Kneeling in Blood: Who is Kate Cumming? The Road Home

This is the last entry in Kneeling in Blood.  This entry doesn't deal as much with Kate as a nurse, as it does with Kate as a Southern woman returning home after the end of the war.  This part of Kate's journal was harder for me to read than all the rest of it. 

Excerpts from Kate's journal:

April 19^th:  The enemy did not come last night, but I expect they will honor us today.  I opened a prayer book and my eye fell on the twenty-seventh psalm:  “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom then shall I fear.”  I do not think it was accident made me turn to those appropriate and comforting words – however some may laugh and say so.  My faith is strong in the belief that there is an unseen hand directing all our ways.

Night – The enemy marched in about 5pm.  I have just been on the gallery, watching the burning of the warehouse, and the sad work of destruction still going on.  We hear the sound of axes and suppose they are tearing up the railroad track.  I thank the Giver of all good that I have been enabled to look calmly on the destruction without one feeling of revenge.

April 22^nd:  There is much excitement in town.  News had just come that there is an armistice, and that we had been recognized by France, England, Spain and Austria.  Lincoln has been assassinated.  None of our people believe any of the rumors, they look upon it as a plot to deceive the people.

April 26^th:  We have just heard that the French fleet has had a battle with the Federal fleet, and whipped it and taken New Orleans.  All are much rejoiced.  There is really an armistice.

April 30^th:  In the evening we went to the Baptist Church and heard an excellent sermon.  The test was, “And a man shall be a hiding-place from the wind, and a covert from the tempest.”  A very earnest prayer was offered up in behalf of our fugitive president, in which I know everyone joined heartily.  I did not know he was a fugitive, but the truth is gradually dawning on us that we are really subjugated.  I knew we had peace – how, I did not understand; but certainly thought we were independent.  This is a severe ordeal; may God in His mercy give us comfort through it.

May 1^st:  A lovely day; spring is silently working her great Creator’ swill and arraying herself in all her glories.  Meadow and woodland is brilliant with her gorgeous robes.  There is a mellowness breathing in the air, which fills one with an undefinable feeling of perfect tranquility.  O, how welcome it comes to our trouble spirits!  How bountifully God has showered His blessing on us, if we would only receive them!

We have received orders to have everything packed to hand over to the United States Government, or someone – we do not exactly know who.

May 4^th:  I heard yesterday that there are no cars running south of West Point, the raiders having destroyed the bridges in that section.  I intend going to Newnan, as I may have a chance of getting a conveyance from there,  home.

May 5^th:  I arrived at Newnan today at 11am, having left Griffin yesterday.  On the train to Atlanta I met my friend, Dr. Hughes, on his way to this place; also Dr. Archer.

As we neared Atlanta, the scene was one of desolation and ruin.  As far as the eye could reach, pile after pile of blackened brick could be seen, where once had stood stately mansions.  

This morning, we came down to the depot, it was almost impossible to find where it had been.  I never expected to see such utter destruction as we there beheld.  The meanest building on that street – the old Gate City Hospital – was left untouched.  It served as a mark, to show us where we were.  Opposite it, where many other large buildings had stood, not one stone is now left upon another. There were many Confederate soldiers returning to their homes.  They treated the Federals with perfect indifference.

May 29, 1865:  I arrived in Mobile on the 27^th, having left Newnan on the 17^th. 

We reached West Point about two hours before sunset, and such a scene as I saw there I never shall forget.  The river was gliding as smoothly as if the enemy had never been thee to disturb the quiet.  The fine bridge that spanned it had been destroyed and every way the eye turned was ruin and desolation.  The depot and warehouse were a pile of blackened bricks.  The banks were covered with the men of our army returning to their homes.  The faded gray uniform was seen everywhere. There were some half a dozen “blue-coats” standing by themselves, as much alone as if they had been in the Desert of Sahara, instead of in the midst of a people whom they claimed to have conquered.  I almost pitied their loneliness.  I thought they looked as if they had been guilty of a wrong for which they were sorry.

Nature never looked more beautiful to me, and the setting sun flung his rays over the grand old trees and scattered groups, as if to remind us that there was something more than the present, which no foe could take away.

I left Montgomery on the 26^th, and the roads were so bad that I thought at one time we should never get to the end of our journey.  As we neared Mobile my heart sank within me at the desolate appearance of everything.  

On reaching home I found my family all well.  My brother, along with his company, had done good service to Spanish Fort.

This year has developed the fate of the South.  Time has revealed the utter loss of all our hopes.  A change must pass over every political and social idea, custom, and relation.  The consummation makes the year just passed ever memorable in our annals.  In it gathers all the interest of the bloody tragedy; from it begins a new era, midst poverty, tears and sad memories of the past.

O, may we learn the lesson that all of this is designed to teach; that all things sublunary are transient and fleeting, and lift our soul to that which is alone ever-during and immutable – God and eternity!  And forgetting the past, save in the lessons which it teaches, let  us . . .redeem the time, live humbly and trust God for future good.

KC

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That Kate could end her journal with this incredible paragraph is not only a testament to her and her faith, it is a testament to her God, that He was faithful enough in all the days, all the roads, all the weary steps before it to cause her to know with certainty He would be faithful for the future.

Kate’s journal contains pains and sorrows which did not fit within the subtext of a nurse during war-time.  There was much I did not include, could not include for the sheer sake of time and volume.

Her journal is a piece of history.  As it was unfolding before her, so close to so many battlefields, she wrote it down.  She relays things her patients experienced, events they watched, now shared through Kate’s eyes.  She paints a picture of Southern life during this painful wartime that is true because that is what she was living.  If you want to understand what this war was about from the Southern perspective, Kate expresses it as clearly as anyone ever could.

The story of her long trip home to Mobile and the devastation and desolation she saw along the way is heartbreaking to anyone who travels in, lives in or loves the South.  And yet, her words are not without hope.  Her last words are that of encouragement to us, to learn the lessons well which she saw unfolding before her eyes.  These lessons are not political.  They are not social.  They are not cultural.

Kate implores us that the blood – of Confederate and Federal alike – which calls up to us from each and every battlefield does not speak of victory or defeat.  It speaks loudly and boldly of eternity: of faith or rejection.  It speaks of death –each one’s death:  of passing into life eternal and joyous or into eternal damnation and pain. 

May we heed those callings well.  When we have joined our voices with the fallen, it will be too late to then decide our fate.

