Excerpt
CHAPTER ONE
Girl Scout Camp A Ghost in the Lodge
About age ten, I enjoyed my second summer at camp. At the end of the first week, our unit gathered for a party in the unit lodge to tell ghost stories. Our counselors, two college students in their junior and senior years at the University of Oklahoma, knew how to entertain. Tables and benches pushed aside, all the campers sat in a big circle on the hardwood floor of the rustic log lodge. A small fire burned in the fireplace and the flickering light added to the ambiance. Heavy board shutters for the large windows without screens, hooked on the outside to stay open. The counselors served ice cream, cookies, popcorn popped on the open fire, and drinks. The girls took turns telling their favorite ghost stories.
Toward the end of the evening, at our request, one counselor began the tale of “The Monkey’s Paw.” Near the end of the story, the wife wishes on the magical paw for the return of her son who died in a horrible car crash. Her husband warned her not to do it.
“There is a knock on their front door,” the counselor said with sound effects and great dramatic flair. She continued, “The husband yells from upstairs for his wife not to open the door.” The other counselor yelled from the kitchen, “No, no, you must not open the door.”
The first counselor continued the story, “but the wife, determined to have her son back, no matter what, yanked open the front door and. . . .”
Just at that exact moment, a deer stuck his head, antlers and all, through an open window.
Little girls scattered in every direction, screaming at the top of their lungs. One threw up, others cried and one wet her pants. One girl said “damn,” but no one corrected her. The deer also frightened the counselors. It no doubt smelled the food and came to investigate. The commotion scared the poor thing and it ran away. We didn’t hear the end of the story.
Camp Director Jane came running from Central with Doc close behind, to see what caused all the screaming. They helped the counselors clean up the mess and get everyone to bed. Tucked in and feeling secure, the four in our cabin slept with the shutters closed and fastened, even though the night felt uncomfortably hot.
CHAPTER TWO
Nursing School First Assignment – Emergency Room
On my first day as an RN, “real nurse,” I looked forward to my duty assignment as part of the triage team in the emergency room. An oil well explosion and fire early that morning in a nearby town put the hospital on alert. The first man brought in, Mr. Albert Cummings, became my patient. Burned over 85% of his body, doctor did not expect him to live long. Mr. Cummings asked that I hold him and pray with him until his wife and son could get there. He felt little pain. Serious burns destroy the nerve endings. If touched, his skin came off so we wrapped him in moist sheets. I knelt beside the gurney, held Albert, prayed with him, and sang hymns for him until his family arrived. His wife, nine-year-old son, Mother, Father, and his only sister came. They stayed with him until he died. Most important of all, he told his son good-by. Albert gave his son instructions to remember, in an authoritative but tender voice, most of which I wrote in my journal that night. He told his son not to feel responsibility for the household and his mother, to enjoy being a boy. He should help his mother but let her provide for them. Albert was a very wise man.
Most advice given by fathers or other family members in the 1950s said things like, you are the man of the house now, and it is up to you to take my place. As my patient died, he smiled at his family and softly said, “I am going to be with Jesus now. I will see you again.” Albert Cummings, a part of my life for less than three hours, remains one of my most respected heroes. Death is a part of medicine one accepts but never gets used to. We worked and studied diligently, and some patients we lost, but most we saved, and this is our blessing. I enjoyed my training.
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