enemy is the snow. Last night it fell thickly again. When I took down the blackout boards on the ward this morning, I gasped. The world had turned white. Later in the day, I was woken by tyres skidding outside the hospital and a barrage of hooting. Half asleep still, I went to the window and looked out. An ambulance was desperately trying to get through the snow. In front of it, a lorry was stuck fast. There were soldiers swarming all around it, trying to get it moving again. One of them even put his shoulder to it and tried to push it up the drive!
A minute later the ambulance doors opened and a stretcher was carefully passed down. The stretcher bearers walked slowly through the snow to the hospital, eyes fixed on the ground in case they slipped.
Sister Adams was looking rather flushed last night and I heard her sneezing when I went past the office. There’s been an outbreak of influenza in the hospital. I do hope she’s not going to be its next victim.
Wednesday 10 January
Absolute pandemonium!
The hospital’s overflowing with cases of influenza – both patients and staff. In our ward first it was Sister Adams, and now poor Molly’s sick. The patients have had to be shifted in and out of wards, and forms have to be filled in each time someone’s moved. I’m amazed we’ve not lost anyone yet.
Yesterday we ran out of beds and the stretcher bearers had to dump the stretchers on the floor between the beds, their occupants still in them. When I came on duty last night, Sister took me on one side. She told me that she’d asked for extra help, but that there isn’t any. All the other hospitals in the area have been hit hard by flu, too.
Between the two of us we have to do everything: settle the patients down for the night – including all the extra ones, who’re still lying on the floor – take round the medicines, give injections and do the TPRs. A lot of this will be down to me now as Sister will be flitting through the other wards in her charge. She told me to call Matron or the duty MO if there were any emergencies. I felt really scared but I knew I just had to knuckle down. I’ve always wanted responsibility. Well, now I’ve got it.
Several of our patients have bronchitis and we’re afraid that we might have a case of pneumonia on our hands, too. Even our marvellous new drug – M&B693 – cannot always cure pneumonia and the illness requires very careful nursing. And Sister Adams is still a bit weak after her illness. Just how we’d cope I cannot imagine.
Friday 12 January
Thomson developed pneumonia on Wednesday night and we had to move him into a side room. That first night I spent most of my time running in and out of it – and once we had to redo his kaolin poultice, which he’d been given to soothe the pain in his chest. It gets worse when he coughs, which is often. Then every four hours Sister popped by to give him his medicine.
We were so busy! Last night, though, there was another VAD to help us. My word, weren’t we pleased to see her! If I hadn’t been so busy, I’d have smiled at her nervous, eager expression as she hovered at the ward door – so like me, the day I began. I find it hard to believe that was only a few short months ago. Sister asked her to “special nurse” Thomson, and so she sat down obediently by his bed and glued her eyes to him.
“Any change in his condition must be reported to me at once,” Sister told us firmly. “If you can’t find me, tell the MO.”
Our new VAD nodded, eyes still stuck on Thomson. She looked terrified, so after a while, I went up to check that everything was all right. At about one o’clock she looked as though she was struggling to stay awake so I told her to make us all a mug of Ovaltine. She looked very relieved as she scampered off to the ward kitchen. I sat down in her place. Poor Thomson’s breathing still sounded awfully heavy so I propped him up a little on his pillow and gently rubbed his back. Sister had
A minute later the ambulance doors opened and a stretcher was carefully passed down. The stretcher bearers walked slowly through the snow to the hospital, eyes fixed on the ground in case they slipped.
Sister Adams was looking rather flushed last night and I heard her sneezing when I went past the office. There’s been an outbreak of influenza in the hospital. I do hope she’s not going to be its next victim.
Wednesday 10 January
Absolute pandemonium!
The hospital’s overflowing with cases of influenza – both patients and staff. In our ward first it was Sister Adams, and now poor Molly’s sick. The patients have had to be shifted in and out of wards, and forms have to be filled in each time someone’s moved. I’m amazed we’ve not lost anyone yet.
Yesterday we ran out of beds and the stretcher bearers had to dump the stretchers on the floor between the beds, their occupants still in them. When I came on duty last night, Sister took me on one side. She told me that she’d asked for extra help, but that there isn’t any. All the other hospitals in the area have been hit hard by flu, too.
Between the two of us we have to do everything: settle the patients down for the night – including all the extra ones, who’re still lying on the floor – take round the medicines, give injections and do the TPRs. A lot of this will be down to me now as Sister will be flitting through the other wards in her charge. She told me to call Matron or the duty MO if there were any emergencies. I felt really scared but I knew I just had to knuckle down. I’ve always wanted responsibility. Well, now I’ve got it.
Several of our patients have bronchitis and we’re afraid that we might have a case of pneumonia on our hands, too. Even our marvellous new drug – M&B693 – cannot always cure pneumonia and the illness requires very careful nursing. And Sister Adams is still a bit weak after her illness. Just how we’d cope I cannot imagine.
Friday 12 January
Thomson developed pneumonia on Wednesday night and we had to move him into a side room. That first night I spent most of my time running in and out of it – and once we had to redo his kaolin poultice, which he’d been given to soothe the pain in his chest. It gets worse when he coughs, which is often. Then every four hours Sister popped by to give him his medicine.
We were so busy! Last night, though, there was another VAD to help us. My word, weren’t we pleased to see her! If I hadn’t been so busy, I’d have smiled at her nervous, eager expression as she hovered at the ward door – so like me, the day I began. I find it hard to believe that was only a few short months ago. Sister asked her to “special nurse” Thomson, and so she sat down obediently by his bed and glued her eyes to him.
“Any change in his condition must be reported to me at once,” Sister told us firmly. “If you can’t find me, tell the MO.”
Our new VAD nodded, eyes still stuck on Thomson. She looked terrified, so after a while, I went up to check that everything was all right. At about one o’clock she looked as though she was struggling to stay awake so I told her to make us all a mug of Ovaltine. She looked very relieved as she scampered off to the ward kitchen. I sat down in her place. Poor Thomson’s breathing still sounded awfully heavy so I propped him up a little on his pillow and gently rubbed his back. Sister had
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