Kneeling in Blood: Who is Kate Cumming? Part 13

This series on Kate Cumming is dedicated to all those nurses who give of themselves to heal others. Your kindness, your touch, your wisdom and your unselfish dedication can never be appreciated enough.

To all my sister and brother nurses,

Thank You.

 

 

Excerpts from Kate's journal:

 

May 24^th:  We have a number of the sick and wounded from the Twenty-ninth Alabama Regiment.  One lad, in his sixteenth year, is very ill; he requested me to write to his father, and let him know where he is.  I said, why not write to your mother.  After hesitating awhile, tears filled his eyes, and with a quivering lip he told me she was deranged on account of her sons all leaving her for the army; he had run away two years ago.

We are kept very busy.  Miss Womack takes charge of all the groceries, as I call them – whiskey, butter, etc. – and keeps a daily account of everything that is received and issued, which is measured or weighed.  The liquor of all kinds is given out on an order from the druggist, for each ward separately.  I make a daily report to the steward of every article used in our kitchen, besides keeping a weekly and monthly account, not only of the articles consumed, but of all the cooking utensils, dishes, etc., which are used in the kitchen.

June 10^th:  There is not a day passes but we hear of the death of some of the men we have had here as nurses or patients.  I bid good-by to many a man, and the next thing we hear he is dead and gone.

A day or two ago we received a lot of badly wounded; some of them are shot near the spine, which paralyzes them so that they can neither use hands or feet.  Mr. Pullet, a Georgian, is wounded through the lungs; the least movement causes the blood to run in streams from his wound.  Mr. Thomas is wounded through the head; his brain is oozing out and at time he is delirious.

July 31^st:  Yesterday morning, while I was in the yard of the court-house, attending to the patients, I saw a man ride in haste to town and a crowd collect around him.  We were informed he was a courier, and had brought news that the enemy were within six miles of the place.

He was not through talking when the locomotive gave a most unearthly whistle, and immediately we heard the firing of musketry.

The crowd who had been around the courier dispersed in double-quick time.  I hurried across the street to secure some money and little trinkets that the men had given me to take care of, thinking they would be more secure with me than themselves.  On crossing, two or three shots whizzed past me, so I have been under fire for once.

August 6^th:  The prisoners still continue to come in.  A few days ago I saw about sixty in a crowd, and a more deplorable sight I never beheld; they were barefooted and bareheaded.  Mr. Holt, who has charge of the linen-room, gave them all the hats and shoes he could collect.

We sent them about two galloons of nice soup and what bread we could procure.  Many of the men told me they would do without and give their share to the prisoners.  It would be some time before they could get food cooked at prison.  The prisoners, one and all, told us that they could not be better treated.

August 19^th:  We started from Newnan on the 15^th and arrived at West Point about sundown the same day.  We arrived at Americus today the 19^th.  We cannot tell how we shall like the place.  It is quite a large village, and from all appearances we are going to have a very nice hospital, but none of us liked being compelled to come to it.

September 1^st:  Last night our hospital was burned to the ground, and with it much valuable property belonging to the town.  We saved very little.

November 26^th:  We are ready to make another move.  Our hospital s are ordered to Gainesville, Alabama.  The base of our army is changed.  This will be a long, tedious trip, as we have to change cars very often.  Well, there is no use in grumbling.

January 5, 1865:  Our hospitals have all been ordered to Tennessee. I am highly delighted at this new move, as it shows that our army is still triumphant.

February 4 (while visiting home in Mobile): While getting ready to go back to the hospital, my father came in overjoyed, and told me that my work was over and that we are to have peace at last.  Lincoln has agreed to receive peace commissioners and three of our ablest men have gone on the mission.

February 8^th:  More woe and sorrow in store for us!  Our commissioners have returned unsuccessful!  No peace for us without going back to the Union!

February 27^th:  Our hospitals have taken another exodus and gone back to Georgia.  I intend leaving to-morrow and it is with a sad heart, as God alone knows what may be the fate of Mobile ere many days have elapsed; for it is no feint this time.  The enemy means something now; of that all are confident.

March 9^th:  I arrived at Griffin, Georgia, yesterday, having left Mobile on the steamer Southern Republic.  I think I never saw rain until today; it is actually pouring in torrents.  Yesterday, when I arrived at the depot, it was raining very hard, and when I looked out of the car at the crowd of men, and saw no familiar face, I felt a little homesick.  I have no good, kind Mrs. Williamson to say, in her quiet manner, “Have patience the Lord will bring all right.”  Left wholly to myself, I felt that all my boasted determination to remain in the hospital till the war was over, or as long as I could be of service to the suffering, would now be put to the test.

KC

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These excerpts from Kate’s journal touch on two aspects of nursing – which may not be considered as a part of nursing – but have often been in the back of my mind. 

The first is a hospital fire.  Only once have I thought I was in the midst of a hospital fire.  Two units were evacuated, and it wasn’t for almost two hours and after the searching by the firefighters we discovered the thick blanket of smoke was not the result of flame, but of a faulty wire in a light fixture.

The other aspect is that of “enemy” fire.  Increasing are reports of hostile visitors entering a hospital and taking aim upon nurses and staff members.  Dealing with this situation – protecting patients and staff – is something I have thought of often.

To all those nurses who must deal with unexpected emergencies while caring for their patients, you have my admiration and appreciation. 

Kneeling in Blood: Who is Kate Cumming? Part 12

This series on Kate Cumming is dedicated to all those nurses who give of themselves to heal others. Your kindness, your touch, your wisdom and your unselfish dedication can never be appreciated enough.

To all my sister and brother nurses,

Thank You.

 Excerpts from Kate's journal:

 

October 12^th:  The hospital is filled with wounded – the very worst which were on the battle-field.  There was a raid expected, and they had to be taken off in a hurry.  They were put on the train about three or four days ago, and have had little to eat; and many of them have not had their wounds dressed during that time.

I have just received a litter from my brother, dated the 8^th.  He says the army has been in line of battle ever since the late battle, and are waiting for the enemy to make the attack.

October 28^th:  On my way to the wards this morning I was annoyed at something which happened.  I had made up my mind to leave the hospital, but on entering the wards all of this feeling vanished.  When I saw the smile with which I was greeted on every side. And the poor sufferers so glad to see me, I made up my mind, I hope for the last time, that, happen what may, nothing will ever make me leave the hospital as long as I can be of any service to the suffering.

December 7^th:  I received a letter from my brother today.  He is well, and has lost everything except the clothes which he has on.  I intend sending him some.

