Nursing School- Year Two

evolution of student nurse uniforms

The challenges of Second year were both dramatic and terrifying!

The attrition factor took its toll.  

Our freshman class began with 33 idealistic young girls.  At the start of junior year, that number had dropped to a mere 22.  By the time we graduated in 1971, only sixteen students would remain!  That is only a 50% survival rate.

The first to go were the “commuters”.
I think this was due in part to their not being present on the hospital campus 24/7.  Because of this, they were perceived as not being as committed and focused as the rest of us.
And, like the married students, I feel there was a certain prejudice against the girls who commuted daily as opposed to those of us who were under their constant surveillance.

My friends and I all lost our original roommates to the survival of the fittest factor.

 The threat of “Probation” and termination was an ever present reality in our scholastic world.

Cindy was a member of the honor society in high school and Donna and I were above average students (when we applied ourselves), but that first year of nursing school was a major struggle for us all. 

Three D’s and you were out of the program.  Period.  No chance for make ups or special credit projects.

I got my first D in Foundations of Nursing.  This was a cake subject and should have been an easy A, but I had difficulty adjusting and slept through much of my first year.  Big mistake in this class!  I think they took my lack of participation very personally.

My second D was in Chemistry, a dubious honor I shared with the majority of the class, including my friends.

There was no grading curve or we all would have passed in better standing.

I remember our  teacher just shaking her head and laughing in astonishment and frustration.  Mrs. Smith had a brilliant mind but did not possess the necessary skills to teach at our level.  Talk about a failure to communicate.

Three strikes and you're OUT! (literally)

Going into my second year, something finally clicked in terms of intellectual comprehension.

 I began to focus and make the grades necessary to remain safe from dismissal.  Actually, by senior year I was pulling all A’s and upon graduation, received the Faculty award for “most improved student”.   Clearly, I had had a long way to go!

Halloween with Donna, Carol and Cindy.  Tee peeing hallway.   Fetal pig!

We left the worst of our "theory" behind us as we began  Junior year. (There was no Sophomore year)

Year two would provide us the opportunity to enter into the clinical phase of our education. 

We had spent endless months cooped up in stuffy classrooms and the most exciting adventure we shared was dissecting fetal pigs.  We now were released into the world of actual patient care.

Our class was divided into groups of five and placed into a variety of nursing specialties, meant to develop our skills and see which direction our future careers might be heading.

These were Medical/Surgical Nursing, Maternity, Operating Room, Psychiatric Nursing, and Pediatrics.  Each course was of approximately three months duration.

Students in today’s culture are on the nursing units for a few short hours with a one patient assignment, shadowed by an ever present  instructor and co assigned with a staff nurse preceptor.  They are overly micromanaged and given few opportunities  to develop their own organizational skills.  There are so many rules and limitations in effect that the student certainly does NOT come away from her experience with a realistic picture of the nurse’s true job description.

 Back in the late sixties, the student nurse was responsible for a full assignment and worked an eight hour shift along with the regular staff. You were expected to assimilate and pull your own weight. 

the old Alcazar with its red tiled roof (Cleveland Metro/Psych)

Our Psych rotation involved our temporary placement into the Metro Health system at the Cleveland Psychiatric Institute, now defunct. It was formerly called The Cleveland Lunatic Asylum!  (really)

This was mostly a ward based, locked  institution for the hard pressed and down-trodden minorities.

In the late 60’s, medication was not nearly as advanced or therapeutic  as today’s modern pharmaceuticals.  Let’s just say there were more leather restraints and electroshock therapy then I would care to see in a lifetime.  Between the staff and patients,  I was exposed to so much second hand smoke that I could hardly wait to return to the fresh air of my dormitory!

The only advantage and perks of being housed in this Metro dorm was that we now had our own sink in our very own private room!  
Our one barred window was permanently stained and overlooked a busy freeway. Located above the Inner Belt Viaduct, traffic sounds and pollution were an ever present background and the constant stench of the area still resides somewhere in my olfactory memory.

Operating Room rotation- Judi and Donna

setting up  my table

The Operating Room rotation was a favorite for my friends, although I never was comfortable with the bad manners of some of the surgeons.
One imposing and particularly cruel man was Dr. Beargie, a vascular surgeon.  He was egotistical and mean and enjoyed humiliating  the student nurses and reducing them to tears.  And yes, some surgeons DID indeed throw instruments as often as they threw temper tantrums.

(I was glad I wore a mask to hide behind for a bit of anonymity!)

