xt79p843s72p https://nyx.uky.edu/dips/xt79p843s72p/data/mets.xml The Frontier Nursing Service, Inc. 1966 bulletins  English The Frontier Nursing Service, Inc. Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Frontier Nursing Service Quarterly Bulletins Frontier Nursing Service Quarterly Bulletin, Vol. 41, No. 3, Winter 1966 text Frontier Nursing Service Quarterly Bulletin, Vol. 41, No. 3, Winter 1966 1966 2014 true xt79p843s72p section xt79p843s72p VOLUME 4I WINTER, I966 NUMBER 3
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"Snow l1acl {allen, snow on snow"
Plzatogragzln by Phyllis Long

This issue of our Quarterly Bulletin i?
is dedicated to the memory of our old  
staff member, Gladys M. Peacock, and I
to our old courier, Fanny B. Mcllvain.
' K
Published at the end of each Quarter by the Frontier Nursing Service, Inc.
Lexington, Ky.
Subscription Price $1.00 a Year
Edit0r’s Office: \Vend0ve1·, Kentucky
Second class postage paid at Lexington, Ky. 40507
Send Form 3579 to Frontier Nursing Service, Wendovcr, Ky. 41775
Copyright, 1966, Frontier Nursing Service, Inc.

A Letter of Appreciation 28
A Two-Month Stay With FNS Roberta Erickson 27
An Ungrateful Patient Susan Cross 41
· Assignment in Peru Betty Ann Bradbury 43
li Believe Me, If All Those
 t Endearing Young Charms (Verse) Thomas Moore 2
{  Beyond the Mountains 45
Q Fanny B. Mcllvain (Illus.) 9
Field Notes 52
"From Every Mountain Side" Ardith M. Clair 12
Gladys M. Peacock (Illus.) 3
Nikki DeMaria A Photograph Inside Back Cover
Old Courier News 15
Old Staff News 29
Our Mail Bag 40
Sarah and Her Dolls (Illus.) Joan Fenton 25
The Mary Breckinridge Hospital H. E. B. 14
_ M A Naval Air Squadron . . . Modern M aturity 42
l    X, I’1l Miss . . . (Verse) Renona Van Essen 55
V Licking the Common Cold The Colonial Crier 49
Patient’s Comment 13
Readers Motoring Tales—133 The Countryman 44
Song of the Little Birds F. B. Meyer 11
The Way of Genius Mutual Moments 51
White Elephant 50

. Believe me, il all Ihose endearing young charms, `
Which I gaze on so Iondly Io-day.  
Were To change by Io-morrow, and Ilee’r in my arms, g l
Like {airy-gilfs Iading away,
Thou wouldsI s+ill be adored, as Ihis momen’r Ihou arf,
Le+ 'rhy loveliness Iade as if will, I
And around Ihe dear ruin each wish oI my hear’r
Would enIwine i’rseh° verclanIly s’rill.  
II is no+ while beaufy and you+h are Ihine own,  
And Ihy cheeks unproIaned by a Iear,  
Thai The Iervor and failh o‘l a soul can be known,  
To which Iime will bu’r make Ihee more dear;  
No. Ihe hearf +ha1· has Iruly loved never Iorgefs, I
Bu‘r as Iruly loves on Io The close.  
As Ihe sun-Ilower Turns on her god, when he se’rs,  
The same look which she Iurned when he rose.  
—THOMAS MOORE, 1779-1852  
we ii2¥¤`I¥SaZ"Y..$I0lI"$i IiI§°l.{I.'I£llI€$li;“X¥rIl$rPEISIE if E9JS`1`~IZl$°-&”I`$I  

Died December 28, 1965
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A Gay and gallant are words that fly 1nto one’s mind with
‘ * . . ,
memories of Gladys Peacock who played such a vital part 1n the
  early days of the FNS. She was born in London, England, and
  retained her British citizenship although she spent many years
  of her life away from the mother country. As a young girl she
Q left her family to study voice under a great master. This study
; was interrupted by World War I when Peacock became a licensed
mechanic and spent four years in France as an ambulance driver.
She was many times under enemy fire. Following the war, she
joined Miss Anne Morgan’s American Committee for Devastated