January 3, 1864:  Part of our hospital was destroyed by fire last night.  It originated in the officer’s quarters of the Buckner Hospital through the negligence of a servant.  I have been told that some of the officers who were wounded nearly lost their lives.  We lost two buildings; they had few patients in them, and no one was hurt.  But a short time since they were filled with badly wounded, who, fortunately, had been removed.

January 29^th:  We are sadly in want of comforts, cotton to make mattresses, spoons, knives and forks, and in fact everything.  Many of our men have to eat their food with their fingers.

May 17^th:  There has been fighting near Dalton for some days.  Our army has left that place, and is moving down, drawing the enemy with it.

I went to Atlanta on the 15^th, in company with some ladies and gentlemen of this place.   We intended going to the scene of conflict, but as the army is on the move, had to come back.  We reached Atlanta on the morning of the 16^th, about daylight.  Mrs. Harris and myself went to the Gate City Hospital.  It is the distributing one.  The hospital was filled with wounded , who had come in that morning from the front.  Mr. Tucker told me that he had dressed the wounds of four hundred men since 4 o’clock the previous day.  He had been up all that night at his work.

That morning was one of the gloomiest I ever passed.  Hundreds of wounded men, dirty, bloody and weary, were all around us.  And when I thought of the many more which were expected, I was filled with despair, and felt like humbling myself in the dust, and praying more earnestly than ever before that God would send us peace.

In the afternoon, Mrs. Harris, Mrs. Barnes, Mrs. Auld and myself went to the cars, on their arrival from the front; and O, what a sight we there beheld!  No less than three long trains filled, outside and in, with wounded.  Nearly all seemed to be wounded in the head, face and hands.  I asked someone near me why this was.  They replied, because our men had fought behind breastworks.

The men were lying all over the platform of the depot, preferring to remain there, so as to be ready for the train which would take them to other places.  I was informed that there were about seven or eight hundred wounded who had come In that evening.

At daybreak I went to the hospital by myself.  On arriving there I found that no more wounded had come, but there were many there already.  The scene which presented itself to me in the large room where we had been the night before was sickening.

There was pile after pile of rags, just as they had been taken from the wounds, covered with blood and the water used in bathing them.  All of the attendants were too much exhausted to clean up.

These are the things to which we have to shut our eyes, if we wish to do any good, as they cannot be avoided.

I met Dr. Calvert of the Thirty-eighth Alabama Regiment, who requested me to get some rags for him, which I did, and assisted him as much as I could.  He had some badly wounded men from his regiment.

Dr. Calvert told me he had not eaten anything for some time.  I gave him some coffee, bread, and meat; and when I recollect now the place in which he ate it, I think we can get used to anything.  It was in the room or hall which I have just described.

KC

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is amazing what nurses and physicians can “get used to.”  Families of medical personnel frequently have to remind them not to talk about work at the dinner table!  I would imagine that Kate surprised herself by being able to eat sometimes after having seen, or having smelled, the sights and smells she encountered.

To all those nurses who have left a sick patient, or perhaps a difficult smell, or an unpleasant sight, grabbed a quick bite of food, and ran off to take care of more sick patients, I applaud you for your ability to “get used to” it and go on.  As Kate said, “these are the things to which we have to shut our eyes, if we wish to do any good, as they cannot be avoided.”

Kneeling In Blood: Who Is Kate Cumming? Part 11

This series on Kate Cumming is dedicated to all those nurses who give of themselves to heal others. Your kindness, your touch, your wisdom and your unselfish dedication can never be appreciated enough.

To all my sister and brother nurses,

Thank You.

 Excerpts from Kate's journal:




Atlanta, Georgia

September 28th:  Last evening, Rev. Dr. Husten made a speech at the depot, calling on the people to send up provisions and nurses to Chickamauga, for the purpose of feeding and nursing the wounded, as General Bragg has gone with his whole army to take Chattanooga, and requires the services of every man who is able to travel, and there are not enough left to take care of the sufferers.

The enemy has destroyed a portion of the railroad, and the wounded had to be taken to a place called the "Burnt Shed", some twenty miles distant from the battle-field, there to await transportation on the cars.

I intend leaving this afternoon, and am busy collecting what I can to take with me.

October 6th: Left her on the 28th about 3 o'clock a.m.  The cars were densely crowded with soldiers returning to their commands.  When we arrived at the Burnt Shed, found that the rail track had been finished to Ringgold; so we passed on to that place.  As I was familiar with it, I went to the nearest building, which had been the Bragg Hospital.

Wounded men, wrapped in their blankets, were lying on the balcony.  I went into a room which was filled with others in the same state; some of whom were suffering for want of water.

I remained there until after breakfast; then I went down to the main hospital, where I was introduced to the surgeon in charge, Dr. Ussery.  He gave me bandages to roll.  Mr. Deering and myself sat on the up-stairs gallery, where we could see the wagon trains come in with their precious burdens.  As many as fifty came in at one time.  We rolled bandages until the afternoon, and could scarcely supply the demand.  This work had been quite  trial for me, as I had been compelled to see our poor fellows brought in as they were taken from the field hospital, and I had no chance of doing any thing for them.

Next morning, I arose early.  On reaching the hospital,to my joy and surprise, I found that Dr. Stout had arrived early in the morning, and with him a hospital corps of surgeons and nurses.  I knew that now the wounded would be well cared for.

I had made up my mind, on seeing so many there to take care of the wounded, that I would go right back to Newman, as I had left Mrs. Williamson quiet sick and much work to do.

I have always had a great desire to go on a battle-field.  I can not call it idle curiosity; but a wish to see and know the  most of everything, so that I might judge for myself, and know how I may be of service.

There was a Mrs. Weir, from Griffin, Georgia, who had come to nurse her son.  He had lost a leg, and was at a private house near the battle-field.  This lady told me she had a young friend, whose corpse she had heard was still on the battle-field unburied.   She kindly asked me to go with her.

The field was some fifteen miles distant; so we had to watch our chances of getting a conveyance.  There were wagons coming in all the time with the wounded, but none going back that day; so an opportunity for getting out seemed slender.  Mr. Deering was on the watch for us.  A very nice-looking covered private wagon came, and after depositing its load, Dr. Deering requested the owner to take us; but he stoutly refused, saying his horses were completely worn out.  Mr. Deering then told him that there was one of the ladies who had nursed at least one thousand Confederates, and was very anxious to go out to the field.  He immediately drew up and invited us all in, Mr. Deering going with us.

