RN Shift Report

My dear, discerning readers are aware of the pleasure I find in old things. Thus, I was enchanted by this slim volume brought into the clinic by one of our patients, a retired nurse. It's titled, Nurses' Verses; An Anthology of Poetry by America's Nurses: copyright 1941. I was prepared to find the poems old-fashioned and sentimental, written by nurses who were little more than hand maids following physicians around mindlessly. And, actually, there were a few that fell into that category. But I was pleasantly surprised to find that most were thoughtful and poetic, with deep understanding of the human body and it's need for comfort and care. There was far more earthiness and spirituality expressed in regards to nursing care than I hear in "modern" hospitals and clinics. We become focused on fancy scans, and tests that are sent off to Mayo, and "state of the art" equipment. The real art of nursing and medicine is not trusted. All that counts is what can be counted. With that said, I'm going to share a few of my favorites from this delightful book.

Prayer for Dying Midwife by Merle Perry

She eased them gently from the womb,
and bathed their blinking eyes, and clipt
The cord between them and the narrow
Dark where they had slept.

And now her time has come to push
Her way into the light, and soon
She will be through the corridor
And blinking in the sun.

Send the celestial midwife down
To ease her painful birthing, Lord,
And wipe the dark out of her eyes
And cut the mortal cord.
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On a lighter note: I have worked many night shifts at hospitals and this next poem describes exactly how I felt when I looked out a window to the east and saw dawn approaching. (Not only was it pretty, it meant the end of my shift was getting close!)

Hospital Dawn by Edna A Hurd

Islands of cloud in an amber sky
Usher the dawn;
Robins awake and offer their high
Joy-noted song.

Spruce silhouettes stand darkly blue
Against the light;
The grass is rich and damp with dew--
A jewelled sight.

I'm glad I'm on nights at this holy hour
Of glowing morn,
For the Artist is close, and I feel His power,
As he paints the dawn.