France. It was at this time that she first met Mrs. Mary Breck- A
inridge who was to have such an influence on her future career.
Peacock became vitally interested in Mrs. Breckinridge’s
plan for a nursing service in Kentucky, and in the early Twenties
came to America and entered the Army School of Nursing at
Walter Reed General Hospital. She graduated in 1925 and passed
her New York State Board examinations. In 1926 she returned
to England to take her training as a midwife so that she might  F
come to join Mrs. Breckinridge in her work in Kentucky. Her
organizing ability and her love for people played a vital part in ?
the early years of the FNS. She helped to build the first outpost
nursing centers and was appointed a midwifery supervisor and
assistant director of the FNS in 1930. She took a leave of absence
to study for her B. S. degree at Columbia University and during
the depression years worked on behalf of the FNS outside the
mountains. She did a considerable amount of public speaking
and took part in concert programs.
In 1939 Peacock again returned to help England in her war L
effort. This time she drove an American ambulance in London  
and helped to evacuate patients from hospitals during the bomb- gi
ings., During this time she wrote us, "The patients are all mag-
nificent. I certainly take off my hat every time to them—never
a complaint or grumble although some of them had only been in
hospital an hour from a previous bombing. If courage is all that
is needed to win this war, then the ‘East Enders’ have already
won it." Peacock later became an instructor and trained younger
drivers for the ambulances. In 1942 she transferred to the Wom- _
en’s Timber Corps in the British Ministry of Supply and quickly ,
became Commandant of the Corps. She organized a training ,.
school for forestry workers and allocated her girls to all parts N}
of England. After the war she served on the Control Commission —  ‘
for Germany with the rank of Lieutenant Colonel. She, with her F
staff, was responsible for the welfare of some two thousand mili-  
tary men and their families. In the late Forties she returned to  
live in New York where she soon found herself occupied with  
various community activities. {
We have only been able to record a few highlights of Pea-  
cock’s extraordinary career. We remember well the visit she paid  
to her beloved FNS in the summer of 1949. Even though she had l

fallen victim to her first heart attack before this visit, she still
retained her zest for life and her deep interest in everything going
on around her. Successive heart attacks slowed her down consid-
erably and Peacock turned to more sedentary occupations such as
starting a stamp collection. She left this world with merciful
swiftness in December of last year and we know how much she
will be missed by her host of friends in this country and overseas.
 ·` Among old papers at Wendover we found a story written
by Peacock while attending Columbia University and we print
? it here as a tribute to her valuable contribution to the FNS in its
early years.
Something told me that this was to be a busy day, but if
everything worked out according to schedule, all the things that
had to be done would be accomplished.
It was a bright, clear morning, and in spite of the heavy
snowfall the previous night, it promised to be a brisk, sunny day,
  with everything conducive to an enjoyable day in the saddle.
E Breakfast was over, and from the silence in the barn, the
l: bay mare had also managed to stow away her breakfast of oats,
corn and hay, and was ready for her morning’s grooming.
Grooming is a good start for a cold morning. You may start
by being cold, but at the end of fifteen minutes you have shed
every article of clothing down to your shirt and breeches.
The process of Betsy’s toilet being over, and her shoes
examined for ice nails, the saddle bags were slung over the saddle,
. and we were off for the day.
¤ My first call was only two miles away, through the twists and
.6} curves of a mountain top, encircling the whole edge of a small
l `_ peak. One had the feeling of being the only person in a little
y world of one’s own. You looked down to the valleys with the river
  twisting in and out, and in the far distance saw the smoke from
  the scattered log cabins, curling up between the crevices of the
  My patient was a seventeen-year-old girl. She was lying in
; bed with a five-day—old baby boy. A young lad, looking just a
  child himself, stood bashfully at the door.
  "Hello, Roy," I said, "how’s the son and heir ‘?"
  The boy blushed, then a broad grin spread all over his face