We traveled over the roughest roads I ever was on.  I thought, if this was the road our wounded had to come, they must indeed suffer; and, sure enough, we met what seemed to me hundreds of wagons, with their loads, going to Ringgold.

As we rode out the tents of the different field hospitals came in view; when we thought of the inmates and their sufferins, it only served to add to the gloom.  I tried to look neither to the riht or lieft, for I knew there were many pairs of eyes looking sadly at us from the sheds and tents.  I could do nothing for them, and when that is the case, I try to steel my heart against their sorrows.

I looked in the direction of the battle-field, and though of the nameless dead who were there.  I though of the awful conflict which had so recently raged between brother and brother.

We were near that fatal stream --the Chickamauga --the "River of Death!"  How prophetic its name!  I could think of nothing but that terrible strife, and our gallant patriots that fell there. . .

We went to another place, where we were told the worst wounded were. Dr. Rice introduced us to one of his surgeons, who took us into a "fly" about one hundred feet long, and every man in it had a limb amputated.  It was a sad sight, and I could scarcely refrain from tears.

I concluded not to visit the battle-field, as much time had elapsed since the battle.  I am told that the effluvia arising from the carnage makes it almost impossible to go within a mile of it.

KC
~~~~~~~~
I cannot begin to imagine what Kate went through as a nurse.  All of us as nurses witness suffering, many of us witness death.  We all see sorrow in caring for our patients and their families.  But Kate saw horrible mutilation, suffering and death every day.  She saw the ravages of war not only on bodies but on a beloved countryside as well.  I cannot think what pain she must have felt and the prayers she must have lifted up to her Lord to enable her to continue on.  And Kate didn't just continue on, she pressed forward, as her desire to go to the battle-field and the field hospital shows.

There are so many nurses today who press forward.  Nurses who may be experiencing their own personal pain, their own suffering and yet they bury it so that their patients never see it.  They carry on, they smile -- even when they feel like crying -- so they can treat, they can help and they can heal.

To all my brother and sister nurses who have hidden a wound --physical or emotional -- so that you can heal the wounds of others, 

I thank you.  

You are the very heart of nursing.

Kneeling in Blood: Who is Kate Cumming? Part 10

This series on Kate Cumming is dedicated to all those nurses who give of themselves to heal others. Your kindness, your touch, your wisdom and your unselfish dedication can never be appreciated enough.

To all my sister and brother nurses,

Thank You.

Nursing is one of the few professions that allows a person to almost completely change their career while staying in the same profession. Nursing offers the ease of movement from one specialty to another so that a person can find an area in which he or she is happy and interested.

I have benefited from this ease myself, beginning as a neonatal nurse, then becoming an obstetric nurse. I even worked for three years as a "clinical computer analyst" before moving back to obstetrics. It is a comfort to know that if you become dissatisfied in one area, you can learn and explore another.

As I read Kate's journal, I am impressed with how much change she encountered. She traveled from hospital to hospital, location to location. She dealt with men acutely wounded being carrying in fresh from the battle field and she worked in a hospital primarily caring for men with chronic ailments.

Along the way she met some wonderful people whom she came to admire greatly -- other nurses and physicians as well as citizens of each area to which she traveled. She also met with some she did not admire. These excerpts from Kate's journal deal with exactly that situation:

July 23, 1863: We have arrived in Kingston, Georgia, last evening, and put up at one of the hotels. Dr. Avent called early this morning: he is post surgeon and highly respected for his surgical abilities.

The first information we received from him was that he did not approve of ladies in hospitals; that was nothing new from a doctor, but we were a little taken aback to hear it said so bluntly. He then told us his principal objection was, that the accommodations in hospitals were not fit for ladies. We assured him he need give himself no uneasiness on that score, as we were all good soldiers, and had been accustomed to hardships.

We were escorted to the house which we now occupy. it consists of two small rooms on the ground floor. We are about a square and a half from the dining-room and kitchen; so when Drs. Avent and Hopping called to take us to dinner, we made quite a procession. On the way, Dr. Avent informed me that he was a strict disciplinarian, and as I had charge of every thing in the domestic line, if there was not a good dinner that day, he would call me to account. I laughed and told him, if he talked in that way, I should think him a real Pharaoh, as I had not even had time to look around me.

August 1st: We have a number of patients very sick, and we are kept very busy, as the two girls we brought with us from Chattanooga are both ill, and I suppose will have to leave. Two of our cooks are also down. I asked Dr. Avent to let some of the men come and assist in the kitchen, but he refused, saying that such work was degrading to them.

August 3rd: I am beginning to think that we shall not be able to remain here, as Dr. Avent has proved himself a real Pharaoh -- expecting brick without straw. We have many sick and much to do.

We have no wash house. When I asked Dr. Avent for one, he told me that his grandmother and mother never had any but the canopy of heaven for theirs, and he did not intend having any others in the hospital. I argued the case with him as best I could, I told him that a hospital was not a private house, and it was our duty to do all in our power to promote the health of the attendants as well as the patients; and that whoever washed ought to have a covering of some kind; and the clothing, whether dirty or clean, needed to be covered in case of rain. I found him inexorable.

I have made up my mind to let things take their course, and if I find I can not get along, will leave.

August 7th: I intend leaving today for Chattanooga.

This morning I sent for Dr. Avent and told him that it was impossible for us to get along without more servants; and I told him further that I knew of some who could be hired, and asked his consent; but he would not give it. So I then told him that Mrs. Williamson and myself would leave. At this he became quite angry, and said he could not compel us to remain, but since he had hired us ladies, he would pay us for the time we had been there. The latter part he said with emphasis, and then left me. Had he remained longer, I would have informed him that when we "hired" ourselves, we were not aware it was to him, but to the same government which had "hired" him.

I ask but one thing from any surgeon, and that is to be treated with the same respect due to men in their own sphere of life. I waive all claim for that due me as a lady, but think I have a right to expect the other. I scarcely think that Dr. Avent would dared to have spoken to one of his assistant surgeons as he did to me.

Well, these trials must be endured for a little while; they will soon, I trust, be over with; and then, it is for the cause we have to put up with them.

August 8th: Arrived in Chattanooga last evening, and am now at the Gilmer Hospital.

KC

~~~~~~~~~~~
So many nurses can relate to Kate's issue with Dr. Avent. How many times has a nurse, acting as an advocate for her patient, confronted a physician? How many times have nurses sought to rewrite policies, or find better, more effective ways to care for patients?