Thank God there were also some real sweet hearts in the field like Dr. Driver and Dr. Domingo.  And I could write an entire blog on Dr. Tuason, a Filipino anesthesiologist who stole the hearts of every student on that rotation. (Donna, remember the curious case of the feather in the mailbox?

autoclave

But I will never forget the day my friend Cindy blew up a surgical instrument sterilization device called the autoclave.  Located between surgical suits in a small ante room, it cleaned instruments by utilizing a high pressure saturated steam at 121 degrees.

We heard the explosive sound as it erupted and seconds later, Cindy staggered into the surgical arena and collapsed on the floor!  We were in the middle of a case and, at first, everyone just froze.  Then all Hell broke loose!  Despite sterile technique, people flew into the room from all directions and even the surgeon broke scrub to assist.

Poor Cindy was taken away on a cart.  She suffered third degree burns on her ankle and had to be housed in the special quarters on first floor of dorm  for weeks.  I am sure she still has scars, emotionally and physically to this day. (Can you even imagine the lawsuit awards and settlements that would have resulted if this had happened in today's sue happy society?!)  Wonder if the laws of limitation apply?
  I have to admit, on some sick level I was a bit jealous of the attention and drama.

My favorite rotation was Pediatrics.  I was a top rated baby sitter with years of experience behind me, so it is not surprising that I would gravitate towards that specialty. Childhood cancer in the late 60’s was a terminal sentence and I have never really come to terms with that concept of death in one so young.

scrubbing up in OB

Maternity nursing was another favorite.  In order to get in the designated amount of delivery experiences, students were placed “on call” and would be summoned back to the hospital in the evening when a birth appeared eminent.

I hated the " labor" stage in this birthing process. (It's not called labor for nothing!) We lived in an area where there was a high population of gypsies. They had a low threshold of pain and were very vocal; a bad combination.  (I can still hear them shrieking their incessant “Aye, yai yai yai yai” in my nightmares!) 

Back then, you had to prep the mother.  That included, among other things, an enema and complete shave.  I don’t know who was more embarrassed, but I was always concerned that the baby’s head would be “down there” and that I would give him his first unofficial haircut!

This was back in the “good old days” before video recorders and smart phones.  Strict visitation rules prevented a cast of thousands of family and friends from converging upon the scene to witness and document the blessed event from every angle. 

weighing the newborn

The father’s to be were corralled into a small smokey room where they would pace and await the announcement of  “It’s a boy”! 
Yes, in the 60’s before ultrasounds and 3 d photographs that showed every nuance of your baby’s profile, the sex of your child was a long anticipated surprise! 
After hearing the news, daddy would hand out cigars, kiss his wife good bye and leave the building.  There was no family centered care or rooming in.  Oh, how I long for those long forgotten times.

I most enjoyed nursery and caring for the mothers after they had delivered.  I loved giving the bath demonstrations using a live newborn to show the proper steps in bathing.  Part of me was always a bit paranoid that I would drop the slippery infant on the floor!

my junior cap with two black bands

Med/Surg did not have the same emotional appeal as the other specialties but this is where we learned our procedures, honed our skills and really earned our bread and butter. Practice makes perfect!

no velcrove!

Our instructor, Miss Jacobson, was the epitome of a professional nurse.  From head to toe, she was dressed in pristine white and her cap graced her perfectly coiffed hair like a hallo.   She was also the most intimidating woman I have ever met!  She had a perpetual pained expression plastered on her face, probably as a consequence of having to supervise students who could never hope to rise to the levels of her expectations.  In our defense, we did try.

glass syringes

I remember the first injection I ever gave was to a handsome young man with tattoos on his upper arm.  I was so distracted that I am not certain I hit my mark, as the tattoo had a face and I was trying to avoid the general area of the eyes!

There was definitely a learning curve involved. 
Organization was a difficult concept and I know I made many needless trips back and forth to the supply room to gather my equipment. It was like an endless scavenger hunt!

Plain and simple, I am a klutz.   That did nothing to endure me to my instructors or hospital staff. 

non disposable mercury filled

I remember dropping an entire metal tray of glass thermometers into the commode when I was leaning down to flush the toilet.  (This was before personal protective equipment was the fashion! Today you wear gown, gloves, mask, goggles, etc. Back then, hand washing was about all we had!) Too little, too late...
When you think of all the mercury in broken thermometers and sphigomos that we were exposed to, it is miraculous that we are not all suffering from some Post Traumatic Mercury Syndrome.  Or perhaps some of us are?

To be continued

Nursing School- memories of a lost art

part one (the beginning)

I'll never forget that late Sunday afternoon in the Fall of 1968.  The air was full of promise (and the smell of decaying leaves) as  I first stepped out from the security of my father's car,  climbed up those eleven steps and was "buzzed" into the building that would become my home for the next three years.



