The  RURAL  NEW-YORKER 
513 
In  the  Hospital :  Suggestions  for  the  Home 
When  I  was  partly  out  from  the  influ¬ 
ence  of  ether  at  the  hospital.  I  recognized 
my  wife  standing  at  my  side,  and  asked 
her,  so  it  is  reported,  if  she  was  engaged 
for  the  next  dance.  On  oeing  assured  that 
she  was  not,  I  slowly  said :  “Please  re¬ 
serve  it  for  me,”  and  returned  to  my 
slumber — 'though  I  had  not  danced  in  10 
years,  not  since  the  newfangles  came  in 
and  made  my  dancing  observed  rather 
than  admired. 
I  was  not  delirious,  as  the  nurse 
thought.  I  knew  very  well  where  I  had 
been  and  what  had  happened  ;  but  feeling- 
then  no  discomfort  and  recalling  none, 
wanted  to  say  something  agreeable  to  so 
pleasant  an  occasion.  But  later,  when 
fully  “out,”  my  personal  affairs  were  suf¬ 
ficiently  diverting  to  make  me  indifferent 
for  a  week  to  all  ways  of  the  world — my 
latest  engagement  I  should  never  have 
recalled  had  it  not  been  mentioned  to  me 
a  week  later.  Then  followed  another 
week  in  which  day  dreams  mainly  meas¬ 
ured  my  mental  activities.  I  did  not  care 
even  to*  be  read  to,  and  that  is  pretty  bad. 
Being  a  “flat.”  the  ceiling  was  for  a  time 
my  natural  field  for  entertainment.  But 
hospital  architects  with  their  plain,  rest¬ 
ful  walls  seem  indifferent  in  such  mat¬ 
ters.  So  I  would  shut  my  eyes  and  soon 
see  recurring  far-away  things,  the  most 
persistent  being  a  beautiful  shaded  garden 
in  China,  with  a  few  kindly  high-class 
Chinamen,  whose  conversation  I  seemed 
to  understand,  though  I  had  never  been 
in  China. 
One  day  I  gazed  through  the  wide  doors 
opening  on  a  little  balcony  near  my  bed. 
After  that  I  went  no  more  to  China. 
Not  far  away,  the  whole  space  was  filled 
with  a  mass  of  great  eucalyptus  trees. 
Beyond  were  white  clouds,  and  then  the 
blue  skv  that  I  could  fill  in  as  I  liked,  and 
did.  But  no  honest  man  not  an  astronomer 
can  pretend  to  dwell  long  among  the  stars. 
So  I  soon  left  that  cold  region  and  came 
back  to  the  white  clouds,  and  floated 
down  to  the  places  of  men,  to  the  country¬ 
side,  where  I  saw  the  wide  prairie,  and 
again  warm,  soft  earth,  newly  plowed, 
voung  corn  and  apple  orchards  in  bloom. 
There’s  where  my  heart  belongs,  and  I 
often  went  there,  choosing  a  new  region 
each  time.  I  saw  men  with  their  teams 
in  the  field,  and  housewives  about  their 
work,  but  I  never  talked  with  any  of 
them.  One  day  the  sad  thought  occurred 
to  me :  What  if  there  should  be  serious 
sickness  on  these  farms  so  far  away  from 
hospitals?  From  that  time  on  I  was 
alive  to  all  the  hospital  business  about 
me  to  see  how  much  of  it  might  reason¬ 
ably  be  put  into  use  in  the  country.  Much 
to  mv  surprise,  most  of  it  can  be. 
Now  The  R.  N.-Y.  has  given  me  space 
in  which  to  tell  of  it  for  the  sake  of  the 
thousand  homes  where  it  goes  where 
there  is  this  day  great  illness,  and  the 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  such  homes 
where  there  will  be.  While  I  write  for 
the  country,  it  is  my  very  positive  impres¬ 
sion  that  in  one-half  of  all  town  houses 
some  of  these  suggestions  may  well  find 
place.  Lest  it  be  thought  by  the  country 
people  to  whom  I  appeal  that  here  is 
another  rural  uplifter  from  town,  let  me 
say  that  while  it  cannot  be  denied  I  once 
was  a  townsman,  I  am  and  have  been  for 
many  years  a  farmer  and  nothing  else. 
When  Ward  McAllister  wrote  his  fa¬ 
mous  and  unimportant  book  on  upper- 
crust  manners  in  New  York,  he  gave  it 
the  title.  “Society  as  I  Have  Found  It.” 
So  I  will  state  the  hospital  practice  sim¬ 
ply  as  I  found  it,  with  little  preachment, 
that  each  housewife  may  apply  much  or 
little  of  it  as  circumstances  dictate — and 
I  well  know  that  with  some  it  will  not 
be  needed  at  all. 
