Calling the Stork

That became less of an issue a few weeks after our move when we started at our new schools. My teacher was impressed with my ability and by the spring of 1914 I was able to graduate. By then, I knew what I wanted to do with my life except Mrs. Josaphina Cruickshank wasn't having it.

She was a stern, heavyset woman in her late 40s or early 50s, and she frowned at me when I was called into her office for my interview for acceptance to her nursing school. A red web of veins covered her cheeks and bulbous nose, clashing in a way with her graying hair pulled tight atop her head. She frowned at me unpleasantly for quite a time before she spoke.

"Why do you wish to be accepted to my school, Miss O'Grady?"

"I wish to be a nurse, ma'am, and I need the training you and your school can provide."

"Paassh! A nurse, eh? How do you know that? You've never worked in a hospital; you have no experience. Why do you think nursing is for you?"

"Because I want to help take care of people. I always have with my little sister and neighbor kids, but I think I can do a lot more with the right training."

She stared at me for a few more moments before speaking again, this time leaning toward me and continuing at barely a whisper. "No, Miss O'Grady, that's not enough. Besides, you're much too pretty to be a nurse. See, I know your type. You want to be accepted into my school so you can get into a hospital and bat those lashes on your deep blue eyes and flash those pretty white teeth to mesmerize an impressionable young doctor. He'll take one look at your skin--it's like alabaster, with nary a freckle on it--and your pert figure and he'll fall for your sweet charms and even be willing to overlook that God-awful red hair so he can play with your sweet tits and fuck you senseless every night until, some years later, he has his four kids and he tires of you so he can take a mistress and leave you wanting."

She said it so fast and so forcefully that my breath caught in my throat. So startled by her horrid comments, I couldn't cry out to object to how wrong she was about it all, even down to my hair color--Ma always says it's strawberry blonde. Tears flowed from my eyes and streamed down my cheeks as she moved from negative to insulting and then to a hideous nightmare. Being older, I now knew that 'fuck' was far more than a frequently used vile curse and that storks had nothing to do with babies other than as an easy and humorous explanation for their arrival to younger children.

"No, ma'am," I finally cried out. "I just want to be a nurse to care for people. I don't care about men, and I've never been courting, not even once. Please believe me, ma'am, please!"

She looked at me, long and hard, as my tears continued to flow, though at a much reduced rate as the shock wore off. Finally, she gave a slow nod.

"Perhaps...even with that face and body, a nurse you'll be someday...but definitely not today, Miss O'Grady, and not this year. Most of my students have experience in the hospital, but, like I said, you have none and your application shows that you've just graduated from school, meaning you don't know shit about what you really want. In fact, you'd probably run away the first time there was trouble if I were to throw you into the thick of it. No, dearie, your looks may yet win your way into a doctor's bed someday and possibly even into his heart and onto his letterhead as his wife, but you'll first need to earn your way here without fucking anyone to do it."

She pushed a paper across the desk at me. "Here's the name of one of my contacts at the hospital; see him and see about getting a job as an assistant, an attendant, or an orderly. Work there for a while and see if you can take it. The stench of the blood, the piss, the pus, the puke, and the shit. The coughing and hacking and fevers. See it, all of it, and see if your dainty self can face it without running away. Work there through the year, see if you can avoid getting yourself with child, and come back and see me this time next year. And a word of advice, Miss O'Grady, don't let anyone promise they can get you into my school if you'll let them in your knickers either. I, and I alone, will make the decision and will determine then if you're ready to become a nurse...assuming, that is, you haven't finagled a miracle and won one of those young doctors with your...charms."

She paused and looked at me for a few moments as if evaluating a cut of meat at the butcher's. "Yes, if I accepted you now, you wouldn't last a month. Now go."

She looked down at the paperwork on her desk as I thanked her without being sure if I really meant it and stuck out my hand. In the end, I lowered it without her acknowledgement, turned on my heel, and left.

I walked for a while with tears in my eyes, wondering how I could become a nurse, where else I might receive training. I knew I had no interest in doctors or men of any sort in the way she'd implied, so I had to find somewhere to receive my training and prove the old hag wrong. Somewhere....

