in several places by the
house surgeon. He wanted me to be off duty, and out-of-doors as much as
possible; so Sister arranged to give me some extra off-duty time, and
was awfully kind in doing part of my work for me. But when she told
Matron about it, Matron said, "Nurse has been off duty over a week with
influenza. If she has to go off again, she had better go home and stop
there, as she is not strong enough for the work." But Sister didn't want
me to go, and fortunately the ward was getting lighter, and I could keep
the babies quiet even with my arm in a sling; so I did what I could, and
was sent into the kitchen when the visiting surgeon went round, lest he
should order me away. The house surgeon was furious with the Matron
about it, but he looked after me well, and though my arm was very
painful for a fortnight, and allowed me very little sleep, it soon
improved. But my thumb is still stiff and unbendable, and the house
surgeon is afraid it will always be so, as he had to cut into it so
deeply.
I must tell you about a quaint child we had in about that time. She was
a little Irish girl called Kathleen, with a mop of red hair and a pretty
little face, but with very crossed eyes. Kathleen was five years old,
but had never walked, as her legs were badly deformed; but she got about
at a great pace on the floor in a style of her own invention. You never
quite knew where you were with Kathleen. She had a very sharp temper;
but she was devoted to Sister, and was obedient to me. But any
directions given to her as to her behaviour by other nurses were
received with scorn and entirely ignored; and if Sister and I happened
to be off duty together, on our return we generally had to remonstrate
with the child for some piece of naughtiness, and then she would soon be
sobbing and penitent.
One day I was off in the afternoon, and when tea-time came Kathleen was
missing. They searched everywhere for her; and Matron, who happened to
pass, joined in the search. Eventually she was found shut up in the
Sisters' dining hall, very much engaged with the food-cupboard. The
butter had all gone, so had most of the sugar, some of the biscuits,
and, when discovered, she was just drinking up the vinegar with relish.
Matron remarked, "A good toffee mixture!" And then she spent
half-an-hour trying to make the child say she was sorry, but without
success; so she smacked her, and sent her to bed! On my return, of
course, I had an account of Kathleen's misdoings, and thought it better
to take no notice of her. All the evening as I did my work the little
white-faced thing sat up in her cot watching me go up and down the ward,
with her poor crooked eyes quite dry; but when the children were all
settled for the night and the lights turned down, I went to her, and she
flung her arms round my neck and sobbed out, "I _am_ sorry, and I won't
do it never no more. But I wasn't sorry to that woman, and I don't care
if she does smack me; but I shall tell my mother when I go home." Then I
lifted her out of her cot to warm her toes by the fire, and after a long
talk I extracted a promise that she would tell Matron she was sorry
next day; and in a very few minutes she was fast asleep.
I expect that I shall be moved from this ward very soon, and I shall be
very sorry. The work is hard and fast, but Sister works as hard as we
do; so we are very happy together, and I feel I am getting on.
I have got used to the theatre work too, and (after much labour) have
learnt the names of all the instruments in common use, so that I can
hand them as they are asked for; and sometimes I am trusted to put out
what I think will be required for an operation, and when Sister looks
them over she doesn't often find anything missing.
VI
CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL, LONDON,
_March 1892_.
Soon after I last wrote I was sent down to the Out-Patients'
Department--quite a different kind of work, and I shouldn't like it for
long, but it was interesting for a time.
The numbers vary a great deal. From fifty to a hundred children may be
brought up in one day, and many of them require small dressings to be
attended to. Then, on two afternoons in the week, the surgeons do small
operations; and sometimes there are half-a-dozen children all recovering
from anæsthetics at the same time, and all requiring to be carefully
watched.
There is a dear old Sister in charge, and one afternoon a week we go out
together to visit any special hip cases that are being treated in their
own homes, after having been in-patients here. _Such_ slums we sometimes
have to go to; and yet it is wonderful how nicely the poor mothers keep
these children when they are just shown the right way. We have one jolly
little chap, who has been for two months in an extension apparatus
rigged up on a big perambulator, with the weight hanging over the
handle. He has improved so much that they will soon wheel him up in his
bed-carriage, and I think the doctor will then sign his release from the
extension.
Some of the nurses had rather a joke the other day--a joke which had
good results for the rest of us. There is a confectioner's shop near
here which we largely patronise, and these girls who were on night duty
were hungry as usual, and they went into this shop for tea and scones
before going to bed. While they were there, our secretary superintendent
came in; and afterwards Mrs. ---- (who is quite a friend of ours) told
the nurses that, seeing them there, he asked her whether many nurses
were customers of hers; and she, pretending not to know him, said, "Oh
yes, sir; but we gets more nurses from the Children's Hospital than from
any of the other hospitals round here. You see, they feeds them _that_
badly there!" I believe he went straight back to the hospital and made
inquiries about our food, for not many days after we had bacon for
breakfast; and now there is always _something_ besides the bread put on
the table, and we find it a vast improvement.
Another thing has happened which has helped us considerably. A new nurse
has joined, who is a cousin of the senior surgeon. She is an awfully
nice girl, but does not look very strong, and after a week or two she
retired to bed with a strained back (not very bad). Then her cousin
visited her, and then he visited the committee; and it seems they had no
idea we had to carry all the big lotion bottles up from the dispensary,
and the heavy blocks of ice from the basement, and that we had to drag
down the great bags of soiled linen to the basement and then along a
lengthy passage--no joke on the doctor's day, when all the twenty cots
have clean sheets and counterpanes, &c. So now the porters do these
things for us, and we mournfully regret that we were not clever enough
to arrange for one of our number to strain her back at the beginning of
our training, instead of nearly at the end; but without a senior surgeon
for a cousin it might not have paid! Nurse is nearly well again now, and
she has asked me to spend part of my next free Sunday with her at the
house of this same senior surgeon. I shall be horribly shy, but I can't
well refuse.
My brother H. has come to live in town now, and it is very nice for me.
He is reading for an exam., and has rooms in Barnard's Inn--such a funny
old rookery near Holborn, and not far from here. He stands me a good
dinner about once a week, when I am off in the evening; and in return I
darn his socks for him, try to take him to church on Sundays, and report
his doings in my letters home, so that he need only send them occasional
post-cards!
While I was in the Out-Patient Department I was supposed to have my
Sundays free, unless an "extra" was especially wanted anywhere; and one
Saturday evening I was preparing to go away for the night, when a
message came that the night sister was not well, and Matron (who was
going away till Monday) wished me to go on duty for her for the two
nights. That was about 6 P.M.; so I went to lie down for a bit, and at
10 P.M. the home sister gave me the report and the hospital keys, and I
took charge, feeling rather important, but also rather a fraud, as
several of the charge nurses then on night duty had been here for many
years, and knew far more than I did. However, we got on very well
together, and I rather enjoyed running round to the different wards, and
helping with the bad cases.
There was one especially sad case--a girl of ten who had been frightened
by rats when left locked up in a house. She had chorea so badly that we
had to let her sleep on a mattress on the floor, and it was most
difficult to keep any clothes on her, or to feed her. Poor child, her
temperature gradually rose till it reached 107.8 before she died, a few
days later. The doctors said it was the worst case they had ever seen,
and I hope I may never see another case die of chorea.