The entrance was guarded by a small but powerful woman named Mrs. Yetka. She served as Housemother (residence director) and prison matron for the boarding students of the Lutheran Hospital school of Nursing.  She was a legend in her own time!
33 new students arrived that day and were gathered together in the ancient foyer. We tried to remain inconspicuous and not draw any unwanted attention to ourselves.  What a pathetic assembly.
All my personal belongings, a pitiful summation of my life thus far, were placed into a plastic laundry basket. I didn't even own a suitcase at that point in my life!
Everything on the list had been carefully collected to comply with the rules and regulations mailed out earlier that summer. We were directed to bring " an alarm clock, toiletries, sturdy white oxfords and an ample supply of white hose".
*Panty hose was a new concept that just came into existence during my last years in high school and I was thankful to give up the compression girdle with the attached rubber straps that were supposed to hold each  individual stocking secure but only succeeded in pulling down my pants.  In those days, I was built like an ironing board!
Cindy and Donna, two of my high school friends, were among the group of anxious arrivals.  I was hoping that my best friend Cindy would be my room mate.  But instead, we were each assigned a virtual stranger!
This was probably an intentional strategy to prevent us from becoming too familiar in our unfamiliar surroundings. The emphasis on stress reduction, environmental conditioning and attention to our personal comfort were decades in the future of educational focus.
Built in 1937, the building was a classic old Nursing school with pillars and an old red brick exterior. It was three stories high with a tar roof (perfect for sunbathing) and located a stone's throw away from the matching historic carriage house.

built in circa 1854: The Franklin  carriage House.
Lutheran Hospital was founded in 1896 and is one of the oldest institutions in the Franklin Circle Neighborhood.

The dorm was connected to the main hospital via a cement  tunnel, deep in the basement. The passage closely bordered the hospital morgue. It also lead to the employee cafeteria. (left turn to the morgue, right turn to our dinner.) Hmmm. Something to think about.
The hospital was located at West 25th and Franklin.  I think our dorm was around the corner on Jay street.
The majority of the first floor consisted of the housemother's quarters and a formal dining room/living room.
We were presented the first of many "Teas" that afternoon with the hospital's Ladies Board members serving as hostesses. They distributed dainty little cakes on sterling silver trays and poured tea into delicate china cups. The tables were covered in white linen and the atmosphere was very ceremonial.
The office was  located near the entrance and the individual combination lock mailboxes (with see through glass fronts)  were affixed to the outside wall.  The infamous "sign in" Kardex was also housed there.
Just beyond the office/information area, there was a swing door entrance into the student housing area.

There was a baby grand piano and one console television set located in the formal living room, both to be shared by over 100 students.  (During my junior year, they turned one of the student dorm rooms into a "TV room" and Donna and I quickly laid claim and spent most of our evenings "studying" in this sacred refuge for the next two years.)
As we wandered aimlessly throughout the first floor,  we mingled and tried to appear more mature, independent and self assured than any of us actually felt.
After our tearful goodbyes to our departing family members, we were cloistered within the walls of our new dormitory and the doors were locked behind us.
We were permitted to escape to freedom on weekends and holidays, but otherwise utterly contained and committed to our newly chosen profession as future nurses.
The freshmen student nurses (called  probies) resided on the third floor.  There were no elevators for our convenience. You had to be in tip top shape just to survive dorm life!

Housed two to a room, you got the luck of the draw in terms of room mate assignments.

studing at my desk wearing my probie cap

Each side of the room was a mirror image of the other.  The furniture provided consisted of a single wood frame bed, a standing lamp, desk chair and a  hutch like dresser. This rather bizarre piece served  to store our clothing and, with a simple flip of the hinged lid, provided a study area upon which to place your manual typewriter. (Yes, no word processors or computers in the 60's!)  We each had a narrow book shelf and our own closet with additional storage space.

my closet on the right- in my freshman student nurse uniform

They supplied the linen, blankets and mattresses.  You supplied a pillow and any other items necessary to make the room more like a home than an institution.  (Donna was artistically inclined and later, as my room mate in year two, created some ingenious art to transform our room into something colorful and charming)
I had my Grandma's old quilt and some of my stuffed animals to comfort me.
No TV or hot plates, microwaves or other luxuries.  You were allowed a radio or small record player.