In the end, I realized that Mrs. Cruickshank had given me the answer and it was in my hand. Looking at the name, Mr. Eli Linder, on the paper, I swallowed what little was left of my pride and turned to walk the few blocks to the hospital. There, after being sure my eyes were dry and my face was clear, I asked for an appointment with Mr. Linder.

I was surprised when the elderly gentleman was able to meet with me later that very afternoon, and more surprised when he gave me a job as a housekeeper with orders to show up on Monday.

***

Sunday, August 12, 1917

We've learned our way around the manor and are now helping the wounded and infirm. Unlike at home, the infirm here aren't primarily because of old age but due to the poison gas that afflicts them with terrible consequences. Everyone from our little group has now been assigned to help and we're all working long hours.

The rooms of The Manor act as wards, each filled with four to twelve beds, and we circulate through our assigned wards ministering to those who need care. Miss Pinnock has told us that many of those here will never fully regain their full capacity in their lungs, where the scarring is so bad, and few will be able to return to the fight. Those suffering from loss of limbs, burns, or other horrible wounds may someday find themselves happy that they suffered as they did rather than as were those suffering from the effects of the gas.

***

Saturday, August 18, 1917

The first full week is over and I think God that I am sound in body and in mind for no one here is. No one in the wards, anyway. I noticed one of the younger doctors glance at me several times this week; unlike the patients, he appears to be in excellent health, and when he smiled at me, I couldn't help smiling and looking away in embarrassment when I realized that was what Mrs. Cruickshank had always warned us about.

~~~

The first few weeks working as an orderly during that summer of 1914 were tough and I feared Mrs. Cruickshank might be right, that I might not be cut out to be a nurse someday after all. Mr. Linder had placed me under Mrs. Ethel, a very quiet, older lady who never told me whether Ethel was her first name or her last. She explained tasks to me with minimum detail, conserving her words, tinted with what I believed was an eastern European accent, as if they were more valuable than gold, and then expected me to do my work as silently and efficiently as she did.

Those first weeks were mostly sweeping and mopping and cleaning and dusting and....

I was so tired I lost track of all I was doing, but Mrs. Ethel watched silently, nodding occasionally, and pointing me to other areas when an area met her scrutiny. When I got home, I ate a bite to eat and then went to bed despite Clara's nightly pleas to go for a walk or to the ice cream shop or such.

"Are you learning anything, dear?" Ma asked me one morning while I ate breakfast and drank a cup of coffee before rushing on my way.

"No. You taught me everything I've done so far, but there's just a thousand times as much to do. I haven't even seen a patient except from the aisle down the center of the wards, but some of them are in terrible shape."

Ma nodded. "That's to be expected, dear. Only those who are really sick or injured would go to a hospital. I worry about you working there, Mary."

"It's what I want, Ma. Someday they'll teach me more."

There were hushed discussions in the wards one day about some new war in Europe, with more than one visitor carrying a newspaper. Being busy and about as tired as I'd been in my life, I didn't really care; Europe was far away and some spat between Austria-Hungary and Serbia wouldn't affect us in America. However, in the days that followed, more countries, like dominoes, declared war on each other and fell into the conflict, until most of Europe was eventually embroiled in it.

Pa received his newspaper every morning and I often flipped through it in the evening when I got home, hoping each day that something would have happened to end it, but less than a month after it started, the first large battle, Mons, was reported.

"I hope they'll learn from this and figure out a way to settle it," I said to Pa when we read about it in the paper the next evening.

He shook his head. "No, Mary, tempers are too high, and besides, this was just a bloody nose to the Brits. It will take a lot more, real body blows, to both sides before they'll be willing to sit down and work out their differences."

Pa was right, but the body blows came quickly and were even harder than I dreamed possible in the weeks and months that followed. The numbers of dead and wounded went up, often by leaps and bounds, each day, but it didn't affect us too much.

President Wilson declared that the United States was "impartial in thought as well as in action," but my thought was that it should stop, let everyone sit down, and work out their differences around a table.

Pa nodded in reply to my suggestion one evening before shaking his head sadly. "That would be best, Mary, but there are too many people with too many agendas involved. Besides, there isn't a table in the world that's big enough to do what you suggest until people have lost enough to be willing to compromise."

It seemed that Pa was right, with the fighting continuing and the losses continuing to mount.

***

Monday, August 20

The young doctor caught my eye again this afternoon, but this time I couldn't look away fast enough and he smiled at me. That made me smile, too, before I finally pulled my eyes away. I didn't see him again, so maybe by tomorrow he'll have forgotten about me. For me, I have to think about something else now if I'm going to get any sleep at all. Perhaps I'll be able to concentrate on writing a bit more of my story?

