Remembering Doris

I submitted this essay to the Jersey City Medial Center School of Nursing Alumni Association Newsletter for the Fall publication. Limit: 500 words.

Remembering Doris Dolan

(December 31, 1926 – January 10, 2021)

Class of 1947

I met Doris back in 1965 when we both worked at Pollack Hospital in Jersey City. We became friends immediately. It was easy to like Doris: she was warm, gracious, non-judgmental, caring and a great nurse. 

Doris worked at the New Jersey College of Medicine and Dentistry’s Cardiac Cath lab at Pollack and moved with the College when they set up shop at Newark Hospital. She stayed with the Department of Cardiology until her retirement. 

Although I hadn’t seen Doris over the years, we exchanged Christmas cards. 

In 1994, my husband, Ernie, and I reunited with Doris and Bud at a wedding. The next few years, we, Doris and Bud and another couple, Mary Ann and Bill Owens, vacationed together. (Mary Ann worked with Doris at Pollack, too). “Bud and I always wonder why you include us old timers in your travels,” Doris would ask. We always had the same answer: “we enjoy your company.” 

The last time I spoke to Doris was before the Pandemic. She and Bud lived in a CCRC. She had had a couple of falls and suffered a subdural hematoma. Surgery released the pressure. She recovered well but had some short-term memory loss. 

Soon after that phone call, I was invited to speak at the JCMC Nursing Alumni Association at the Spring Luncheon in April 2020. I would talk about gerontological nursing: I was one of the first GNPs in the 1980s and wrote a book about my experiences: “Stories from the Tenth-Floor Clinic.” 

I planned to ask Doris to join me. 

What a great reunion it would be! 

But it never happened. 

The Spring conference was cancelled due to the pandemic. 

When I next called Doris, a caregiver answered the phone and told me that Doris couldn’t talk to me. Bud couldn’t articulate how Doris was doing. I called a few times after that—always told by the caregiver that Doris was either eating or napping. 

I wanted to thank Doris for sharing her “expert” cardiac knowledge from back in the 60s—the time frame of the nursing stories I had been writing for publication. She had mailed me reprints of studies and news clippings that filled the gaps in my memory. My essays were richer because of her input. 

I wanted to reminisce again about our talk at the Jug, a Greek restaurant not far from Pollack Hospital. I was 23 years old and afraid of marriage. I couldn’t decide to accept Ernie’s proposal. Doris was happily married to a loving, compatible husband. Thankfully, I listened to her. I think she felt delight for the longevity of my marriage. 

This past March, on a hunch, I looked up Doris’ name on Legacy.com. She had died on January 10th. The obituary was brief with one comment written by Doris’ only relative, a nephew. 

I hastily added mine:

So sorry to hear of Doris’ passing. She and I met back in the 60s when we worked together as nurses at Pollack Hospital in Jersey City. We also traveled with Doris and Bud and kept in touch over the years after we moved out of state.
She was the most generous, caring and kind person I ever knew. 
I will miss her.

Doris & Bud Dolan October 2010
(Bud died November 9, 2020)

Rejuvenation

Another sunsetMy definition of rejuvenation is spending five days at Fort Myers Beach with my good friend, Lois, walking the beach, watching sunsets, having one humongous scoop of ice cream from Kilwin’s each evening, and reliving the fun times we have had over the 45 years of our friendship. Like the time we decided to join the Navy. We were just shy of 42 years of age, the cut off age to enlist as an officer. We were both master’s prepared nurses, wives and mothers of high schoolers. We wanted to travel. We liked the uniforms and dark blue was on our color wheel.

Lois remembers her husband was nonchalant about our visit to the recruiter. I don’t remember my husband’s reaction. I think both husbands weren’t surprised at anything we decided to do together. We never did pursue joining the Navy, but we had many belly laughs thinking about our visit.

So here we are enjoying each other’s company, grateful for our special friendship, and staying in the moment as we treasure the magnificent environment surrounding us.

View from our room
View from our room

 

Morning walk
Morning walk

Evening entertainment
Evening entertainment

Great place for dinner
Great place for dinner

One of the locals
One of the locals

wrinting-by-the-beach.jpeg
Writing by the beach

sunset
Another lovely sunset

 

Letting It Go

I connected with Antoinette Truglio Martin over a year ago when I sent her a text to learn about her experience with She Writes Press and finding a publicist. She was so helpful. And I have since spotlighted her book: Hug Everyone You Know: A Year of Community, Courage, and Cancer.
I enjoy her Sunday posts: Weekend Coffee Share. I join her at her kitchen table while she shares her feelings and life events of the past week. She seems like a friend whom I have known for years.
Her most recent post spoke of her decision to let her hair go natural. Since I am a strong believer that women of a certain age shouldn’t try to emulate youth but serve as role models showing that aging is not a negative life stage, I am reblogging her post.
I hope you enjoy her post, Letting It Go, as much as I did.

