xt7b5m626974 https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7b5m626974/data/mets.xml The Frontier Nursing Service, Inc. 1960 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. 35, No. 3, Winter 1960 text Frontier Nursing Service Quarterly Bulletin, Vol. 35, No. 3, Winter 1960 1960 2014 true xt7b5m626974 section xt7b5m626974 ..J
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Twin sons of Mr. and Mrs. W. A. Small, Jr., Tucson, Arizona
(Old Courier Susan Spencer)
Cover picture by Lucille Kncchtly i
Published Quarterly by the Frontier Nursing Service, Inc., Lexington, Ky. _ 
Subscription Price $1.00 a Year ,
Edit01·’s Office: Wendover, Kentucky Y
"Entcrcd as second class matter June 30, 1926, at the Post Office at Lexington, Ky.,  
under Act of March 3. l879." `
Copyright, 1960, Frontier Nursing Service, Inc. ; gi
l .

 nl ·
Beyond the Mountains 38
Cow Hunting (Illus.) Margaret Willson 12
° Editors Own Page 6
Field Notes 45
A   Hyden Hospital Chapel 36
1 I Saw Him Arrive! Maxine Fenstermaker 26
L Miss Agnes Lewis (Illus.) Grace A. Terrill 15
E Old Courier News 17
V Old Staff News 28
Our Mail Bag 35
Prayer of a Surgeon Guldeposts 2
Rex and Ranger Joyce Stephens 3
  Spring Forest Fires Ranger Joe Davis 16
  The Sea—Horse and His Babies (Illus.) Chela, Inside back cover
l Tradition at St. Luke’s Hospital
  School of Nursing, New York St. Lukels Alumnae Bulletin 7
Fresh Water From the Sea Frances P. Bolton 44
Just Jokes 14
j Living Centers Forward 37
  Midwinter I\/Iidwifery RN 47
J  Motoring Manners Postal Service News 37
R Perfect Man! 5
p White Elephant 27
ll ·

 2 FReNT1ER Nunsma snavxem  
Dear God! y  
These slreng gleved iingers  
Which l ilex ——  
This human hand  
Which helds ’rhe kniie, ij
Sierile new and sieady — { 
Need Thy guiding sl. Nuasmc smzvicn ~
and the new father who deftly tosses up the saddlebags, again  p
quietly telling his gratitude. A coon dog, from behind a bag of _,,
dairy feed, sleepily stretches awake, scratches, circles and sub-  
sides. The nurse mounts. The horse turns, unguided, and heads if
back to his barn, picking his way faultlessly among the sharp xi
rocks of the creek-bed———out across Hiram’s cornfield, where the  
dead stalks dance and rattle in the cold wind, through the river
ford-how knife-like against his slim legs the running water-
and up on the other bank. Could be he soliloquises—there, she’s
asleep again—wonder why nurses sometimes sleep when they .
ride at night ‘?—must go carefully from now on. Sure do reckon
that hay will eat real good. And so he pulls up at the barn door,
his tail tapering to a stalactite of ice—his fetlocks a fuzz of
frozen hairs. His dozing passenger rouses and dismounts.
Ranger, on the other hand, was a tall, upstanding, but
angular bay, 17 hands, with a comparatively large head, long
sloping shoulders and smallish hind quarters. He gave an impres-
sion of solidity and reliance as opposed to the more volatile and `
mischievous Rex. The extent of his reliability was brought home I
to me one bitterly cold night in late November. It was freezing
hard following a light fall of snow—an icy, moonless night. `
Burgie and his family lived in a very old windowless chink and
log cabin in a deep hollow of the hills, at the head of a branch
which climbed steeply up from the main creek for a good mile.
The faint trail winding tortuously among the bare beech trees,
high above the branch, was treacherous with ice.
Mary’s baby arrived safely. Ranger, being of a more tacti- `
turn nature than Rex, made no audible comment, but waited
patiently in the icy night. We headed for home about 2 a.m., with
myself appreciating more and more the point of my parable——my
iiashlight was failing rapidly and I had no spare batteries. For- it
tunately we made the steep trail down to the main creek without 5
mishap, then the feeble beam of light failed. It is quite stagger-  
ing just how much one depends upon light and landmarks. After
three years of daily riding those creeks and branches, all seemed 'p
alien in the blackness of night.
Ranger was unaffected and, with reins loose on his neck,
assumed full navigational rights. Steadily he went on down the l
creek, picking his way as the trail wound in and out of the water.  _