~~~

During the Fall of 1914, I kept going to the hospital and worked six days a week, being dead tired when I came home in the evening. Ma would usually make me eat, and Clara would often come and sit with me after she finished her homework. Sometimes she read to me since I was too tired to read on my own and sometimes I fell asleep to her words. My duties were still cleaning and more cleaning, but one day while scrubbing the ward, one of the patients called out to me.

"Missy, please? Please, come help me. Please?"

He sounded as if he was in pain, so I dried my hands on the bottom of my apron and moved to his bedside. "What is it, sir?"

The man had been badly injured in an accident at his work and couldn't move or do any of the little things that we commonly do without even thinking. Little movements, a rub of the nose, light scratches to wherever, even anything to help make himself more comfortable.

I helped him as I could and he thanked me, leading several others in the ward to begin doing the same in the days that followed. Mrs. Ethel caught me on occasion, but, rather than jump back to my work in embarrassment, I finished helping and then went back to my work. I was scared she would have me fired the first time, but she gave a little nod and her face looked a little less sad for a moment before she moved on.

Some days later, I finished helping make a patient more comfortable when I turned to see Mr. Linder watching me. "Mary, come with me."

I knew I was about to be fired so I followed with great trepidation, thinking of how my nursing career would be ended before it even began. When we were out in the main hall, he turned to me.

"Mary, what were you doing in there with Mr. Hennessey?"

"He was uncomfortable, sir, having been in one spot for hours. He asked me to help turn him a bit to give him some relief so I did. Patients ask me to help sometime when I'm cleaning their wards, so I do what I can while still getting my work done."

"Did you wash your hands beforehand?"

"Uh...no, sir."

"Be sure to do that next time someone asks for help. We don't want to spread infection. Oh, and use your legs to help lift like that; we don't want you hurting your back either. Now, carry on."

His comment and the little smile he gave me warmed my heart as he turned to go his way, and I called out, "Thank you, sir!" to his back.

After that, I spoke to the patients in the wards more often, and assisted when I could while still completing all of my assigned cleaning. Some days my ten-hour shift stretched to eleven or twelve or even thirteen hours, but my mind felt good about helping even if my body didn't.

***

Tuesday, August 21, 1917

The doctor who saw me yesterday didn't.

Forget, I mean. Today he approached me about a patient in my ward and then asked me to step out with him to discuss the patient's care.

"My name is Doctor Howard Trentlaw and I'm from Birmingham, about a hundred miles northwest of here."

"Yes, Dr. Trentlaw, it's nice to meet you," I replied.

He looked at me with his dark brown eyes and cocked his head a little and then a little more. "Well?"

I had no idea what he meant so I looked at him questioningly as he started to frown at me. Becoming nervous, I wiped my cheek, thinking perhaps I had a smudge of some type on it but his look slowly softened and he gave a low chuckle.

"What, sir?" I asked.

"Your name, miss? You didn't tell me your name. I can hardly ask you to dinner if I don't know your name."

