“Not so bad.” Koesler wrapped both hands around the coffee mug. He wondered if this cafeteria ever became comfortably warm. “It kind of wears on you, though. I mean, this unremitting dealing with the sick and dying. I can see how you could burn out in this work.”
“Oh, it’s not as bad as all that. You get used to it. If you didn’t, I’d have been in the loony bin long ago, in nomine Domini. Part of the saving grace is that far more often than not, the patients are happy to see you. After all, you’re not going to plug another tube in them or take any more blood from them. If for no other reason, you are a pretty welcome sight. You just haven’t given yourself enough time.”
“Time. That’s what you’ve given. Lots of time in hospitals. Lots of time in this hospital.”
“Lordy, yes.” The hint of a smile crossed her face.
“The memories you must have!”
“The memories. Oh, yes, the memories. Funny thing, as the years go by, the memories of the distant past grow clearer. But I have some trouble remembering what happened yesterday.”
“Tell me some of them, Sister.”
“Oh, they’re not all that interesting.”
“Try me.” Koesler genuinely loved stories of the past from those who had lived them.
“Silly. Well, I remember all the way back to my first day on the job. I was only a novice then. Hadn’t been in the convent little more than a year. But they put you to work in a jiffy back then.
“Well, I was assigned to give baths. And I tell you, the only thing that got me out on the floor with a basin and cloth was the vow of holy obedience. Lordy, I was embarrassed! I’d never seen an unclothed man before, let alone touched one. And, as it happened, my first patient was a hirsute creature, a bear of a man. He had hair on his chest like a shag rug.
“Well, I can’t tell you how nervous I was. The only way I could get through it was to concentrate on not spilling the water basin. But in the process, I put so much soap on the poor man’s chest that it got all matted in his hair. And this was long before there was a water faucet in each room. I had to go all the way down the hallway to get water. I think I spent most of that day getting water and coming back to try and get the soap out of his chest hair.”
Koesler was laughing.
“I suppose the only good thing to come out of that, as far as me and my innocence were concerned, was that I never got beyond the man’s chest.”
“That was nice of God to protect your modesty.” Koesler smiled. “More.”
“I think about this sort of thing from time to time. But you know, most of the things we find funny now were not at all funny when they happened. For instance, I recall a time when the nurses had to provide most of the equipment they used. Very little of it was supplied by the hospital.”
“I didn’t know that. That must have been a terrible burden for the nurses. They don’t make all that much even now. They must have made considerably less years ago. And then to have to buy equipment!”
“Yes. And—you may find this hard to believe—but back in those days most of the nurses used to sharpen their hypodermic needles by scraping them across the terrazzo floor.”
Koesler winced as he smiled. “Nothing like giving the patients something genuine to complain about.”
“As I was saying, it sounds odd and a bit humorous now. But back then it was pretty grim. Dreadful for the nurses and frightful for the patients. But the poor girls simply were unable to buy new needles all the time.”
“And now in this plastic age, most everything is used once and then discarded.” He shook his head. “Tell me some more.”
“Oh, you’ve got better things to do than listen to an old biddy tell stories about long ago.”
“I will never have anything more important to do.”
“Well, I do remember a time—and not all that long ago—when the second floor of this building was reserved for black people. We called them Negroes then.”
“Segregated! St. Vincent’s was segregated?”
“Hard to believe, isn’t it? But it did happen. I don’t suppose there’s any way to remember a time when just about everything in this country was segregated. And it all seemed right and proper. We’ve had the civil rights movement with us now for so many years. But that’s the way it was. As far as I can remember, our black patients got the same kind of care and treatment as the whites, but they were all on the second floor.”
“Incredible.”
“But true.
“Sometimes a very light-skinned black patient would be assigned to one of the other floors on admittance. We never asked people their race, you know, just looked at them. That was enough in most cases. But visitors would come. And that light-complexioned person would get a lot of dark-complexioned visitors. Then, without anyone’s saying anything, the patient would be moved to the second floor.”
Koesler shook his head. “And now, it’s rare to find a white patient here. Sister, you know you really ought to write these things down, get them published. The present and the future need to know the past. You could just turn your memory on and record these marvelous anecdotes for the rest of us. And for those who will follow us.”
“In nomine Domini, who’s got time for that?”
“Well, you, for one. Now don’t be offended, but it’s no secret around here that you are more than eligible for retirement.”
Rosamunda’s countenance changed swiftly and dramatically. Koesler was aware that he had skated onto thin ice.
“I just want you to know,” he plunged ahead, “that I can understand your reluctance to go into retirement.” He paused, hoping she would contribute something. She did not. “I’m sure you have no fear that retirement will only lead to consequent death as it does for some people. I’m sure you are not afraid of death. It isn’t that, is it?”
Steely silence.
“I can remember when nuns did not retire. They died teaching school or nursing or whatever else they had been actively involved in. They didn’t retire unless they were physically unable to put one foot in front of the other.
“I can also remember—and so can you—when priests didn’t retire. They died giving absolution or hanging on until the end of Mass. It was a disgrace to retire.” The last was said with deliberation.
It did the trick. Koesler could see the sudden spark in Rosamunda’s eyes. That was it. She equated retirement with what it had been throughout most of her long career: disgrace. Was there some way he could dislodge her mental equating of retirement with disgrace? He waited to see if she would respond. Time passed. Though little more than a minute, it seemed much longer.
“Why are you doing this to me?” she said finally.
“Doing? I’m not doing anything to you, Sister. I’m trying to help you. That’s all.”
“It’s none of your affair. You have nothing to do with it. It’s between me and Eileen. And that’s bad enough. Eileen has all the power of the administration behind her. How can anyone expect me to fight all that and the rest of you too? It’s unfair. It’s just unfair!” Her lower lip trembled. It was as close as Koesler had come to seeing her break down and cry. It was about as close as anyone had come to that.
“Sister, I just called on one of your patients.”
“How—” Koesler broke in before she could finish the sentence—”dare you!”
“It was a mistake that called me there. Some nurse’s aide had noted that the patient had requested confession. So I called on her. Turned out she isn’t Catholic. It also turned out that she’s been here a couple of days and you haven’t called on her. She’s going for surgery tomorrow morning and it was even money you wouldn’t be seeing her before the operation.”