 6 mzonwimn Nunsmo smnvicn
as he said, "Hit sure is a feisty young ’un." He was right. It was  
a big, bouncing, beautiful baby. I
"Did you get the tin pan for him, Roy ?" I asked. ;
"Yeah! Hit’s settin’ on the table in yonder." ` p
Mary, the young mother, was attended to Hrst. Next came
a bath in the tin pan for the "feisty young ’un." The mother’s _
proud look of delight as she saw her baby splashing about in the ’
warm water was a pleasure to watch. With strict instructions ', 
for Mary not to get up, and what to do for the baby, I left the , 
cabin. The boy-father followed me to the gate. ~"
He hesitated, blushed, then shyly said, "You ’ns ’1l be back
tomorrow, won’t you? Mary, she don’t know much about babies
With a promise to return in the morning, I once more
mounted the waiting horse.  
Slipping down the hillside of the frozen ground we reached {
the creek bed. As we passed a little box house a voice hailed me,  
"Stop by a minute, will you ‘?"  
"Hello, Cindy, what’s the trouble ‘? Somebody sick ?" l
Cindy grabbing hold of a ten-year-old boy about to disappear
around the corner, said, "Jon, go hold the woman’s mar’ while
she comes in and sets awhile."
I told her I could not wait, as there were many more visits
to make, but if anybody was ill, I’d be glad to stop. It appeared
that Lucy, the fifteen-year-old daughter had a "sore neck." I
examined her throat, and found it very inflamed and swollen. I
painted her tonsils, leaving a small bottle of solution to continue
the treatment. I advised the mother to let the child have her W,
tonsils out at our next tonsil clinic. It took a lot of persuasion "°
to get her even to think about it, but I left with the understanding ‘_  
that she would "study on it." i I
There was still one more visit that must be done before lunch. Q ,
This was always a dreaded visit, as it meant opening six gates to  A
reach the house. As we approached the first field I saw a small g
figure, with shaggy black hair, and a pair of gleaming black eyes,  
glistening with excitement. The trace of pure Indian blood showed  
through every feature. `
"Well, Sammy Sizemore," I said, "what are you doing here ?"  

  Sammy’s eyes sparkled with delight, "I come to open the
  gates fer yer."
_ "Why, Sammy, how lovely. I hate opening these gates."
` "Yeah," said Sammy, "I knew you ’ns did, so when Ma said
I you was coming to see the least ’un I ran all the way here."
The gate was opened. Betsy and I rode through in fine style.
E In between the gates Sammy rode double on the back of my horse
. and we made the trip in quick time, Sammy giving me all the news
 E about the fence having blown down, the well getting choked up,
pg and how many times he had been possum hunting.
The "least ’un" having been attended to, I felt something
murmuring inside me that it was lunch time. I led Betsy up a
little branch until we came to a large fiat rock. Dismounting, I
tied the reins over her neck, loosened the saddle girth and led
her a little way off, where I knew she would nose about in the
  snow in the hopes of finding a twig that had pushed its way
5 through the snow, or gnaw at the barks of trees.
li Putting my rain coat on the rock, I made quick work of the
U sandwiches and hot contents of the thermos. My fingers kept
i rattling the paper covering of a package in my pocket. Smoking
is forbidden in uniform, but it always gave me a sense of satis-
faction just to feel them there.
We had to hurry. A big clinic was awaiting us at Possum
Bend School, and four more miles were ahead of us.
Upon reaching the school we were greeted with about fifty
mules hitched to fences, three wagons with mule teams and a
large crowd of people. Men, women, and children, from three-
months-old babies to grandparents, were gathered round the
W, schoolhouse door.
"° Three big boys rushed out, each_eager to hitch the "mar’."
{   The two that didn’t get the mare took a side of the saddle bags
C and led the way into the little white schoolhouse.
p The table was prepared with newspapers and the necessary
 .3 sterilizing of hypodermic syringes andneedles was soon accom-
g plished.
  One by one the mothers filed up to the table carrying their
j babies. Then followed the pre-school, school and adults. Alto-
i gether two hundred and fifty shots of typhoid and diphtheria
 I vaccine were given.

 8 Fiaonrrmn mmsine smzvicn  
The wagons were loaded up. Mules laden with whole families I
slowly moved away. With many cheery "good—byes," Betsy and Q
I made the last hour’s ride home in quick time. Some distance  
from the nursing center we were greeted with the distant sound  
of a neighing horse. Betsy’s stable companion was telling her to  
hurry. Corn, oats and hay were awaiting her.  
After an exchange of the day’s events with the other nurse ”i
over a little supper table drawn up close to a blazing log fire,  
I settled down to write up the records for the day. y
The blaze of the logs died down to red glowing embers. I  
was loathe to leave this atmosphere of warmth and comfort, but l
knew that bed was the best place to be. E
Was I dreaming? Or did I hear a noise outside? I sat up  
quickly, turned on the flashlight and looked at my watch. One Q
A dark unshaven face was at my window calling, "Hey
Woman, come quick, my woman is punishin’ mighty bad."
"Who’s that ?" I called out.
"It’s George Morgan." i
I quickly got the information I needed, and from it I knew  
that this would indeed have to be a "hurry" trip. Giving George A
the keys to the barn I told him to saddle my horse, and I would  
be out in a few minutes. Why do breeches always seem to grow  
buttons in the night ?  
In five minutes Betsy and I were leaving the mule and its
rider behind. It was only half an hour’s ride, but half an hour '
on a dark night, through ice frozen creeks, can seem like several L,
hours when every minute counts. A
Such stillness. Only the snap of the cracking ice and the I
metallic ring of the horse’s shoes on the rough rocks could be {i
heard. 7;
At last, in the distance, a faint light showed. It grew brighter  v_'
as we neared. I could see a figure in the doorway. By the heav-  l
ing flanks of my mare I knew she had put forth her best effort. I
I called out to the waiting figure. We were in time.  
Betsy had done her work. Mine was just beginning. I knew 3
that before "sunup" America would be the proud possessor of a  {
new citizen. p

