May 2010
‘Me nursing? Impossible’ I told my friend June who had suggested I consider when call-up papers arrived.
With no knowledge of nursing procedures, going weak at the sight of blood and never having seen a dead body. I couldn’t.
But after June’s suggestion, reasoning eventually kicked in so, when those papers arrived, I had decided. I didn’t have long to wait.
‘Why have you requested nursing?’ a grim-faced officer demanded.
Because I prefer the uniform. My immediate response was not voiced, and I answered diplomatically.
I was told that training, after a stiff medical, would be intensive, with exams to follow.
The training was very hard and Sister Tutor formidable, but no sights or smells in the lecture room, so we were still untested. When the exams dates arrived I was so stiff with nerves, at the practical, that I nearly rolled my model patient to the floor, from her bed.
Eventually we were let loose on the ward. Starched apron and cap may have made me look the part but it took time for me to realise that, when a patient called for nurse she could mean me.
Wards were run like clockwork. Ward maids left everything spotless, staff nurse and ward sister ensured obedience at every turn. Envelope corners had to be perfect, locker tops tidy, patients looking tidy even if in pain. Visitors 2 - 4 Wednesday and Sunday - no children allowed!
Bed rounds enabled us to get to know the patients and usually there was a happy atmosphere on the ward. Any T.B. patients were barrier nursed in side wards.
On my first night duty I was told that Night Sister had her office on that particular ward and the junior nurse had to cook her meal. That Sister demanded a full fry-up. Cooking scared me so what was eventually served to her was a sad looking meal with soggy chips in profusion.
‘Nurse’ Sister bellowed, ‘Are you trying to kill me?’ No-one had warned me that she should have been on a fat-free diet. Fortunately a nurse came to my rescue, showing me how to produce a fat-reduced meal.
As time went on, because of shortage of nurses, we were often given very interesting jobs such as helping with dressings, testing, charting injections and much more. In spite of the strict discipline, I was enjoying nursing.
There are so many memorable occasions imprinted on my memory - to recall just a few . . .
The first time watching an operation in theatre and being determined not to faint.
The epileptic housewife who had fallen on the gas stove during a fit. This resulted in dreadful burns to arm and back but all we could do at that time was paint with burn lotion and try to keep everything sterile whilst the patient sang hymns loudly.
A patient on men’s surgical, delighted with progress after an operation insisted the two nurses join him in a celebratory drink at his bedside. We declined, with apologies, of course but then eventually weakened. Then Ward Sister returned unexpectedly - reported to Matron and all leave cancelled!
Being told to help lay out a dead patient was something I dreaded. But when that time came the nurse I was assisting was so understanding and helpful that I found myself thinking of the relatives and not myself. Fear conquered.
On Christmas Eve, with red capes, starched caps and lanterns, we toured the wards singing carols. Patients in each ward welcomed us in traditional fashion and it was a memorable occasion. But there was one ward we were not allowed to enter - that in which German prisoners were being nursed. Most were very young airman and some, who were able to get out of bed, gathered behind the locked door and sang their own special German carols in very loud, but well-modulated, voices. It was heart-rending and had many of us in tears.
There were, of course, some scary times whilst I was nursing but some very happy ones too. Our social life, when off-duty, was good and I was very grateful to friend June who had prompted me to consider nursing when those call-up papers were due to arrive.