 , The occasional barking of a dog, or grunting of a disturbed pig,
_., alone proclaimed life in any other form. And yet, in some unfath—
  omable way, the wooded slopes rising sharply from the creek
I and the occasional cabin in a clearing could be felt, but not seen.
xl We made the mouth of the creek. Here the path crossed a very
  large rectangular patch of river bottom known as the Grocery
Field. Recently cleared of corn, it was now a flat expanse of black
nothingness, with the river slipping sinisterly by on two sides.
Having no fancy to wait for daylight I again put the onus
T on Ranger of either getting us home or piling us in the cold deeps
of the river. He rose to the occasion magnificently—cautiously
following his instinct, he crossed the void. The river whispered
menacingly away on the right. Suddenly we were climbing a ris-
ing piece of ground and once again the strange proximity of
trees could be felt. We had crossed the field! Next to locate
the ford in the river and scramble out at the proper place on the
other side. Down the slope, cautiously, went the great horse, ·
splashed through the water and across to the creek entering
` from the other side. Soon we were out and on to the dirt road.
' Back in the friendly familiar barn again—myself full of immense
` gratitude and admiration for Ranger and his dependability and,
shortly, he and Rex full of hay.
Hunting and show-jumping, in fact all the equestrian pur-
suits, admittedly call for deep appreciation of, and feeling for,
horses—but to be dependent upon them for your work, if that
be the case, or for help if you are in need, raises their status on
— to an infinitely higher plane.
Reprinted with permission from The Pony Club Book N o. 10,
published by The Naldrett Press at The Windmill Press,
Kingswood, Surrey, England.
_ Some eighty years ago, a young man from Virginia went
  down to the Southwest and started a newspaper. When he
reached middle life he wrote in an editorial as follows: "When
_ we left our native land of Virginia, we said that we would never
return, even for a visit, until we had become in every respect a
 _ perfect man. We are now returning?

 6 FRoN·1·1E1>. Nunsmo smwrcn  C
We call your special attention to "The Sea-Horse and His  
Babies" on the inside back cover page. You will note in the  Fd
drawing that the sea-horse swims upright with his neck arched,  “
his chest out, and his tail down. The head of this tiny sea crea-
ture is so horse-like as to be positively horsey. He reminds us, Q 
as lots of other fish do, that the paternal instinct is as primordial  ‘
as the maternal instinct. We are used to the habits of many birds  
where father and mother share responsibilities of feeding and  i
caring for the young. But fish are an older form of life than birds  
and often it is the father alone that cares for the young with no  
help at all from mother. This should make men and boys feel  .
terribly proud. i
We call your attention earnestly to the article called "Spring Q
Forest Fires" because spring will soon be here. Those of us who  I
are citizens of Clay and Leslie counties must seek to prevent -_
forest iires in 1960.
We have received word from the Army Engineers that we Y
will not have to evacuate the Frances Bolton Nursing Center at ·
Coniiuence before the end of March. We shall give a further  
report in our Spring Bulletin on all of this.
An old graduate of St. Luke’s Hospital School of Nursing ‘ Y 
(class of 1910) need offer no apology for the story about the i
Traditions of this School. We like to think that other schools of ~
nursing, besides the one we love so well, bring out the qualities i
of gratitude and compassion which should lie at the heart of  
every nurse. We need to recall these lines from the medieval Vi
Thcologic Germvmica:  2
"He who seeks his own highest good because it is his, ”
and for his own sake, will never find it."  

 I The Service from the Book of Common Prayer and hymns
 ` preceded the Presentation of the Class of 1959 (79 nurses) to
.  J. Steward Baker, Esq., President of the Hospital, by Miss Evelyn
f  M. Peck, R.N., M.A., Director, School of Nursing.
f Today it is my privilege to speak for the faculty and to the
.  class of 1959. In the past three years, you as individuals and as
 A a class have experienced many hours in the classroom and at
  the bedside of the patient to reach your goal of becoming a
 A graduate nurse. Members of the Board of Trustees, Administra-
. tors, Doctors, Graduates and students of St. Luke’s have come
  to this Cathedral with Bishop Boynton and our Chaplains, your
 _ families and friends to join together at this Baccalaureate service
‘ and commencement to show recognition of your achievement.
Y The profession you have selected, one of service to mankind,
is a never-ending learning experience, for as you go forward each
Y tomorrow brings with it untold promise. In the daily nursing
· care of patients you will build upon the basic principles that you
  have learned. You have had the freedom of choice, which is part
of our American heritage, and have chosen to serve. May you
{ ever be mindful, as you work from day to day, of the words
 , written upon the pin you wear: "To heal the body, to save the
I Mr. Baker, for the faculty, I present the class of 1959.
i JOHN A. TAYLOR, M.D., President of the Medical Board
· Once again it becomes my privilege and pleasure to address
j the Graduating Class of nurses at St. Luke’s. In behalf of the
J Medical Staff of St. Luke’s Hospital, I want to commend you
A upon the completion of a course that is both difficult and arduous.
{ I want to remind you that you have a tradition to uphold.
·`  St. Luke’s nurses have always been known for their personal
  integrity and devotion tothe care of the patient. The Postmaster