When  you  enter  the  great  hospital  as 
a  patient  its  mystery  disappears.  You 
find  that  apart  from  the  little  corner  de¬ 
voted  to  the  wonders  of  modern  surgery 
and  another  to  the  dispensary,  it  nearly 
all  comes  down  to  good  housekeeping  for 
the  sick,  and  that  marked  with  great 
simplicity. 
Asepsis  is,  no  doubt,  the  foundation 
stone  of  good  hospital  management.  Clean¬ 
liness  stamps  everything.  The  plain  walls 
bare  floors  (so  easily  kept  clean),  the 
white  beds  and  the  nurses  in  wash  dresses 
not  only  make  for  healthful  conditions, 
but  are  very  convincing  to  the  patient. 
One  of  the  first  things  to  arrest  my 
attention  was  the  “surgical  gown.”  It 
might  as  well  be  called  hospital  gown, 
since  every  patient  wears  one.  I  had  seen 
them  before,  but,  of  course,  never  expected 
to  have  close  acquaintance.  It  is  really 
not  a  gown  at  all,  but  a  glorified  shirt 
about  a  yard  deep  and  as  wide,  of  soft 
white  cotton  with  straight  half  sleeves 
and  an  imitation  collar  sewed  down  flat 
across  the  front,  the  gown  opening  in  the 
back  and  tied  at  the  back  of  the  neck 
and  at  another  point  on  the  shoulders. 
When  the  cherubim  floating  about  the 
hospital  in  nurses’  raiment  had  adjusted 
mine,  I  remarked  that  it  was  a  brave 
man,  or  more  likely  woman,  who  invented 
the  thing  and  believed  it  would  work. 
They  do  work.  The  patient  wears  noth¬ 
ing  else,  with  freedom  from  pajama  bands 
that  are  too  loose  or  too  tight,  or,  worse 
yet,  night  dresses  that  swirl  around  one 
like  the  skirts  or  a  dancing  dervish.  They 
are  so  fine  that  when  I  came  home  for 
convalescence  there  was  no  peace  till  1 
was  provided  with  some  surgical  gowns. 
If  sanitation  is  a  principle  with  hos¬ 
pitals,  fresh  air  is  a  habit.  And  here. 
oh.  my  sisters  of  the  country — forgive  me — 
is  your  weak  point.  I  know  that  I  am 
now  on  thin  ice.  I  hear  a  lovely  matron 
say :  “Don’t  mind  him  on  fresh  air ;  he 
is  from  Southern  California,  where  they 
are  glad  to  have  the  doors  and  windows 
open  the  year  round.”  But  when"  I  was 
in  the  hospital,  in  the  Spring,  it  was  so 
cold  at  night  that  the  nurses  then  wore 
sweaters  to  keep  warm.  Anyway.  Cali¬ 
fornia  just  happened  for  me;  my  life  has 
been  spent  not  where  the  eucalyptus 
grows,  but  where  the  snow  lies  deep  in 
Winter  and  where  the  Crocuses  peep  out 
to  delight  us  in  the  Spring. 
Let  us  see  how  it  was.  I  was  in  a 
small  ward  on  the  second  floor — in  a 
ward  for  two  reasons.  The  first  will  be 
obvious  to  all  farmers  of  the  class  of 
1920,  while  this  sufficient  reason  was 
tempered  with  another — my  downright 
liking  for  “folks.”  Our  pleasant  ward 
had  on  three  sides  double  doors  opening 
on  balconies.  The  agencies  for  heat  and 
ventilation  five.  First,  fresh  air ;  all  of 
the  balcony  doors  are  left  open  all  the 
time,  save  for  an  hour  or  two  at  “getting- 
up”  time.  Second,  if  the  patient  feels 
the  draft,  a  large  screen  is  placed  at  his 
bed  to  protect  him,  and  the  doors  still 
left  open.  Third,  a  hot-water  bottle  is 
often  placed  at  his  feet — great  is  the  hot- 
water  bottle ! — and  the  door  still  left 
open.  Fourth,  if  the  patient  is  still  cold, 
more  blankets  are  drawn  up.  and  the 
doors  left  open.  The  blankets  are  ar¬ 
ranged  at  his  side  at  night,  so  the  patient 
may  himself  easily  draw  them.  Fifth,  on 
chilly  days  artificial  heat  is  added,  and 
the  doors  still  left  open. 
