The Icelandic Canadian - 01.12.1961, Qupperneq 57

THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
55
I was destined to be confined to my
bed for a longer period than was at
first expected.
The days seemed very long and un-
eventful, despite my contact with fel-
low patients and nurses and the doc-
tor.
Shortly after my arrival at the San,
my former roommate arrived, as a
patient. When I was taken ill, she did
not dare but subbmit to an examina-
tion. The swelling in her neck-glands
proved to be a more serious matter
than was at first believed. She no
longer feared my presence, and, as we
had found each other congenial, she
often visited with me.
The San was efficiently operated.
The Superintendent kept close tab on
everything, and he was deeply concern-
ed for the welfare of the patients. No
longer was I required to go downstairs
for an examination; the doctor came
to my bedside for this.
“What response is there to the bell
on this ward?” he asked suddenly, after
an examination.
I showed that I had failed to get the
significance of his question.
“Well, then! How often do you have
to ring?” he said, twisting the point
of his fair mustache.
“Sometimes once; sometimes more
often”, I replied. “I have no com-
plaint to make.”
He walked briskly to the bell, and
rang it. At the same time he consulted
his watch. Then he strode to and fro,
watch in hand. When there was no re-
sponse, he rang again, longer than be-
fore. This was repeated five times,
with the sound of the bell echoing
through the rooms, and each time he
strode back and forth, watch in hand.
Each time his stride lengthened, until
it seemed that he crossed the room
in two or three steps.
At last the door opened. The nurse
stood in the doorway. She was tall,
erect, and fair-haired, and her face was
long and pale. Her piercing grey-blue
eyes looked cold and she regarded the
doctor steadily. Her thin lips moved
only a little as she said forcefully.
“What’s going on here?”
I shall never forget the change that
took place in the doctor’s expression.
It had been serious, even stern. Now
there was a peculiar gleam in his eye
and a teasing smile played on his lips.
“Well, now. I wanted to know what
response there is to this bell. I rang
five times, at two minute intervals.
Suppose this had been very urgent.”
“The student nurse is in the next
room. I was upstairs, doing my work.”
The nurse’s voice expressed annoy-
ance. Obviously she was offended. Her
pale face turned brick-red and the
blush spread to her throat. She seemed
to grow taller, as she bridled, and she
faced the doctor boldly.
“The student nurse”, the doctor re-
peated. I still remember the emphasis
he placed on those words. “The student
nurse”, he repeated again, as if the
nurse had expressed some arrant none-
sense.
“Well, now. You mean Miss V. But
don’t you know, Nurse, that the sound
carries much better up the open stair-
way than into the next room?”
The nurse turned away, without a
word, but as she turned she shot me
a look which said unmistakably:
“It was you who caused this.”
This same nurse was at the San dur-
ing my entire stay there. She was strict,
but she was honorable and devoted to
her duty. We became well acquainted,
but this incident was never mentioned
by either one of us.
The San was the largest building I
had seen. I called it the White Man-
sion. It was white, outside and in. The
beds, tables, and chairs were white.