How many times as well have nurses found that they can no longer stay in a position they have held? The reason could be myriad: because of inabilities to deal with conflicting personalities; disagreements regarding policies; or perhaps it could be as simple as they wanted to try a new type of nursing.

For whatever reason, for every nurse which has left one position to go to another, I applaud your willingness to experience something new. For every nurse who has had the courage to do as Kate did --to walk away, to leave the known and established for the unknown, I applaud your willingness to stand up for your convictions. I applaud your ability to learn a new form of nursing, to become accustomed to new surroundings. You bring to your new home of nursing the strengths and knowledge you have gained from other areas, helping your new nurse colleagues to grow by that which brought you to where you are today.

On this National Nurses' Week, I thank you all.

Kneeling In Blood: Who Is Kate Cumming? Part 9

This series on Kate Cumming is dedicated to all those nurses who give of themselves to heal others. Your kindness, your touch, your wisdom and your unselfish dedication can never be appreciated enough.

To all my sister and brother nurses,

Thank You.

June 25th: Yesterday we sent many of our sick off. Today the hospital is again filled with wounded.

We are still sending the wounded away who are able to be moved to make room for more, as the battle is still progressing.

June 27th: We have a great many wounded; the same old story -- men mutilated in every possible way. In one place there are three men lying along side of each other; each has lost a leg. One has just died. I am sick at heart at these scenes, and there seems to be little prospect of a change.

July 1st: Great excitement in town. News has come that the enemy is across the ricer, and intends shelling the place. We are having hospital flags put up, abut I do not see that they will do any good, as it is said the enemy pay no respect to them. We are packing up in a hurry to move. Our hospital being near the river, we will be honored by the first shot. The house we are now in is marked by last year's shelling.

July 4th: What a glorious day this was once. Alas! how changed. It is now one of universal sorrow and gloom. If we could only visit the homes of many North and South, what a picture of desolation would be presented!

The hospital is filled with sick and wounded men, and men worn out with hunger and fatigue.

July 6th: We have just received orders to send every man away. Those who are not able to leave this place are to be sent to other hospitals, as we are so near the river, and would get, in case of an attack, the full benefit of the firing.

July 21st: I regret leaving Chattanooga as the army is here, but its movements are very uncertain; perhaps before many days we may be much nearer it than we cared for, although Dr. Stout does not seem to think so.

KC

~~~

These entries from Kate's journal put me in mind of the more modern army nurse.

Perhaps more than any other event, the roles thrust upon military nurses in war-time changed forever the roles of all nurses who followed them, civilian and military alike.

Military nurses often had to take upon themselves the roles and actions that until that time were in the domain of the physician. Nurses found themselves with more autonomy and more authority than ever before and once having had it thrust among them, they were not about to let it go.

These military nurses returned to states-side duty with a new confidence and new skills. They were quick to share these skills and to advocate that each nurse could utilize them in the best interest of the patient. So was nursing forever changed.

Military nurses had to think quickly, move quickly and heal quickly.

Shelling, as Kate described was a reality. Those who grew up in my era may remember watching the television show M*A*S*H in which the mobile hospital was bombed and shelled on a routine basis. Yet, surgery continued on, and at the side of those patients undergoing surgery were surgical nurses.

So for all those nurses who have worn a military uniform
instead of a nursing uniform, I thank you.
I thank you for serving our country and for changing our profession.
You have added dimensions and strengths
to nursing of which we might never completely be aware.

Thank you for your sacrifice, for leaving your families,
for healing our troops, for holding a hand of one dying.
Thank you for caring to be willing to go.

Kneeling In Blood: Who Is Kate Cumming? Part 8

This series on Kate Cumming is dedicated to all those nurses who give of themselves to heal others. Your kindness, your touch, your wisdom and your unselfish dedication can never be appreciated enough.

To all my sister and brother nurses,

Thank You.

Today is May 6th, National Nurses Day.

National Nurses Day always opens National Nurses Week which ends on May 12th, the birthday of Florence Nightingale. It is very fitting that we have an entry for Kate on this day, who had such an admiration of Florence Nightingale and her work during the Crimean War.

Here are some excerpts from Kate's journal:

February 10th: A hospital is the most cheerless place in the world, and the last place I would remain in from choice. If it were not for the sake of the wounded and sick men, I do not think I could possibly stand it.

February 21st: Our room is a front one, and a hall some ten feet wide divides quite a large ward from us, which is filled with typhoid and pneumonia cases. I counted seven men in the ward, blistered severely. Though the room is so near ours, we have no time to spend in it. Many a time through the night we hear the men cough and groan, but we can not even allow our minds to dwell on these things, as it would unfit us for our duties.

April 12th: War is a great leveler, and makes philosophers of us, when nothing else will. It astonishes me to see how the men adapt themselves to circumstances.

April 13th: There are numbers dying in our hospital every day, and scarcely any note is taken of them. At home, when a member of the family is about to go to his last resting-place, loving friends are around the couch of the sufferer, and by kind words and acts rob King Death of half his terrors and smooth the pathway to the valley and shadow of death. But here a man near dissolution is usually in a ward with perhaps twenty more. It is sad to see so many dying with no kindred near them to sooth their last moments and close their eyes.

April 16th: Miss Groom's health has been so feeble that she has been compelled to leave for home; she left yesterday; I went as far as Atlanta with her. Dr. O'Neal, an assistant surgeon of the Gilmer Hospital, accompanied us.

The cars, on my way back, were loaded with troops from Mobile, going to reinforce Bragg; among them were some Georgia regiments. I was informed that the Thirty-sixth and Thirty-eighth Alabama Regiments were on the train; as I had some friends in them, I tried to see them, but failed.

April 23rd: There is a report that there is fighting at the front.
We have numbers of the Thirty-sixth and Thirty-eighth Alabama Regiments very sick.

We are still very busy. We have almost every thing to buy ourselves. We pay two dollars per gallon for sweet milk; one dollar for buttermilk; eggs, one dollar per dozen; butter, one fifty per pound; coffee, five dollars.

May 9th: We are in daily expectation of a battle; and we are completely out of rags -- a very necessary article at this time. We have just received two boxes, both from Mobile. The good people of that place could not have sent us any thing more acceptable.

I also received a letter from a relative, informing me that the military aid society had some medicines they would send us, if we needed them. I asked Dr. Patterson, and he replied that nothing would be more acceptable, as many of our men have died for want of them.

Strange to say that although the government does not provide near enough of medicines it will not permit us to spend our hospital fund for them, and we find it impossible to spend what we have on edibles, as they are not to be bought.

KC

~~~~~~

Reading Kate's journal, I am often amazed at how the nurses had to be inventive in the procurement of goods and supplies for the men. Often she speaks of going to towns to barter or deal with citizens over edibles. Her listing of prices in this journal entry surprised me with their closeness to some of our own prices today.