of a small town where I summer in Maine, who spent his life as  l
a sailor, was stricken on the streets of New York and was taken  
to St. Luke’s Hospital. He yearly sends a modest contribution  
because he told me that St. Luke’s is the only hospital in the
world in which he had been where the nurses had an interest wi
in his recovery.  
You have a good motto to live by inscribed upon your pin  ;
but I would like to give you another which is the motto of the  j
French Academy of Medicine, "To cure sometimes, to soothe  
often but to comfort always." We doctors, with your help, do not  
always affect a cure but we can always soothe and comfort the  
Your profession is one of the most noble vocations——the care  
of the sick—for this is one of the corporal works of mercy and  ”
this should be a comfort to you when the days are long and the  ‘
work is hard.  
So Hail and Farewell! In the years to come, I wish you  A
success which to each one of you will be the achievement of the
dreams of your youth. .
In the spirit of St. Luke’s and with your graduation in this  I
wonderful cathedral, I cannot close without saying, May God
bless you and your life’s work! ` J
b  .
President, The Northield Schools i
It is a privilege to extend congratulations to each member of if
today’s honored class for having achieved a notable goal in her =
life. At the same time, may all of us salute the Director and  
Staff of St. Luke’s School of Nursing for their achievement in l
guiding this class through the trials and joys of its training, to Q
this day of accomplishment. To graduates and staff, the simple  
accolade, "Well done!" ~
Some time ago, while planning for this occasion with you, l
I asked an elder statesman of the medical profession, a physician  V
who has long years of practice behind him, what should one say l
to nurses as they start out on their careers? His answer was  .
uncomplicated and brief: "Tell them not to be afraid to work ·

 l and to work hard, and to remember always that they are pro-
  fessional people dedicated to the service of others."
14 Such advice, to work to serve, does cut through to the heart
of the matter, not only for you, but for all of us. Yet your pro-
Y`? fession is peculiarly blessed to follow such advice for you are
  enviably equipped through your training to work directly and
  immediately in the service of others.
 .~ I now offer you two thoughts which I hope may assist you
 » in finding joy and satisfaction as you attend to your chosen
  career, as you work and serve.
  The first thought grows out of the mood of this special day
  in your lives. Haven’t most of you taken the opportunity to say
 “ "thank you" to a few of the individuals at the School of Nursing
 = who have guided and instructed you through your course? If
  you haven't done it, I urge you to do so before the day is over.
 ` For this act of expressing thanks, when done with sincerity
and imagination, is a key that can open up for you an under-
_ standing of life which has breadth and depth and considerable
R power for good. The act of expressing gratitude to one who has
` helped you during your training is more than good manners,
more than showing appreciation for the help of that person. It
 · is at the same time giving grateful recognition to an all-important
_ Y phenomenon of human relations—in this instance of it, the large
 p community of individuals and institutions whose faith and whose
 5 good, wise and charitable acts have made it possible for you to
  be where you are today and who you are today.
  Look at this community. It is made up, not only of your
¤ family and friends who have had faith in you and the staff of St.
  Luke’s which has trained you, but it includes the pioneers of
* nursing who dared establish your profession; the consecrated
Q women who brought it to its present eminence; the men and
  women who had the vision to found St. Luke’s Hospital; those
.r who have given it strength and leadership over the years; and
l the Church of Christ which has marked this entire enterprise
V with the words, "To the Glory of God." . . .
` H
 , When a young woman tells us she is planning to be a nurse,
— the first thought that usually comes to mind is that here is a