The  screens  are  such  as  any  carpenter 
can  quickly  make,  about  3  ft.  wide  and 
twice  as  high,  of  white  pine,  varnished, 
the  center  being  simply  white  muslin, 
strung  on  moveable  brass  rods  at  top 
and  bottom.  Two  or  three  of  these  screens 
are  hinged  together,  a  single  section  being 
given  flat  feet  a  foot  long,  set  crosswise. 
These  feet  are  worth  while,  since  with 
them  the  screen  may  be  straightened  out 
at  any  place.  These  screens  are  really  at¬ 
tractive. 
I  must  not  forget  to  mention  the  small 
white  table,  with  drawer  and  low  shelf 
at  the  head  of  each  bed.  These  tables  are 
just  the  height  of  the  bed,  which  adds 
much  to  their  convenience.  For  one  thing, 
it  enables  the  patient  often  to  help  him¬ 
self.  and  that  of  itself  is  a  curative. 
Though  I  never  saw  the  bottom  of  my 
little  drawer.  I  knew  its  geography  per¬ 
fectly,  and  where  each  treasure  lay. 
In  the  hospital  it  is  the  good  practice 
that  everyone  does  what  he  can,  thus  re¬ 
lieving  the  nurse’s  time  for  the  more 
needy.  When  at  the  end  of  a  week  my 
two  special  nurses  left,  I  had  a  revela¬ 
tion.  The  next  morning  a  regular  nurse 
came  in  with  a  cheery  “good  morning,” 
and  left  on  my  table  a’  wash  dish,  towels, 
etc.  Nothing  had  been  said  about  this, 
but  I  understood  the  intimation.  No 
doubt  I  could  myself  wash  my  hands  and 
face,  but  the  idea !  Shortly  the  bright 
angel  returned  and  asked  so  kindly  if  she 
should  help  me  wash.  No.  I  thought  I 
could  do  it  myself,  and  I  did.  In  another 
day  I  enjoyed  it.  I  liked  especially  to 
feed  myself,  lying  on  my  side  with  my 
head  but  slightly  raised.  Bed  tables  are 
used  for  those  who  sit  up,  but  for  me  the 
little  table  is  drawn  down  past  the  pil¬ 
lows  and  the  large  tray  rested  partly  on 
that  and  partly  on  the  bed.  All  liquid 
food,  including  soups,  is  taken  through 
glass  tubes  by  those  who  do  not  sit  up. 
so  much  more  conveniently  than  from 
spoons. 
In  the  matter  of  cooking  for  the  sick, 
the  average  hospital  has  little  on  that  of 
the  average  farmer’s  wife,  save  that 
greater  variety  is  available  in  the  city. 
In  this  respect  I  will  only  suggest  that 
in  the  country  effort  should  be  made  to 
include  a  larger  variety  of  thin  soups, 
mostly  with  a  milk  basis.  These  are 
within  reach,  are  wholesome  and  very 
palatable  to  the  sick.  I  refer  to  what  is 
called  light  diet  in  the  hospital,  and  not 
the  very  special  diet  that  the  doctor  will 
prescribe  in  some  cases. 
Good  cheer  is  a  dominant  note  at  the 
hospital — in  the  house  of  suffering,  inter¬ 
rupted  plans,  disappointed  hopes!  Think 
of  that,  oh  man  in  health  and  prosperity 
with  a  grouch!  Cheerfulness  is  a  con¬ 
tagion  that  spreads  from  the  nurses — 
weary  though  they  must  often  be — and  it 
eq^ijy  touches  the  patients.  Mr.  Grumpy 
comes  into  the  ward  and  leaves  his 
grumps  behind,  or  soon  hides  them, 
ashamed  to  have  them  found  in  so  good 
company. 
Care  will  kill  a  cat.  we  have  been  well 
assured,  and  beyond  a  doubt  it  has  killed 
millions  of  human  beings.  Here  is  where 
the  hospital  does  a  part  of  its  good  work. 
It  banishes  care.  Ten  thousand  women 
and  some  men  would  testify  that  it  is  so. 
Is  there  not  here  a  suggestion  for  the 
sickroom  outside  the  hospital? 
The  draw  sheet  is  a  good  thing.  An 
ordinary  sheet  folded  lengthwise  will  an¬ 
swer.  It  is  drawn  as  tightly  as  possible 
across  the  middle  of  the  bed  above  the 
under  sheet  and  tucked  in  at  each  side. 
This  sheet  gives  a  very  smooth  bed,  gets 
more  use  and  is  changed  more  often  than 
the  other  sheets. 
I  must  mention  the  bed  pan  and  the 
bed  urinal.  They  are  so  absolute  necessi¬ 
ties  in  the  sickroom  that  they  should  be 
.  (Continued  on  page  515.) 
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