[i Died February 11, 1966
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‘“ Fanny McIlvain first came to the Frontier Nursing Service
as a junior courier in the winter of 1935. She returned every
  year until 1944 when, with her own farm--and horses and dogs
·, to be bred and cared for-—she was unable to get down so fre-
1 quently. Over the years, she came whenever she could spare
the time.
. In those early days, the work of the Frontier Nursing Service
 ; was carried almost entirely on horseback. We had over thirty
` horses and frequently some of them were lame or sick. The couri-
ers were responsible for the care of the sick animals—horses,
Q cows and pigs-—for deciding who rode which horse, for escort-

 10 mzourxmn NURSING sxcavrcm i
ing guests and new staff members to outpost centers, as well as I
for planning their own daily schedule of comings and goings. It  
was nothing in those days for a courier to lead two horses from  
one center to the other; or, perhaps, to take a cow from Wendover ,
to a center. This wasn’t one of Fanny’s favorite pastimes, but l
she did it cheerfully and competently. ].
Fanny was tops. She knew her horses from A to Z. She had l`
the rare ability of being kind, patient, and firm with them under 4
any circumstances. The most diiiicult problem-horse responded 1
to her. All animals were her friends. She was not so fond of the ~»
geese we had then—Waddle and Splash! After she had been ll
down here a number of times, she began bringing with her Toto,  
her lovely German Shepherd dog. One day as they were walking  
between the buildings, Waddle——determined to protect Splash l`
who had a family of beautiful goslings-——dashed out, caught Toto ‘
by the tail and took a big "chunk" right out of it. Toto had to be
taken to the Wendover clinic for first—aid treatment and he was
so embarrassed by his bandaged tail that he withdrew for sev-
eral days. After that, Fanny and Waddle were not the best of
friends! A
Fanny gave herself completely to her work and to her  
friends. She was wonderful with the junior couriers, and not only g 
helped them with their courier problems but, while working with 1
them at the barn or accompanying them on a trip, would give  
them the over-all picture of the FNS——its purpose, its policies, and  
how it functioned in all of its departments. She made the younger g
couriers feel that they had a vital part to play in the work of the ,°
Service and she inspired in them the determination to carry their  
end as best they could. Fanny had a delightful sense of humor  
which saved many tense moments! For the yotmger girls asso- A
ciated with her, she set a marvelous example of hard work, high '!
standards and how to give and take in group living.
One cannot remember Fanny without thinking of all of the .,
sterling characteristics that were so much a part of her that Q
she could not have failed in any one of them had she wanted to-  
innate courtesy, kindness, sincerity, dependability, and loyalty.  ,
Fanny was deeply loved by her friends and greatly admired by  ll
all who knew her. Her gallant fight during her illness which was K
detected several years ago and flared up again this past Decem- R

I ber, was indicative of the courage she had throughout her life-
  time. Fanny’s most recent visit to Wendover was in November,
  1964, after she had recovered from her first operation. When we
K, asked her how she really felt, she invariably said, "I am §.ne."
It She laughed and joked about not being quite up to the arduous
it duties of a junior courier! She never once complained or admitted
I- that she had been through a rugged experience or that the future
_I was uncertain.
4 Our hearts go out in tender, loving sympathy to all of
__ Fanny’s family-—especially to Mrs. Mcllvain with whom she
if lived; and to her older brother with whom she had such good
I times. We, her FNS family, are cheered and comorted by the
  fact that she did not have to linger on too long after the suffer-
  ing became acute. We know that all she gave of her dear self as
I a courier remains with the Frontier Nursing Service which she
loved dearly and to which she devoted so much of her young life
—not only here in the field but as the Philadelphia Courier Chair-
man. We like to think that when she crossed over on Friday,
_ February 11, she received a royal welcome from Mrs. Breckin-
ridge, Jean, Jinny, Mac, Bucket, Willeford, and the many other
a friends who preceded her in death. Fanny lives on in our hearts.
  "Oh, the IittIe birds sang east. the little birds sang west;
  And I said. in under-breath,
  `AII our Iite is mixed with death!
iii And who I