 10 FRoN·1·1mR mmsruc smzvicn  A
young woman who has a true desire to be helpful to others. In  
the thinking of the layman, the idea of nursing is always coupled A A
with the idea of concern for others. To many of us, no profession I
surpasses yours in providing direct means for helping people. R
What elements entered into your decision to be a nurse?  
Surely there were many, and since our culture emphasizes secu-  
rity and status, these must have played a part. But I am certain `
that no one of you could have conquered the rigors or success-
fully met the arduous demands of the training you have just  
completed if you were working solely for a good paying job and g
a respected position. 'It is certain that, at the beginning of your {
course and now, there was and is in each of you a desire to help  
people who need help. This desire—let us call it the grace of l
compassion, is the second thought I wish to discuss with you.
Compassion is the hall mark of your profession and to many
I of us it is its priceless ingredient. Because of the element of com- (
passion, a craft to practice becomes a profession to live.
But compassion, a merciful concern for others, is at the same
time an indispensable ingredient of all high human relations.
A little essay appeared in the New York Times not so long f
ago on the miraculous advances in medical research and care "
that have taken place in recent years. The point of the essay was
that these miraculous advances were made possible by the volun- ’
tary contributions of the American people rather than by tax _
money; furthermore, that this was one of the by-products of a 1
democracy; that "Americans care about one another; that we
are willing to support with hard cash this anxiety about our g
mutual welfare"; and that we still hold to the belief "that each "
man is, after all, his brother’s keeper."  
This ancient dictum, which does work miracles, is merely i
another way of describing the compassion that is basic to your ~\
profession. You, too, will work miracles through mercy.  
But let us move a step into the real meaning of compassion I4
in order that we may have a sounder grasp of what this grace pf
may do for us and others. Compassion is not merely doing good.  
The traditional Biblical story of compassion is the parable  Q
of the Good Samaritan in St. Luke’s Gospel. This familiar   p
parable is generally understood to teach true neighborliness as V
the Samaritan in .the story acts to help the man who was hurt  A

 l QUARTERLY Bunnmcrxu 11
li and in trouble, the unfortunate who was ignored by the Priest
  and the Levite. —
I A signihcant question for us is what moved the Samaritan,
among the three, to show compassion for the sufferer? Could it
  be that Our Lord chose the Samaritan as the one to show mercy
ll because the Samaritan was a person who was himself in trouble,
V who was also a sufferer, a victim, despised, an outcast? Could
it be that Jesus was teaching that compassion, true helpfulness,
> springs from us to others as we are aware of our own need for
{ help?
l The genius of the Christian understanding of the relation-
  ship between God and man, and between man and man, is right
l here. For remember that even the saint must utter the prayer
I of confession and ask for God’s mercy. Or perhaps he is saintly
because he humbly confesses his need for help to Almighty God.
. The impact of Christianity on the world is through such under-
standing. The love of God works miracles among men through
men who have found the love of God in their own need.
Consider this step into the meaning of the sign of your
, profession. The compassionate heart is the one that has felt its
Q` own need for compassion.
A Yes, you, too, will work miracles as instruments of mercy,
as your concern for others grows out of an awareness of your
J own need, a need we all share, for the merciful love of God.
. It is no coincidence that the Church of Christ has tradition-
V ally nurtured your profession. Without the Gospel of the Church
of Christ you as a nurse would be doing little more than playing
i_ a role, fulfilling a function in society. With it you may be touched
` by a grace that is not your own; healed and helped by the love of
  God, you may truly heal and help your neighbor.
l May this commencement day find in your hearts the grati-
  tude that makes life a blessing, and the compassion that stirs the
J hearts of the children of God.
_   The Blessing was given by the Suffragan Bishop of the Prot-
  estant Episcopal Church in New York. The closing hymn was
 g the one that begins:
  "O Master, let me walk with thee
V T In lowly paths of service free;"
_ 1 S t. Luke’s Alumnae Bulletin, Winter 1959

 iz Faomrxma mmsme smavrca
by M
MARGARET w1LLsoN, R.N., s.o.M.
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One evening in early September I had, much to the amuse-
ment of my colleague, cleaned my old brown shoes and was
pleased with the results of my labors. I happen to like to clean
shoes, but had rather lost heart at keeping them shining in the
dust and mud found in our corner of Kentucky at certain times
of the year.
I was relieving for a six-week period at the new Margaret
Durbin Harper Memorial Nursing Center on Wolf Creek. Exten- I
sive work on the new part of the house and building the new barn
was going on, and we still used the little house lent us by Floyd  
Cook for clinic and living quarters. However, Annie Gay, Wolf _
Creek’s maid, and I slept in the new house to night watch over p _
the piles of lumber and nails and numerous other articles used { ·_
in the reconstruction.  
On this particular evening Annie and I left the little house  ·
for the night and drove "Miss Nell" the half mile up the road to
our beds. Darkness was all about us and, as we drove up to the
front of the house, "Miss Nell’s" headlights picked up the shape R