Stories Served Around The Table

Frozen | Let It Go Sing-along | Official Disney UK

Dark and generously thick hair is a dominant family trait for the women on both sides of my DNA tree. But as years tumble forward, our heads fade to gray well before the mindset of middle age. Each generation of women had their method to combat and come to terms with the inevitable. My maternal grandmother enjoyed regular salon visits when she retired. Her hair looked like a blue helmet. The steeliness of her hair color was evident even when she twirled and set pin curls in a net for the night. My mom fought the gray with home dye colors. Her choice was a flat black, very close to her natural color but without the light brown tints. She spent the evening with her head covered in a plastic bag and scrubbing the drips of excess black streams off…

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Growing Older – On Turning 77

My friend, Lois, turns 77 and shares her thoughts on celebrating her birthday without her husband, Marv, and cooking a dinner for her family.

Write Along with Me

“Can I help you?“ a butcher yelled from a packaged meat display.

A few feet away, I was standing, clueless, in front of an impressive array of glass-encased chunks of red meat. “Yes, I guess,” I bellowed back. When he was situated across from me, I asked, “How many pounds of a chuck roast do I need to serve six adults?”

“About three and a half.”

“How long would I have to bake it in the oven?”

After he outlined exact hours and temperatures, I gushed my thanks. “It will be the first roast I’ve made in forty-seven years; I want to impress my family.” After no response, I added, “I’ll take about four pounds; I’ll want left overs.”

As excited as I was to purchase this $25.00 piece of thick, marbled and bladed meat, his bland facial expression told me he was not interested in why it was the…

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Nurse at the Switchboard

Ten of us from a class of 44 traveled to Cape May, New Jersey to attend our 55th nursing reunion. We first met as young Catholic teens in the late ’50s enrolled in the diploma program at Saint Peter’s School of Nursing in New Brunswick, New Jersey. Hard to believe we are now in our mid-70s.

At our luncheon at the Inn of Cape May on a glorious sunny day this past September, we laughed and reminisced about the three years we lived together, when Connie mentioned that she had to man the switchboard at night during the psych rotation at a private psychiatric facility in a Maryland suburb.

Never heard of this we said. But one of us (can’t remember exactly who that was) chimed in to say she remembered at the time how glad she was that she never had to do this. So there was validation that Connie’s memory was intact. Imagine having to work at a telephone switchboard! What does this have to do with learning about psychiatric patients?

lady at switchboard

I found a picture of a telephone switchboard for you too young to remember this contraption that connected folks to each other via telephone lines. Or you could just watch the old movie: Bells Are Ringing with Judy Holiday and Dean Martin.

 

 

 

After hearing about the switchboard, we began outdoing each other with anecdotes about our early nursing days.

I wanted to take notes to capture these unique tales but decided I would rather just enjoy the fellowship. Later, I asked my classmates if I could call them, one by one, and document what they would want to share with current nurses about life in the “olden days.” They all consented.

So now I have a new project. I had been thinking about surveying my classmates about their nursing lives for quite a while. Since our 55th celebration is over, I realize it is now or never. We are dying off. Sad to say but true. Who will remember us? Or what nursing was like years ago? Who would believe that as part of the educational program to learn to be a psych nurse you had to know how to work a telephone switchboard?

You’ll be hearing more about my classmates.

Radio Interview

I was listening to my long time friend, fellow writer and nurse, Lois Roelofs being interviewed on the Laura Dion Jones Show from Illinois on WRMN 1410, last week. With my I-Pad up to my ear, I settled in a comfy chair in the living room of my daughter’s home in Raleigh. For the next half hour, my four-year-old grandson repeatedly circled my chair, lunged at the dog, and jumped on his eight-year-old brother who was playing Mario Kart and protested loudly. Besides ignoring my grandsons, I ignored the ringing phone and hoped no one would press the doorbell.

Lois wrote a book: Caring Lessons: A Nursing Professor’s Journey of Faith and Self. Lois not only promoted her book but also discussed the special characteristics of the nursing profession. She told Laura’s audience that nurses are not just caring but use manual dexterity along with cognitive and social skills in their interactions with patients. “It’s an intellectually vigorous profession.” And the ultimate multitasking profession, I might add. Anyone who has been hospitalized will appreciate the benefits of a being cared for by a competent and compassionate nurse.

Lois and I met years ago in a baccalaureate-nursing program. We share the same irreverent sense of humor and the love of nursing. And the belief nurses have an important message to share with the public—how and why we make a difference. Lois does a good job during the interview to make this point.

Listen for yourself. Brew a cup of tea. Click and fast forward into the broadcast to 3:05 minutes and hear Lois promote her book and the nursing profession.