When the Aide left for lunch, my stomach dropped. She and the Aide from the ward directly across the hall went to the Dining Hall together, leaving me responsible for “sitting doors” with an honor patient. The doors of both units were propped open. I sat in the doorway of C-12; the honor patient sat in the doorway of C-11.
Eighty male patients. One honor patient and me.
His name was Fred – mild-mannered, pleasant, calm. When I met him earlier, he didn’t seem like a patient at all. He told me he helped the Aide by sorting and shelving clean pants and shirts from the hospital laundry on floor-to-ceiling shelves in the storage room. He also helped gather soiled laundry and assisted with the evening routine of showers, shaving, and getting patients settled for bed.
The hour passed without incident, but seemed to last forever.
By the time I walked to the Dining Hall for my own lunch, I was exhausted. The hospital was enormous – dozens of buildings connected by long, long hallways. Patients and staff could access nearly the entire facility without ever stepping outside. My parents had once occupied these same corridors, though under very different circumstances. In 1945, this had been Mayo General Hospital, an Army hospital. My father arrived by train at the depot on hospital grounds to be treated for injuries and then released from service. My mother worked there as a secretary. Their first meeting had taken place somewhere in these hallways.
In the Dining Hall, I spotted a few other college students. I envied the ones assigned to women’s wards – until I learned what had happened to a girl I knew from high school. A female patient had thrown her to the floor, ripped out a handful of her hair, and raked fingernails down her face. The girl resigned immediately after seeking medical treatment.
The Aide on C-11 explained that male patients, no matter how ill, retained a small measure of respect for female staff. Female patients did not.
I realized how wrong my assumptions had been.
It was considered prestigious to be hired as a Summer Worker at Research Hospital, but as I walked back through those long halls, I wondered whether I might have made a serious mistake in accepting this position.
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