Photos of the Patients I wrote about in my book: Stories from the Tenth-Floor Clinic: A Nurse Practitioner Remembers

This past Saturday, I received a box in the mail filled with old photos. The nurse practitioner who took my place when I left the Senior Center sent this delightful surprise. “Rita Wisniewski” (I changed all names in my book except for my immediate family) said in her note that sending me the pictures of the patients we both took care of was “long overdue.” Rita had read my book but due to illness was unable to come to the various venues in Chicago where I promoted the book 2019. Between ill health and the pandemic, Rita had forgotten about contacting me. 

Rita read my book and recognized many of the patients I wrote about. Thanks to Rita, now I have pictures of those who appeared in my book. 

Molly, a wiry, eighty-year-old woman with an Irish brogue, lived next door to Ms. Henry. She often dropped into the clinic to socialize rather than to seek care. She didn’t take medication, and rarely complained of aches or pains.  P 103

Jerry Johnson, mildly retarded, wiggled between us, (on the dance floor) gyrating and twisting with abandon. It was a raucous moment that transcended age and ability.  (At a retirement party) P 117

Lilly Parks, a strikingly attractive woman in her seventies, stuffed her shawl down the front of her dress, and staggered about the dance floor on her matchstick legs as if she was going into labor. I had heard she kept a silver handgun in her sock but that evening she must have left it at home since her slim ankles were surrounded only by her rolled-down stockings. She waddled around in the center of the room clutching her belly to hoots from an enthusiastic audience (same retirement party) P 117

Stella Bukowski: (Sitting in a wheelchair) A dirty blond wig sat askew on her head. Only one leg, which was covered with a wrinkled cotton stocking, extended past the skirt of her housedress, and her foot was encased in a heavy black orthopedic shoe.  She reeked of a sharp ammonia smell. Urine? P 144

A picture of me that I have never seen before. However, I remember the poster, which was one of my favorites. I don’t remember where the picture was taken. The picture is too faded to read the citation on the bottom of the poster. Maybe one of you older nurses will recognize the poster and get back to me with the answer. 

Health care today is changing

Today we need someone who can help us manage our health care needs in the hospital, the home, the HMO, the school, the workplace, in long term care and in the community. 

Today we need a provider who can teach us how to stay physically and mentally healthy and how to prevent illness and disease. 

Today we need access to specialty practitioners who can provide expert heath care for individuals and their families. 

Today more than ever we need an advocate who can deliver quality cost-effective care throughout all the stages of our lives.

Today, we need a Nurse

Alphabet Challenge: U

I’ve signed onto The Blogging from A to Z April Challenge 2021.

The challenge is to blog the whole alphabet in April and write at least 100 words on a topic that corresponds to the letter of the day. 

Every day, excluding Sundays, I’m blogging about Places I Have Been. The last post will be on Friday, April 30 when I finally focus on the letter Z. 

U: University of Illinois at Chicago

I graduated from UIC, College of Nursing in 1981 with a master’s degree in Public Health Nursing. During my first semester, in the community assessment class, I was assigned to the Pilsen neighborhood with a fellow student. At the end of this course, we had to write a paper about the community and the health problems that we unearthed. 

In order to get to know the neighborhood, my classmate and I walked the streets, looking at the housing and stopping in the stores. Mexican music played loudly from the shops while mothers, fathers, grandparents and lots of babies and children filled the sidewalks. I fell in love with the Mexican neighborhood. I brought home Piñatas, Mexican pastries and colorful vases. The vibrant sense of this Hispanic community impressed me.

There was another part of this geographical area: modest, detached homes and sidewalks swept clean by elderly Italian and Polish homeowners who soon would no longer be able to keep up their property. It was this population I would meet again in a few years after I became a gerontological nurse practitioner and took charge of a senior clinic on the westside of Chicago. UIC was the conduit for the welcome change of direction in my career. 

The Tale of Two Clinics

Reflections in the December issue of the American Journal of Nursing had an essay by Mark Darby RN, ARNP: The Way of Johnson Tower. Johnson Tower, a public housing building, sounded very much like the Senior Clinic I worked in and wrote about in my book: Stories from the Tenth-Floor Clinic: A Nurse Practitioner Remembers. Seems that the only difference between the residents of the buildings was that Mark’s building housed adults, mine was limited to residents over 60. Otherwise, both sets of folks who sought care from either of us  nurse practitioners were mostly marginalized, underserviced, and poor—and gutsy.

Mark didn’t identify the location of his public housing building but I can surmise that it was in an unsafe part of town, on the first floor and, like my clinic, had been a converted one-bedroom apartment. He says the clinic has . . . “one exam room” and is “below the building laundry. If more than four people use the washing machine, water will drip into the centrifuge.”

Mark describes four of his patients, each with their own challenges but each reaching out to help others. Getting to know patients as intimately as Mark does is facilitated by caring for the patients on their own turf. Mark and I get to know first-hand what challenges our patients face and we know the strengths they gather up to face them.

I bet Mark’s clinic, like the Senior Clinic, promoted low tech/high touch. Here is a copy of the brochure from the Senior Clinic that a friend who had worked with me sent recently. He had been sorting through “memorabilia” from over 30 years ago!

 

Senior Clinic Brochure
Circa 1987

 

A murder due to a drug deal gone bad occurred just outside Mark’s clinic. Those who planned my Senior Clinic decided to place the clinic on the tenth floor to avoid any drug seekers trashing our clinic looking for narcotics. Neither clinic would attract patients with medical insurance who had a choice of health care facilities.

I especially liked Mark’s answer when asked how he could work in such a setting. He said, “One thing I learned in NP school is that I am a nurse first and an advanced practitioner second. Nurses are supposed to look at the whole person—mind, body, and spirit—as well as the environment. I have found that the residents of Johnson Tower teach me more about being a nurse and a human being than you would imagine.” Amen I say to that.

I’m not exactly sure when my clinic closed. When I went back to Chicago in 2007 the building was no longer a public housing building but was run by the Hispanic Housing Development Corporation. It looked well cared for. I called their office soon after that visit and was told there was no longer a clinic there.

Sad.