Read Online I Knew You'd Have Brown Eyes by Mary Tennant - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mary Tennant
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didn’t have to say much. It was obvious that our patients were distressed. When I told her my thoughts about the new configuration she listened, thanked me and left.
Days went by and I heard nothing, then one day I was transferred to the main hospital to work in the post-operative ward for patients recovering from complicated cardiac surgery. I knew my transfer was probably because of my letter but I didn’t know if I was being punished, rewarded or just moved sideways to avoid conflict with Sister Thomson. I was elated and nervous at the same time.
On my final morning shift on the ward, before my transfer had taken effect, I was alone in the nurses’ change rooms. Sister Thomson walked in, crying.
‘You think you’re so smart don’t you?’ she said. ‘I knew you were trouble when I first met you.’
‘Look, if you’re talking about the patients, I felt strongly that you’d made a mistake, moving them around like that, they’re confused and it’s our job to make them comfortable, not confuse them more.’
‘You’re a little upstart. You’ll learn.’ With that, she stormed out of the change room. I didn’t know what to expect when I entered the ward. It was going to be a rough day. Sister Thomson remained in her office all morning and it was only when I was on my lunch break and far away from the ward that another nurse told me Sister Thomson had been asked to leave. I felt terrible. It was harsh punishment, but it was my job to be the patient’s advocate.
Though I may have appeared to be a fierce warrior at work, my personal life was another matter. I was twenty-one and many of my school friends were getting married. I was continually asking for Saturday afternoons off to attend weddings and it was getting me down. The invitations always asked for ‘Mary and Friend’, but I had no friend. Sometimes I’d be seated at the wedding reception with other single male invitees. I was shy in their company and I also felt I was used goods. Who would want to know a girl who’d had a baby? Even if we hit it off and started dating, how and when could I tell my story? It was best to remain alone, but I still wanted love.
I worked for a year in the cardiothoracic ward. The charge nurse, Sister Regan, was the best I had ever encountered. She treated her patients with compassion and all her staff as valuable members of the team – no matter their status. Her energy was infectious. On arrival for morning shift at 7 am she would help us shower all the patients – or give bed baths, according to their mobility – and make the beds. We worked quickly and efficiently. After the heavy work was done, all the nurses shared morning coffee together. I would have stayed in that ward longer if events hadn’t intervened.
Around this time I met a male nurse who was involved with a Catholic youth group in Brisbane. His family had a dairy farm a few hours west of Brisbane and he invited a group of us to come up one weekend. I fell in love with the farm, his family and with him. Unfortunately, he did not feel the same way and this rejection fed my self-doubt. I was stuck in unrequited love and could see no way out.
I moved into a house on the outskirts of Brisbane, near Caboolture, in a small hamlet called Roxburg. My housemates, two couples, were a warm, stabilising influence on me. They taught me about relationships based on respect and love. I relaxed in their company and enjoyed the peace and quiet of the bush setting.
One Sunday afternoon I invited my parents to come for lunch and I prepared a picnic. I wanted to show them that I was getting on with my life and was not a failure.
‘I made some salads. Let’s take a picnic blanket and sit under the trees,’ I suggested.
‘Why can’t we eat here?’ Mum said. She hated the heat.
‘It’s cool under the tree.’
We walked to a clearing, under two huge gum trees that threw their shade, making a lovely cool place to lay the blanket. I had two chairs and placed
Days went by and I heard nothing, then one day I was transferred to the main hospital to work in the post-operative ward for patients recovering from complicated cardiac surgery. I knew my transfer was probably because of my letter but I didn’t know if I was being punished, rewarded or just moved sideways to avoid conflict with Sister Thomson. I was elated and nervous at the same time.
On my final morning shift on the ward, before my transfer had taken effect, I was alone in the nurses’ change rooms. Sister Thomson walked in, crying.
‘You think you’re so smart don’t you?’ she said. ‘I knew you were trouble when I first met you.’
‘Look, if you’re talking about the patients, I felt strongly that you’d made a mistake, moving them around like that, they’re confused and it’s our job to make them comfortable, not confuse them more.’
‘You’re a little upstart. You’ll learn.’ With that, she stormed out of the change room. I didn’t know what to expect when I entered the ward. It was going to be a rough day. Sister Thomson remained in her office all morning and it was only when I was on my lunch break and far away from the ward that another nurse told me Sister Thomson had been asked to leave. I felt terrible. It was harsh punishment, but it was my job to be the patient’s advocate.
Though I may have appeared to be a fierce warrior at work, my personal life was another matter. I was twenty-one and many of my school friends were getting married. I was continually asking for Saturday afternoons off to attend weddings and it was getting me down. The invitations always asked for ‘Mary and Friend’, but I had no friend. Sometimes I’d be seated at the wedding reception with other single male invitees. I was shy in their company and I also felt I was used goods. Who would want to know a girl who’d had a baby? Even if we hit it off and started dating, how and when could I tell my story? It was best to remain alone, but I still wanted love.
I worked for a year in the cardiothoracic ward. The charge nurse, Sister Regan, was the best I had ever encountered. She treated her patients with compassion and all her staff as valuable members of the team – no matter their status. Her energy was infectious. On arrival for morning shift at 7 am she would help us shower all the patients – or give bed baths, according to their mobility – and make the beds. We worked quickly and efficiently. After the heavy work was done, all the nurses shared morning coffee together. I would have stayed in that ward longer if events hadn’t intervened.
Around this time I met a male nurse who was involved with a Catholic youth group in Brisbane. His family had a dairy farm a few hours west of Brisbane and he invited a group of us to come up one weekend. I fell in love with the farm, his family and with him. Unfortunately, he did not feel the same way and this rejection fed my self-doubt. I was stuck in unrequited love and could see no way out.
I moved into a house on the outskirts of Brisbane, near Caboolture, in a small hamlet called Roxburg. My housemates, two couples, were a warm, stabilising influence on me. They taught me about relationships based on respect and love. I relaxed in their company and enjoyed the peace and quiet of the bush setting.
One Sunday afternoon I invited my parents to come for lunch and I prepared a picnic. I wanted to show them that I was getting on with my life and was not a failure.
‘I made some salads. Let’s take a picnic blanket and sit under the trees,’ I suggested.
‘Why can’t we eat here?’ Mum said. She hated the heat.
‘It’s cool under the tree.’
We walked to a clearing, under two huge gum trees that threw their shade, making a lovely cool place to lay the blanket. I had two chairs and placed
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