Panicking, I turned and fled, more embarrassed than I've ever been in my life. I will have to find him and apologize tomorrow, but explaining to him will be tough.

~~~

As if the mistaken sinking of the William P. Frye, an American vessel, in March 1915 wasn't bad enough, a German U-boat's sinking of the British passenger ship R.M.S. Lusitania, with the loss of nearly 1,200 people including almost 130 Americans, in early May of 1915 pushed the United States closer to war. The newspapers seemed to beat the deadly drums in the weeks and months that followed, but the German government's agreement in September to end unrestricted submarine warfare calmed things a bit. Pa shook his head though, saying that wouldn't be enough and that we'd end up in the mess before too long. I love Pa dearly, but this time, I really hoped he'd be wrong.

It was a couple of months after the Lusitania was sunk and just past my 18th birthday in July when I ran into Mrs. Josaphina Cruickshank at the hospital. I saw her there quite often with students, but she always seemed to look past me as if I wasn't there. This time, though, she noticed me immediately and then stopped and said something to her charges before approaching me.

"Miss O'Grady, come see me at school next Monday at noon. I'll speak to Mr. Linder about your absence for an hour."

"Ah...thank you, Mrs. Cruickshank," I stammered, not expecting either her recognition after ignoring me so many times or her summons.

I was there as she'd requested and was quickly ushered into her office. "Miss O'Grady, Mr. Linder and Mrs. Ethel have given you good reports and I have witnessed the same. Do you still wish to become a nurse?"

"Thank you, ma'am, and most definitely."

"If I take you on, understand that I will not put up with inappropriate interactions with men or with lollygagging. If I catch you doing either, you will be out at once, understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I agreed excitedly. "I work hard and I don't, ahem, interact with men beyond what is absolutely necessary to do my job."

"It won't be as easy as you believe. You see, doctors generally ignore the housekeeping staff and the orderlies as if they're not here; they are too far below them and that's kept you safe thus far. However, they notice nurses and they talk among themselves. They watch the nurses, they meet them, and, like a pack of hungry wolves, they pursue them, running down those who stumble. You'll keep your interactions with them to the minimum, Miss O'Grady; promise me you will, or else you'll be out. Promise me!"

"Yes, ma'am! I promise," I said, meaning it with my whole being.

"Good. The new class starts on Tuesday after Labor Day. See Miss DeFranzio on your way out for the list of supplies you'll need and to make arrangements for payment."

"Thank you, Mrs. Cruickshank! Thank you so much," I gushed, but she waved her hand dismissively without looking up.

"You doing as you promised and doing the work well is my thanks, Miss O'Grady. Anything less is failure."

***

Wednesday, August 22, 1917

My stomach had butterflies as I approached him today. He was almost six feet tall with dark brown hair to match his eyes and a gleaming smile that made my knees weak when he flashed it at me. I'd read of such things in books but I assumed the authors were using artistic license until I felt it for myself. He was so handsome and so trim, I could only imagine him taking me in his arms and holding me--

Ah! I'm being as silly as I write it as I was when I felt it in the first place.

I approached Dr. Trentlaw and said, "Sir, please, accept my apology. My nursing teacher, Mrs. Josephina Cruickshank of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, taught her students that they weren't to speak with doctors, except as necessary with respect to our patients. I didn't know what to do when you spoke, but I am a grown woman and am no longer under Mrs. Cruickshank's tutelage."

His most handsome smile was just what I needed, giving me the strength to go on. "My name is Mary Flynn O'Grady, and it's very nice to meet you, sir, despite how I acted yesterday."

He was chuckling but trying not to show it as he continued smiling before adding a nod. "Miss O'Grady, how pleasant to meet you, too. And, I must add, your teacher was a dolt if she truly meant that since doctors and nurses must work together, both for their patients' good and for their own happiness, would you not agree?"

"Yes, sir," I agreed, readily seeing his point.

"So will you have dinner with me?"

Surprised at his invitation, I hesitated, I stammered, and I fled his presence once more.

Mrs. Josephina Cruickshank, it seems, has long tentacles.

~~~

Thus, in the Fall of 1915, I entered nursing school and found that it was even harder than my job of the past year. Miss Nabelli was our primary classroom teacher, and Mrs. Cruickshank and Miss Jacobs took the clinical portion of our training at the hospital. Miss Nabelli was shy and quiet until she stood in front of her chalkboard, at which point she immersed herself in the lesson and it was quite the task for students to keep up. Miss Jacobs focused primarily on the second-year students at the hospital, so I rarely saw her until the fall of 1916.

Still, it was Mrs. Cruickshank who interested me most. She was said to be a widow woman, though she never volunteered anything of her late husband, not even his name, and there were no photos of him at Cruickshank's School of Nursing. Some said he was a doctor, while others claimed he was a shyster and still others believed he was a confidence man who wasn't really dead at all. Whatever the case, her hair was always pulled up in a tight bun and she always had her cap pinned into place even if she wasn't going to be participating in a clinical setting that day.