Needing rags and medicines and having them sent "from home" was another interesting entry. How many times have we as nurses had to be inventive or creative in how we treat our patients? Sometimes the tools or supplies simply haven't been invented. . .yet.

I remember once when I first worked in NICU. Those were the early days of Neonatology and supplies for tiny premature infants just didn't exist as they do today.

We were expecting a tiny baby in by transport, smaller than we had breathing tubes to use for resuscitation. We were scrambling around the nursery, pulling out all sorts of other supplies, trying to make what we did not have. We pushed this tube into that connector, trying for a fit, over and over again until finally we had something that would work, something that would be small enough to fit into the tiny baby's trachea.

I can't remember the outcome of that little baby, but I remember the attitude, the persistence of the nurses in our unit. We were not going to fail. I can just imagine Kate being the same way. She was not going to let her boys down.

So on this Nurses Day,
150 years after Kate's pinafore trailed down bloody halls,
I wish all of my fellow nurses a Happy Nurses Day,
thanking you for your own attitudes of persistence and perseverance.

I recognize those times you refused to accept failure,
on your part or on the part of your patient,
knowing that there was a better way,
knowing that there could be life and health and healing.

May you each have the Nurses Week I know you deserve.

Kneeling in Blood: Who Is Kate Cumming? Part 7

This series on Kate Cumming is dedicated to all those nurses who give of themselves to heal others. Your kindness, your touch, your wisdom and your unselfish dedication can never be appreciated enough.

To all my sister and brother nurses,

Thank You.

It has been interesting in reading Kate's journal how her cares and concerns have changed. In the beginning, so much was about the horror and suffering she was witnessing. As her nursing progressed, there is less about that in her journal, although at one hospital she stated, "All our men seem to die resigned; but it is difficult to judge of their frame of mind, as they are too fr gone with disease when they come here to talk to them on the subject of death, which is another proof of the necessity of preparing, while in health, for that long journey form which no traveler returns."

Many of her concerns as the journal continues are of how to care for the men, how to procure the supplies or the personnel needed to meet their needs. It is obvious she has learned the lesson all nurses must learn at some point, how to put aside the pain and suffering until later, that the work must come first, and then later, when alone, the nurse can deal with his or her own feelings about what has been seen or heard.

Kate has learned to continue on, to go about the business of healing and taking care of what must be done. Over and over again in her journal she writes of the needs of the men: for milk, for clothing, for certain types of food, and for persons to cook that food correctly.

Here are some excerpts from her journal:

September 16: I arrived at Chattanooga this morning, about 5 o'clock, having left Dalton on the 15th. Mrs. Thornton arrived there before I left. We are now in the Newsom Hospital. It is a very large one, having been enlarged to double the size it was when we visited it before.

We have nothing to cook on but one small stove, and that a smoky one. It cooks for the whole of this side of the hospital. We have nothing to give the men to eat but wheat-bread, fresh beef, rice, tea and coffee.

September 19: I have been kept quite busy ever since I came here; in fact, we all have been. We have a good deal to try us, but our minds were made up to expect that before we came.

One of our greatest trials is want of proper diet for sick men. We do the best we can with what we have -- toast the bread and make beef tea; and we have a little butter - bad at that.

There are no changes of clothing for the men; but we have cloth, and after our day's work is done, we each make a shirt, which a great help.

September 28th: Have been very busy all the week, too much so to write in my journal.

Diarrhea is the prevailing disease among the patients.

The great cry of our sick is for milk. We could buy plenty, but have no money. We get a little every day for the worst cases, at our own expense. I intend letting the folks at home know how many are suffering for want of nourishment, for I feel confident that if they knew of it they would send us means.

October 12th: I do hope some one prayed for me today, as I have been too cross to do so myself; have had one of the most trying days of my life. I wonder if Miss Nightingale had any of the hardships to endure that we have.

I have another kitchen, and the chimney of it smokes as badly as the others. I spent the whole day in it. To add to all, it has poured down rain all day, and the wood was so wet that it was almost impossible to make it burn. I thought of home and home comforts not a few times.

We have men for cooks; but as they are taken from the convalescent patients, they are scarcely fitted for the work. I have had some two or three, but as soon as they are initiated into the mysteries of the culinary art they take sick; so we have a good deal of it to do ourselves.

October 27th: Patients from Bragg's army are coming in daily; the hospital is full of them.

I thought I had found a treasure in a woman whom I made my head cook; but on going into the kitchen this morning, found her in such a state of intoxication I had to dismiss her, and fall back on the convalescent men as cooks. It seems hard to make them understand the importance of cooking properly. There are many things, if not correctly prepared, are very injurious to the sick.

KC

~~~~~

In reading her journal, my heart goes out to Kate, trying to care for the men in her ward and cook on that smokey stove as well. I can feel her indignation when she found the intoxicated cook in the kitchen. I would imagine we could have seen some Scotch temper there.

In reading, I felt her frustration as well. How many of us as nurses have felt the pinch of a short-staffed night? Or a day when the patients just kept coming in and perhaps the nurses kept calling in? We all did just what Kate did, we heaved a big sigh and went about the business of "doing the best we can with what we have."

I can remember many a time having to "regroup", to reassign patients until we have evenly distributed them among the available nurses. I remember one night when we delivered seven babies in forty-three minutes with four nurses. The first nurse was the only one to actually deliver her own patient. Each of us just took whomever we needed to take to get the job done and in the end, each patient and each baby had been delivery and cared for properly. But it was a blur of baby-birthing activity!

So far all of my brother and sister nurses who have worked short-handed, who have done more than their share of duty during a shift, I pat you on the back, knowing it is possible no one else did.

Your dedication and your determination has not gone unnoticed.

Thank you.

Kneeling In Blood: Who is Kate Cumming? Part 6

This series on Kate Cumming is dedicated to all those nurses who give of themselves to heal others. Your kindness, your touch, your wisdom and your unselfish dedication can never be appreciated enough.

To all my sister and brother nurses,

Thank You.

Much of what I have been speculating while reading Kate's journal, has been, why did she do what she did? Why did she leave the comfort of her home, why did she go against the social tide of her day and go into the halls of the wounded?

An exerpt from her diary gives us part of the reason:

September 7: "It seems strange that the aristocratic women of Great Britain have done with honor what is a disgrace for their sisters on this side of the Atlantic to do. This is not the first time I have heard these remarks. Not respectable! And who has made it so? If the Christian, high-toned, and educated women of our land shirk their duty, why others have to do it for them. It is useless to say the surgeons will not allow us; we have our rights, and if asserted properly will get them. This is our right, and ours alone.

Women of the South, let us remember that our fathers, husbands, brothers and sons are giving up all that mortals can for us; that they are exposed hourly to the deadly missiles of the enemy; the fatigues of hard marching, through burning suns, frost, and sleet; pressed by hunger and thirst; subject to diseases of all kinds from exposure; and last, though by no means least, the evil influences that are common in a large army. Are we aware of this, and unwilling to nurse these brave heroes who are sacrificing so much for us? What in the name of common sense, are we to do? Sit calmly down, knowing that there is many a parched lip which would bless us for a drop of water, and many a wound to be bound up? These things are not to be done, because it is not considered respectable!

If it will hurt a young girl to do what, in all ages, has been the special duty of woman--to relieve the suffering--it is high time the youth of our land were kept from the camp and the field. If one is a disgrace, so is the other."

KC
~~~~~