My first "roomie" was another teenager fresh out of high school and away from home for the first time.  However, that was where our similarities began and ended.
Linda was "in love" with Frank.  I would learn to eat, drink and sleep "Frank" for the next two semesters. She, on the other hand, got the shorter end of the stick and was forced to endure my peculiar habit of playing the record player each night to ease  into a sleep state.  I  was fixated on musical theater and played the same annoying LP sound tracks over and over again. She expressed a particular aversion to Rosemary's baby.  I must admit, it featured a rather haunting and melancholy theme and, yes, was a bit creepy!

"roomies"- Donna and Judi in our beautifully decorated room

We both received a reprieve in the person of my next room mate, Donna.  (She and I would stay together for the remainder of our  school days and are to this day great friends. I was never able to room with Cindy but we have maintained a close friendship as well.)
I was raised with six brothers and three baby sisters. I had always wanted a sister in my own age group, and this was to be Donna.  She also assumed many other unsolicited roles such as interior decorator,  stylist and personal maid.
Each floor had its own dorm bathroom with one tub and 10 marble sinks lined up like an Army barracks.  A long mirror stretched across the entire length with an accompanying shelf.  The toilets were provided with privacy stalls, thank goodness.  I don't remember any showers.  How did we get by with one bath tub for 40 some girls?
Our room had the advantage of two windows, one on the north side and the other on the west, providing a lovely cross breeze. There was no central air or air conditioning units (or even a fan)  for our third floor walk up. Cleveland in the summertime was hot and sultry.

Like many hospitals in big cities, ours was located in the "bad" section of town and we had a curfew that was strictly adhered to.
We had to be in the door by 10 PM or you would be locked out alone in the neighborhood, never to be seen or heard from again! It was a warning that we took to heart.
Our front window overlooked an apartment building that most certainly was a "house of ill repute"! We would be entertained by the comings and goings that were to transpire over the next three years.
There were no smart phones or even personal beepers in those days.  In fact, there were no actual phones in the rooms!  We had an ancient intercom system above one of the beds that would emit the most obnoxious sounds when it was activated on those rare occasions when you had a visitor or phone call.
If you overslept,  the instructor buzzed you down to the class room, initiating a sound guaranteed to make your blood run cold.
If the summons was a personal phone call, you had to go down the hall to the only phone with an outside line on the entire floor and wait for your turn at bat. There was no privacy.  Romance and long term relationships were frowned upon.  In fact, my first room mate Linda finally married her "Frank" in the third year and they set about to remove her from the class even as the echo of her wedding vows still hung in the air.  Marriage during nursing school was definitely a "no no" back in those days.
We had an eclectic group of characters that taught us the art of nursing, the majority being spinsters and old maids.

Miss Pfost

Our "Foundations of Nursing" instructors were two women who defied age classification. They most likely served as war nurses in the Civil War!
  The one was tall and straight as an arrow and the other  vertically impaired.  "Oldenburg and Pfost"- a dynamic duo if ever I saw one.
Miss Oldenburg had crippling arthritis and was as gnarly and bent as an old witch. Poor lady, she barely ambulated on her quad canes and it was awkward at best to perform clinical skills with her supervising you.
Miss Pfost had a perpetual smirk on her face and was a women of few words and expressions.  However, I do remember her unbridled delight on one rare occasion when the class sang her a chorus of her favorite song "Do you know the way to San Jose"!
Despite their obvious short comings (or maybe ours), they managed to teach us the very basic baby steps of nursing that would form the foundation of our professional career.
We were a sheltered, naive and innocent lot.  We did not seem to be affected by the chaotic events of the late sixties in the world outside our compound.  Hippies, free love, drugs and war protests did not filter into our community.
We were oblivious and kept ourselves busy learning the finer points of Bed baths 101.  Questionable skills such as the three step process on how to correctly fold a washcloth to maintain maximum temperature containment.
Then there was the incessant practicing procedures on the antique rubber mannequins that were worthy of some museum exhibit.  Try catheterizing hard plastic genitals that were not compliant and  so far from the human experience.  Sterile technique was an impossible concept to grasp under these conditions. (so was the plastic labia!)
Bed making was a multi step process with layers of material from the basic flat sheets (no fitted sheets in 1968) to the rubber protective pad and top draw sheets. You had to remember at all times the proper numerical sequence of folds involved in preparing a post op bed.  And yes, you better be able to bounce a quarter when you were done.
All this for around $500 a semester!  This included "room and board"-  three square meals a day.  Cafeteria style, help yourself to all you can eat. This was the era when cafeterias served homemade food prepared by wonderful ethnic cooks. Coming from the limited resources of a family of twelve, I was in seventh Heaven!
Also included were your uniforms which consisted of a simple light blue dress, a starched white apron and bib, and your "crown of glory", the nursing cap.  You wore this with pride and dignity.

