Through the Years: Memoirs of a Nursing Career

By Ruth James Krise

When author Ruth James Krise was accepted into the nursing class at Nesbitt Memorial Hospital in Kingston, Pennsylvania, in September of 1953, she was the oldest of the lot. Her greatest hope was to simply survive and graduate.

In Through the Years, Krise narrates her story, telling how she graduated from nursing school in 1956 and began her career at one of the largest hospitals in Newark, New Jersey. In this memoir, she shares details from her personal and professional life. Krise traveled and worked in several states and in many fields. Known for her humor and work ethic, she excelled in her profession.

Through the Years chronicles how a young girl, looking for love and a meaningful life chose a vocation that took her to various underdeveloped countries where, with other medical volunteers, she was part of a team providing surgical care. Independent and free spirited, her career spanned fifty years and saw many changes in the medical arena.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jun 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781663214584

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Copyright © 2021 Ruth James Krise.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN: 978-1-6632-1457-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6632-1458-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021911865

iUniverse rev. date:  06/14/2021

Contents

Dedication

Introduction

Special recognition to:

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2

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5

Dedication

To Lauren Catherine Krise, whom I love with all my heart

May your life be filled with curiosity, wonder, love and happiness

Introduction

Monday’s child is fair of face,

Tuesday’s child is full of grace

Wednesday’s child is full of woe

Thursday’s child has far to go

Friday’s child is loving and giving

Saturday’s child works hard for a living

But the child that is born on the Sabbath day

Is fair and wise an good and gay.

I am Thursday’s child

Special recognition to:

Mollie Beard Back ———we were highschool friends.  We’ll always be the Gems

Karen Kohler Witmer ———a good friend, you were always there for me

Carol Corinchock Tallick ———a very special lady friend, your friendship, thoughtfulness and generosity hold a special place in my heart

Deborah Petrillo, Shawn and Maura Thomas, Callaigh Robinson and family ———————we’re so happy you came into our lives

1

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Cotton-candy clouds drifted across a blue sky on a balmy day in June 1951. It was graduation day, and the senior class of GAR Memorial High School prepared to take their places in the world. Excitement and laughter filled the hall as we gathered to parade to the stage and receive our diplomas. We did not wear robes and cardboard caps (these were reserved for colleges and universities only), but we were dressed for the occasion, with the girls in dresses of our school colors—blue and gray or white—and the boys in their Sunday-best suits.

The strains of Pomp and Circumstance filled the assembly, and we smiled and waved as we walked down the aisles. Parents, family, and friends were all there in the audience, and tears, cheers, and sighs of relief were observed. We all gathered outside after the ceremony to say goodbye and wish everyone well as we all contemplated our futures. Most of us had been together for twelve years and had formed strong friendships. Everyone had plans—some going into the military, some off to college, some planning weddings, and some looking forward to a new job. Well, almost everyone.

I had no thoughts about the future. I had no plans, no aspirations, no dreams, and no ambitions. I tended to live in the present, and right now, that consisted of sleeping late and lolling about.

By the end of the third week, however, my mother insisted I find a job. Hmm, I hadn’t a clue what to do. Luckily, the boy down the street, Charlie, told me about an opening in the clothing store where he was employed.

Charlie was a classmate and happened to be the very first boy I had ever kissed. At a teenage party, we had all sat in a circle and played spin the bottle. Charlie’s bottle pointed at me, and as he bent to kiss me, our heads clunked, his buck teeth scraped mine, and he bit my lip. Yuck, I was never going to do that again!

Off I went to be hired as a cashier in the men’s department of an upscale department store. The men’s department took up the entire second floor and employed five salesmen, a tailor, and a manager.

I was the only female employed in the department and was treated with respect, kindness, and a certain fondness. As I looked around at these friendly faces, I thought to myself that this was going to be all right. I was Queen of the Hill!

As a cashier, I was good at my job, frequently helping with other things—sorting clothes and gift-wrapping purchases, everything from shirts and ties to umbrellas and overcoats.

Soon, I began to date Angie, the handsome Italian salesman. We would go out for lunch and on some evenings would go for a drive in his sporty Buick and have dinner at, of course, a fine Italian restaurant. Life was good. I was frugal with my money and managed to pay room and board to my parents and save the rest.

After two years, however, the job lacked challenges, and my romance had faded. I began to think seriously about my future. Dad had always told me to enjoy my vacation because I probably would have to work hard for the rest of my life. Well, anyone could ring up a cash register, and I did not relish doing that for the rest of my life.

College was out of the question, as I was the middle of five children, and my parents could not afford tuition. Besides, it would take four years to get a degree. Time was a big consideration for me, as I was in a hurry to get on with my life. Another option was nursing school, which I could accomplish in only three years. Somehow, I knew there would always be a need for nurses, and therefore I would always be able to support myself. I wasn’t exactly enthused about this decision, never having played nurse to dolls or bandaged the dog, and I wasn’t too keen to be around sick people. But I resolved to carry through with plan B and do my best to have a career.

It was the autumn of 1953, and my life was an open book. The hopes and aspirations of youth remained, although I was in my early twenties. The Korean War, often called the Forgotten War, had just ended in July. More than thirty-six thousand American soldiers were dead, and millions of civilians on both sides of the so-called police action were dead as well. I remembered World War II as a young girl, collecting paper and aluminum and buying war savings stamps for ten cents. There were small flags in every window, with a blue star for those who served and a gold star for those who had been killed. It was a depressing time, and I’d thought that the war would never end. Now, with this latest bloodbath apparently over with the signing of an armistice, it seemed that lasting peace might be on the horizon. Or so most of us hoped at the time. Vietnam wasn’t yet on the radar, but it soon would be.

I wanted to explore the world and dreamed of going to Philadelphia. Growing up in Wilkes-Barre, a mining town, and having been influenced by books and movies, I wanted to travel to other places. But funds were not available, and so I applied and was accepted into the nursing class at Nesbitt Memorial Hospital in Kingston, Pennsylvania. Kingston was across the river some five miles from Wilkes-Barre, which was about as far as I could go with my savings. I was able to pay my own tuition, and in September 1953, the journey began.

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The new group of students gathered together for orientation, each of us eyeing one another to see who would become friends. All the other girls had just finished high school and were eager to continue their education. I was the oldest of the lot because of my two-year stint as a cashier, and my greatest hope was simply to survive and graduate! Four of us quickly bonded and, being like-minded, decided to short-sheet the bed of one of our classmates. We were caught, reprimanded, and grounded for a week. Well, I thought, this was going to be a long three years!

Rooms were assigned, and our uniforms were dispensed. Blue-and-white pinstriped cotton dresses, over which we wore white pinafores, cuffs, and collars. The cuffs and collars were starched so stiffly that they could stand by themselves. Tissues could be seen around the collars to prevent the chafing of necks. White shoes, stockings, and a white starched cap completed our outfits, along with a blue wool cape to wear in winter. The white caps were to be worn directly on top of our heads, which, to some of us, looked ridiculous, so we’d place them farther back. Of course, this meant we frequently were called in to