Neringa was a three-story nursing home back in the seventies. I was training in my first year of geriatric and palliative care.

A bright and sunny Saturday morning greeted me as I set off for work at Neringa. I was looking forward to seeing my Tutor and Charge Nurse, Sister Warne. She was an older woman with a lot of knowledge to pass on.

I pushed through the polished wooden doors expecting to see nurses running back and forth. Nothing.
It was eerie not to hear the rush and bustle of nurses going about their daily morning routine.

Wonderful smells came from the kitchen as staff prepared breakfasts for the patients. I had a strange feeling that all was not right, the night staff were still gathered around the Charge Nurse giving her a rundown of patients during the night. The day staff hadn't clocked on and I was part of that staffing.

Sister Warne waddled towards me with a face like thunder.
"Nurse, the day staff have decided to get over last night's party. It's just you and me, kid. The kitchen staff have kindly offered to do the feeds to help us out. There will be no showers, only bed baths. The late shift can do the dressings. Never in my history of nursing has this situation faced me." She stood like a sentinel and gave no emotion, a dedicated nurse.

There were three floors with thirty bedridden and dying patients on each floor. Sister gave me instructions, we knew we wouldn't cope with all the floors. She allocated me A floor which was reasonably light compared to her taking C floor. C floor consisted of all women and heavy nursing.

We both rolled up our sleeves and worked bed to bed. It was hard and necessary work. And not being able to shower some patients and get them out of bed; upset my normal caring nature. Trying to turn them to stop bed sores was impossible without another nurse helping.

After I finished with the men's floor I went upstairs to help Sister Warne.
I got the shock of my life.

"Well, you are about to help me with your first layout. I hope you are not going to throw up!" She winked.

The dead man lay naked on his bed. It didn't worry me that much, I had seen a dead person before.
Sister was washing the body and needed my help to turn him to wash his back. She had a red ribbon in her hand.

"What's that ribbon for?" I was more than curious.
"When we do a proper layout for the morticians, all orifices are plugged, and if it is a male. I tie their Willies up!"
"Why?"
She smiled at me and said, "Sometimes they wet the bed."

These days nurses don't have to deal with bodies like we did that day.
The morticians zip up the black bag and take the occupant away.

I don't know how a woman her age worked so efficiently; she was miles ahead of me. I was the newbie and I was physically fit. We had no air-conditioning in those days, so sweat ran down my back. She outpaced me with her knowledge and speed.

She had a favorite patient with a shocking bedsore in her sacral area. It was so deep you could see bone beneath.
Sister made an exception for this patient. Warne was of the old school before all the fancy medicines came to the fore.

"I want you to roll her so we can get her face down." Sister had a jar of Vegemite.
When I saw the hole in the patient's spine I was more than shocked. Bedsores, or decubitus ulcers are the bane of nursing bedridden people.

Sister pulled the packing of gauze from the hole, it stunk. She then cleaned it with saline. She asked me to hand her the jar of Vegemite.
Quizzically, I looked at her. Vegemite was a staple on breakfast toast at home. Using a tongue depressor, she slowly and carefully filled the hole.
"Ah," I said.
"I guess you are wondering why I have used Vegemite. Well, it's full of yeast and the wound feeds on it. A wound this big will never heal, especially at her age. It may give her some comfort. Now, we will seal it. Once the air is not allowed, the infection will slow down."

We didn't take meal breaks, we just kept moving. I made my way to a favorite patient and spoke to him, he was a handsome man, good skin, bright eyes and mute.

"Sorry, Ken we can't chat today. But, tomorrow I will get you out of bed into a chair for break from your bed."

I always talked to him about anything and watched his beautiful eyes light up. And, as time went on (I nursed there for three years.) I managed to get Ken out of bed ( with help) into a comfortable chair for his lunch. The day I was leaving, I told him and to my surprise he said, "I will miss you." Three years and not a word from him.

I had tears well up in my eyes. Some of the other nurses couldn't be bothered with Ken. Silly things like, he was too heavy to get out of bed. Nothing is impossible with God. When you dedicate yourself to nursing, nothing should be impossible. We had a lot of lazy nurses, just a job and the money came before the patient.

"Nurse!" Sister Warne shouted. It's nearly 2 pm and you look worn out."
The morning shift was 7 - 2pm. I walked slowly past the kitchen and Maria handed me a container full of her wonderful macaroni and cheese.
Sister Warne thanked me and went on to write her notes for the afternoon shift.

I spent three years at Neringah and then went on to nurse palliative care children and psychiatric nursing of men. Now, they are more stories I might write about.