Each year you were given 3-5 complete uniforms that were washed,  starched and pressed to perfection by the hospital laundry. You had special buttons with metal pins to "put together"  your apron and bibs.

capping ceremony- Judi, Donna and Cindy

There was a capping ceremony performed at the beginning of our freshman year that was very solemn and auspicious.
In addition to being "capped", we were given a long stem red rose and a signature Florence Nightingale white ceramic lamp to commemorate this special event in our nursing career.  We walked down the aisle with lit candles in our lamps and were a vision to behold.
This was held at my father's church and he presided over the official ceremony.  How proud I was.
Each year a horizontal black band was added across the top of cap to reflect your status and progression through the three year program.  And of course, there was a "Banding Ceremony" for each additional stripe along the way. Upon graduation, it returned to its original pure white state.
You had the responsibility of polishing your shoes and maintaining run free hose. (Who even polishes shoes anymore?)  Your nursing cap came as a flat t shaped piece of white starched linen, and you had to fold it and hold it in place with white bobby pins.
Hair was kept short or off the collar. No exceptions. Absolutely no jewelry except the ever present watch with the second hand.

hair up in buns

Did I mention maid service?  Our linen was replaced weekly and the rooms were cleaned by housekeeping staff.  We  stole and hoarded extra towels for our personal use. What a pampered lot we were.
Although you had to be careful to hide your incense, candles (stolen linen) and other contraband from prying eyes or they would confiscate your wares and demerits would be issued.
Besides room and board, our textbooks and other reference materials were provided throughout the three year curriculum.  Our bookshelves bulged with Anatomy, Physiology, Psychology, Microbiology and other course requirements that would rob us of sleep and well being.
Nursing school was an alien world full of terminology as foreign to us as an unknown language and equipment that threatened our sanity.
It took me days to even see the mercury on the old glass thermometers, let alone to be able to read it! And the sphigmomonometer was as hard to use as it was to spell!
Simple directions created complicated responses.
I remember causing a bit of a panic when I charted a patient having had nine stools in one hour.
No, he did not have a case of terminal diarrhea but rather a student nurse who counted each individual piece of feces in the bedpan.   Live and learn.

1942- old  Cleveland Trust Bank on corner of West 25th Street

which the hospital later razed for a parking lot. The hospital is just down the street behind bank and our nursing school dorm was around the corner to the left past the hospital.

1963- new facade of primary building of Lutheran Hospital

Detroit-Superior Bridge

We would save our hard earned money that we made on week ends working as student nurse techs and explore the wonders and bargains found on 25th street and downtown.
Donna and I crossed this bridge many times to eat at the famous old Silver Grille in the Higbee Department store.
It stands 96 feet above the Cuyahoga river and links West side with East side, terminating at Public Square.
It was a windy and scary walk and my fear of heights did nothing to minimize the perceived potential for danger.

Lutheran Hospital as it looks today

TO BE CONTINUED.

He who shall not be named...yet!

Renee gave birth to a darling little baby boy on March 12, 2014.  He weighed in at 9 lbs 1 oz and was 21 inches long.  He appears to be a "ginger" (a common nickname for people with red hair) like his Mommy but looks just like his Daddy!   Renee had a C Section after 12 hours of labor.  Billy was at her side throughout the ordeal.

We are anxiously awaiting the naming of the baby!   Being considered for the honor for the first child and first grandchild on both sides of his family are the following contenders:  Kai, Logan, Ethan, Silas, or Nolan- to name a few.   (Middle name will be "William" after his daddy.) We will keep you posted.
Being that both his baby shower and his day of birth occurred  in the midst of severe snow storms , might I suggest the more than appropriate name of  "Storm"?  (Snow, Polar, Vortex...)

*We have a winner:  Logan William Meeks!

and baby makes three

fresh from his circumcision

Daddy's hands

kissy lips

proud Grandma

rooming in

view from window of Metro Park

Daddy's corner

beautiful, beautiful, beautiful... beautiful boy!

It's a BOY!

For those of you who could not make it to the shower (including myself!), here is a photo representation of Renee's baby shower.
Thank you to Lori for taking the beautiful photographs.

Baby Meeks is due in mid March.

The shower was held on February 9th at Renee and Billy's new home in Lakewood, Ohio.

the happy parents to be: Billy & Renee

the sisters-in-law Renee and Jenn

The brave guests:  40 expected  but weather was a factor!

Renee's friends

Beth's baby wish

Beth's wishing tree

the baby loot

future grandmas to be

enjoying the treats in beautiful living room

oh, the weather outside was frightful...

Renee's back yard