 * of a horse grazing. One horse ‘?—my mistake, two horses. "Well,"
 < says I to Annie, "if the horses are out of the pasture, Quill must
xx be too." Quill is a beautiful cow, closely related, I am sure, to
the one in the nursery rhyme who jumped over the moon. Quill
. can find a way out of almost any place.
Annie and I leapt from the jeep and caught "Trigger" and
"Missy," the two horses, without much ado. We escorted them
gently by our leather belt bridles to the pasture. Then by flash-
light we toured Wolf Creek’s pasture in search of open gates or-
broken fences. Sure enough, there was one part of a rick rack
fence completely down. The only thing to do was to repair the
fence, so we started to pull and heave at the lumber spars and
slowly but surely our fence was repaired—except that I happened
to be on one side and Annie and the flashlight were on the other!
Dare I climb over? Would the fence hold my 140 pounds plus?
It was an awful long walk around and my shoes were sort of
clean. I took courage in both hands—plus the top spar of the
fence, and climbed gingerly over. Phew! I made it.
Next duty—to look for Quill. She could be anywhere. We
started to search, first the pasture, up hill and down dale, behind
rocks, under trees, but no Quill did we find. The only thing to
do was to extend our search further than the pasture, so off we
set, flashlight in hand, treading softly, our eyes down searching
for signs. We had an idea that our cow with the Wanderlust
would be in the corn patch near the little house down the creek.
So we headed in that direction, stopping in our tracks every now
and then to listen for a cud—chewing cow. Sure enough, there in
the midst of the corn was the huge hulk of Quill, iilling herself
< with lush, ripe corn on the cob. "Quill, come," called Annie,
"there’s a good Quill," but Quill continued to _munch steadily.
  I thought I might be able to put my belt through her halter but
. she would not cooperate. Instead she moved at a gentle amble
, _ out of the corn patch. All thoughts of my clean shoes had now
{ ·, vanished. My only idea was to get Quill back to the pasture and
I get me to bed. But Quill had different ideas. If she had to go
 A home, she wanted to go the way she had come, down the almost
but not quite dry creek. I had other plans, not wishing to get
my feet wet. I wanted Quill to go via the dirt road. Here and
I now a battle of wits commenced. I was determined, but so was

 14 Fnoiwzmn Nunsmo snnvxcm A
Quill. I plodded behind the dear cow with Annie a few feet away l
from me doing her best to talk Quill into seeing our point of view.  q
But all the cow did was to back up smartly so that I, backing K
up almost as smartly, stepped backwards off the path and somer- .
saulted down a bank, landing almost in the creek. Stunned for  
a moment only, I leapt to my feet, even more determined to win  l
the battle. Quill was shaken a little, I think, at the rapid disap- A
pearance of her sparring partner, and decided that perhaps the _
road was the easiest way to the pasture. Bless her bovine heart, _
she wandered slowly along the road, turned herself into the new,
partly built barn, and looked at Annie and me as if to say, "I’ve Q
had enough of sleeping out. I’m going to stay right here in this
nice new stall. You all can sleep where you like."  -
And we did. My poor shoes were a sorry sight-—covered
with a delicate shade of brown mud. But I wouldn’t have missed ‘
the "cow hunting"—or any other part of my Wolf Creek experi-
ences—for anything.  .
"Is Dan a confirmed bachelor ‘?" A
"He is now. He sent his photo to a Lonely Hearts Club and  
they sent it back with a note saying, ‘We’re not that lonely!’ "  V
A young man who had just received his degree from college i
rushed out and said, "Here I am, world, I have my A.B." · 
The world replied: "Sit down, son, and I’ll teach you the °
rest of the alphabet."
Superintendent: "For this job we want a responsible man." 3
Applicant: "That’s me. Wherever I have worked, if anything ,
went wrong, they told me that I was responsible."
"Lo0k here," said the businessman who was in need of a ,_
boy, "aren’t you the same boy who was in here a week ago '?" T
"Yes, sir," said the applicant. `
"I thought so. And didn’t I tell you then that I want an ,
older boy ?" V
"Yes, sir. That’s why I’m back. I’m older now." _.

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It was ten o’clock on the morning of Tuesday, January 21,
i when a little figure in a brown FNS uniform tripped gayly down
the steps from the second floor of the Garden House.
L All work ceased.
A It was Agnes Lewis, of course, stepping out of a picture of
yesterday into an amazed group of FNS staff members.
. Brown uniform? Yes, there are those still in the Service,
and some even out there beyond the mountains, who will remem-
ber the time when all secretarial staff members wore uniforms
 , just like those of our nurse-midwives, except of a different color.
" Though Agnes had not donned her uniform for over ten years,
‘_ the trim riding pants, the fitted coat over a white shirt, brown
Q. tie, and the highly polished knee-high brown laced boots, fitted
T her to perfection. Truly she was a model of models in showing
l how the FNS uniform should be worn—blue or brown. She