Kate knew the war would bring suffering, injury and death. She also knew there would be a need to bring comfort to that suffering, hands to bind those wounds and hearts to ease the soul as death came.

For Kate, it was not tolerable to "sit calmly down" and wait for the war to be over. She could not rest knowing there was something she could be doing and to not do it. She had it within her power to help the wounded and she would not stop until she was allowed to do so. She felt it not only her duty, but her calling and her right to do so.

Every nurse, who on their time off, has stopped at a traffic accident, has helped a wounded or sick neighbor, or who has volunteered their time and skill, when they could have instead sat "calmly down," knows to some degree the heart that was beating in the chest of Kate Cumming.

It is more than a duty. It is more than a calling.

It is something that you just can't help but doing. Because being a nurse isn't something you do. It is something you are.

For all my fellow nurses who so willingly give of themselves after the time-clock stops, I thank you. Thank you that nursing is more than just a job, it's who you are.

Kneeling In Blood: Who Is Kate Cumming? Part 5

This series on Kate Cumming is dedicated to all those nurses who give of themselves to heal others. Your kindness, your touch, your wisdom and your unselfish dedication can never be appreciated enough.

To all my sister and brother nurses,

Thank You.

Excerpts from Kate's journal:

"April 13th: We eat in the kitchen, surgeons and all. It is not the cleanest place in the world, and I think, to use a Scotch phrase, would make even Mrs. McClarty 'think shame.' Hunger is a good antidote for even dirt. I am aware that few will think so except those who have tried it.

As I was passing one of the rooms, a man called me, and begged me to do something for him and others who were with him. No one had been to see them that morning, and they had had no breakfast.

About eight were in the room, among them Mr. Regan of Alabama and Mr. Eli Wasson of Texas, both of whom had lost a leg. I paid these special attention, as they were worse than the others. They were very grateful and thanked me all the time. Mr. Wasson said that he knew that he would get well now. They are both unmarried, and talk much of their mothers and sisters, as all men do now. 'Home, sweet home,' is the dearest spot on earth to them, since they are deprived of its comforts. Mother, wife, and sister seem to be sweeter to them than any words in the English language.

April 16th: Mrs. Ogden was completely worn out; and it is not much to be wondered at, as she, with the rest of us, has had to sleep in any and every place; and as to making our toilet, that was out of the question. I have not undressed since I came here.

April 17th: I was going round as usual this morning, washing the faces of the men, and had got half through with one before I found out that he was dead.

Mr. Wasson felt better, and knew that he would soon go home. I asked the surgeon who was attending him about his condition, and was much shocked when I learned that neither he nor Mr. Regan would live to see another day. This was a sad trial for me. I had seen many died, but none whom I had attended so closely as these two.

April 18th: I remained with Mr. Wasson all night. A child could not have been more composed. he told me how good the Lord was in giving him such peace and strength at the last hour. About 4 o'clock a.m. he insisted that I should leave him, as I required rest. He begged so hard that I left him for a little while. When I returned he had breathed his last.

Mr. Regan died this morning.

It does seem strange that, amid all the terrible scenes of destruction that we are daily witnessing, we think as little of death as ever, and act as if it was something that might happen to others, but never to ourselves. . .

Mrs. Lyons left this morning for home. She is very sick; and one of the doctors informed her, if she did not leave immediately, she would certainly die. I know the men whom she has been nursing will miss her very much, as she has been so attentive to them."

KC

~~~~~~~~
Death. It is inevitable that every nurse will have to face the death of a patient at some point. Even in the happiest of units, like mine, death sometimes comes and when it does, it is very, very sad.

Like Kate, sometimes as nurses we are so intent upon healing and helping, we forget that death can touch us as well. When a co-worker dies or has a serious illness, it seems all the more shocking for some reason, as if we never thought death could enter into our world of medication and treatments and health.

Some nurses choose to deal with death as a career, and for those special hospice nurses, I give a special tribute. I remember the hospice nurse, Debra, who guided us through my mother's death and even fourteen years later her expertise --but more so her caring--has left a tremendous impression upon my heart.

From a nurse who helps babies into the world, I give a special thank you to those of you who help guide patients out of this world.

Kneeling in Blood: Who Is Kate Cumming? Part 4

This series on Kate Cumming is dedicated to all those nurses who give of themselves to heal others. Your kindness, your touch, your wisdom and your unselfish dedication can never be appreciated enough.

To all my sister and brother nurses,

Thank You.

I have been fascinated reading Kate's diary. Separated by 150 years, there are so many experiences, so many feelings she writes that are still felt and witnessed by nurses today.

Excerpts from Kate's journal:

"April 11th: Miss Booth and myself arrived at Corinth today. We are at the Tishomongo Hotel, which, like every other large building, has been taken for a hospital. The yellow flag is flying from the top of each.

Mrs. Ogden tried to prepare me for the scenes which I should witness upon entering the wards. But alas! nothing that I had ever heard or read had given me the faintest idea of the horrors witnessed here. I do not think that words are in our vocabulary expressive enough to present to the mind the realities of that sad scene.

Certainly, none of the glories of the war were presented here. But I must not say that; for if uncomplaining endurance is glory, we had plenty of it. If it is that which makes the hero, here they were by scores. Gray-haired men -- men in the pride of manhood -- beardless boys -- Federals and all, mutilated in every imaginable way, lying on the floor, just as they were taken from the battle-field; so close together that it was almost impossible to walk without stepping on them.

If I were to live a hundred years, I should never forget the poor sufferers' gratitude; for every little thing, done for them -- a little water to drink, or the bathing of their wounds -- seemed to afford them the greatest relief.

The Federal prisoners are receiving the same attention as our own men; they are lying side by side.

I sat up all night, bathing the men's wounds, and giving them water. Everyone attending them seemed completely worn out. I have been busy all day, and can scarcely tell what I have been doing; I have not taken time even to eat, and certainly not time to sit down."

"April 13th: Enjoyed a very good night's rest upon some boxes. We all slept below stairs, in the front room -- our baggage separating us from the front part of it, which is the clerk's office, and sleeping apartment of some dozen men.

Some slept on shelves. I slept so soundly that I did not even dream, as I was completely worn out with the labor of the day. I could realize how, after a hard day's marching or fighting, a soldier can throw himself upon the ground, and sleep as soundly as if he was on a bed of down."

KC

~~~
What nurse among us was not surprised when we entered the "real world" of nursing? Training and instructors left behind, we were alone to fend for ourselves in a sea of patients hurting, complaining, dying and being born. While few of us will have witnessed the horrors that Kate saw, we all know what it is like to work hours upon end, without rest and without food.

I have never had to resort to sleeping on boxes, but hurricane seasons have required nurses in my area, and others like it, to come in and sleep in the hospital in whatever Image by sashamd via Flickraccommodations we could manage. One year, we turned an extra operating room into a sleep room for nurses.

Like Kate, modern day nurses sometimes often work longer hours than expected -- due to that heavier patient census or unexpected call in, or both. Sometimes, like Kate, we are literally on our feet the entire day, perhaps without breakfast, without lunch, sometimes without dinner.

The needs and safety of the patients must always come first. It is deep in the heart of the nurse to not only care for the patient, but to care about the patient. If that means personal sacrifice, the majority of nurses I know are quick to oblige. One line in Kate's journal seems to express the sentiment so completely:

"I have sometimes felt like making a vow to eat nothing but what is necessary to sustain life till the war is over, so that our soldiers can have the more."

Watching my fellow nurses, how they respond to adversity, how they pull together as a team to deal with emergency situations and how they support and encourage one another, makes me proud to be numbered among them. It makes me proud to be called a nurse.

Kneeling in Blood: Who Was Kate Cumming? Part 3

This series on Kate Cumming is dedicated to all those nurses who give of themselves to heal others. Your kindness, your touch, your wisdom and your unselfish dedication can never be appreciated enough.

To all my sister and brother nurses,

Thank You.

An Exerpt from Kate's Diary:

April 12, 1861 -- I sat up all night, bathing the men's wounds, and giving them water. Every one attending to them seemed completely worn out. Some of the doctors told me that they had scarcely slept since the battle.

As far as I have seen, the surgeons are very kind to the wounded, and nurse as well as doctor them. The men are lying all over the house, on their blankets, just as they were brought from the battle-field. They are in the hall, on the gallery, and crowded into very small rooms. The foul air from this mass of human beings at first made me giddy and sick, but I soon got over it. We have to walk, and when we give the men any thing we kneel, in blood and water; but we think nothing of it at all.

There was much suffering among the patients last night; one old man groaned all the time. He was about sixty years of age, and had lost a leg. He lived near Corinth, and had come there the morning of the battle to see his two sons, who were in the army, and he could not resist shouldering his musket and going into the fight. I comforted him as well as I could. He is a religious man, and prayed nearly all night. Another, a very young man, was wounded in the leg and through the lungs, had a most excruciating cough, and seemed to suffer awfully.

One fine-looking man had a dreadful wound in the shoulder. Every time I bathed it he thanked me and seemed grateful. He died this morning before breakfast. Men who were in the room with him told me that he prayed all night. I trust that he is now at rest far from this dreary world of strife and bloodshed. I could fill whole pages with descriptions of the scenes before me.

This morning, when passing the front door, a man asked me if I had any thing to eat, which I could give to some men the depot awaiting transportation on the cars. He said that they had eaten nothing for some days. Some of the ladies assisting me, we took them hot coffee, bread and meat. The poor fellows ate eagerly, and seemed so thankful. One of the men, who was taking care of them, asked me where I was from. When I replied Mobile, he said that Mobile was the best place in the Confederacy. He was a member of the Twenty-first Alabama Regiment; I have forgotten his name. I have been busy all day, and can scarcely tell what I have been doing; I have not taken time to even eat, and certainly not time to sit down.

KC
~~~~

What was it that made Kate so willing to endure such personal hardship, so willing to witness such human suffering, so willing to care and give care with almost hopeless odds of success?

One could suppose that she hoped in doing so she was somehow helping her brother's cause, who had enlisted in the Confederate Army months before. But I doubt that was entirely it.

One could surmise that it was because she fiercely loved her country, her adopted land and wished to preserve the way of life she had come to know and love. I don't doubt that some of that is true, we know Kate strongly identified herself as a Southerner. But I suspect there was something else there as well.

It is as simple as this. In her very heart, Kate was a nurse. A nurse has that deep within her which makes her truly, a nurse. Her statement, ". . .when we give the men any thing we kneel, in blood and water; but we think nothing of it at all," this is the statement of a nurse. How many nurses among us know exactly what Kate means by this? That moment when, unexpectedly, blood is splattered or spewn, vomited or thrown, gushed or dripped, all over you and you just know you can't stop, you just have to go on thinking "nothing of it at all".

Kate was a nurse, a dedicated, caring, good nurse.

Kate was a prototype for every good nurse today and an example for everyone who hopes to one day be a nurse.


We had the great honor this past Sunday, of placing roses on Kate's grave. We found some beautiful white roses that were barely tipped with red along the edges. Looking at them, I couldn't help but think of what what a nurses' white pinafore would look like as she walked along bloody halls.

Placing the small bouquet at her tombstone seemed like such a small gesture, but it was a big thing in my heart. It was a way of connecting me, 150 years later, to this nurse who was willing to give up her every comfort in order to give what little comfort she could, to others.

To everyone who wears the title, NURSE;
to everyone who sacrifices their own comforts for the comforts of others, and to our friend Kate,
I applaud your dedication and your devotion.