hospitals, smaller numbers of patients come to The Vue (and other city- and county-supported institutions), and it is, therefore, easier to keep up with them.
But now with New York City’s desperate financial problems, it can be predicted that the other part of the equation will also diminish, and that there will be fewer nurses, aides, and messengers employed at The Vue in the years to come. My humble suggestion to meet this crisis is straightforward: when internship and residency candidates are interviewed for positions, talk to their wives and girlfriends (or husbands and boyfriends) as well. A newly created volunteer position of house-staff helper would improve both the efficiency and the morale of the doctors at The Vue, to say nothing of patient care. I’ll testify to that at firsthand.
By the way, there’s an epilogue to the story of Myra’s Bellevue career. Eight days after she left the hospital for the last time, she entered University Hospital, right next door, to give birth to our son. When the moment arrived, it was discovered that the mirror which allowed women to watch their own deliveries was out of whack; the screw holding the adjustment mechanism was loose so the mirror couldn’t be properly positioned. All obstetrics ceased while a screwdriver was located, the offending screw tightened, and the mirror adjusted to give Myra an unimpaired view of her nether regions. Only then did the obstetrician apply the forceps, turn the baby, and extract him.
“Was it really worth it, having everyone running after screwdrivers like that?” I whispered to Myra as the obstetrician was removing the placenta.
“Darn right it was,” she said emphatically. “I finally got to see a Kielland rotation.”
3
Of Bums and Camel Drivers
The Bowery is the section of New York City which centers on Third Avenue below Fourteenth Street. During the late nineteenth century, it was the fashionable dining and theater area of the city, but that didn’t last long. Before 1900, the place had already acquired a reputation as a locality where a citizen stood a pretty good chance of having his phrenology redesigned with a blunt instrument, and his wallet liberated. From that point, it was no time at all until the Bowery became New York’s Skid Row, a collection of sleazy flophouses and greasy lunchstands where the sidewalks were littered with newspaper pages, broken bottles, nasopharyngeal oysters, and puddles of vomit. Thus it has remained to the present, inhabited by men (and occasionally women) who wander through the streets in alcoholic fogs, usually alert only to the likelihood that the next guy to nudge them in the ribs and say hello will be the skinny fellow in the black cape with the grinning face.
Such were the Bowery Bums, perhaps the principal customers of The Vue in the early 1960’s. Their needs were many and varied, which was not terribly surprising. Basically, they were a bunch of guys who spent most of their time in the great outdoors, all year long.
In the summer, they had relatively few problems. The wards at The Vue were quiet, and the new house staff had time to learn their way around the hospital. Occasionally, one of the bums would be brought in with assorted fractures after having been hit by a car, but generally, things were peaceful.
By October, the leaves and the bums began to fall. An open doorway for a bed, and a newspaper for a cover, did not offer much protection from the New York winter winds and the cold, and the Bellevue ward population began to increase. By December, the natural elements and a diet of occasional bottles of Thunderbird wine combined to produce a full house at The Vue. In January, when even the healthy ones couldn’t take it anymore, we were filled to capacity and we put ’em in the hallways, on the rafters, two to a bed, or anything else we could think of. This continued till March, when it began to let up a bit. By late May, Bellevue was quiet again, permitting the old hands
But now with New York City’s desperate financial problems, it can be predicted that the other part of the equation will also diminish, and that there will be fewer nurses, aides, and messengers employed at The Vue in the years to come. My humble suggestion to meet this crisis is straightforward: when internship and residency candidates are interviewed for positions, talk to their wives and girlfriends (or husbands and boyfriends) as well. A newly created volunteer position of house-staff helper would improve both the efficiency and the morale of the doctors at The Vue, to say nothing of patient care. I’ll testify to that at firsthand.
By the way, there’s an epilogue to the story of Myra’s Bellevue career. Eight days after she left the hospital for the last time, she entered University Hospital, right next door, to give birth to our son. When the moment arrived, it was discovered that the mirror which allowed women to watch their own deliveries was out of whack; the screw holding the adjustment mechanism was loose so the mirror couldn’t be properly positioned. All obstetrics ceased while a screwdriver was located, the offending screw tightened, and the mirror adjusted to give Myra an unimpaired view of her nether regions. Only then did the obstetrician apply the forceps, turn the baby, and extract him.
“Was it really worth it, having everyone running after screwdrivers like that?” I whispered to Myra as the obstetrician was removing the placenta.
“Darn right it was,” she said emphatically. “I finally got to see a Kielland rotation.”
3
Of Bums and Camel Drivers
The Bowery is the section of New York City which centers on Third Avenue below Fourteenth Street. During the late nineteenth century, it was the fashionable dining and theater area of the city, but that didn’t last long. Before 1900, the place had already acquired a reputation as a locality where a citizen stood a pretty good chance of having his phrenology redesigned with a blunt instrument, and his wallet liberated. From that point, it was no time at all until the Bowery became New York’s Skid Row, a collection of sleazy flophouses and greasy lunchstands where the sidewalks were littered with newspaper pages, broken bottles, nasopharyngeal oysters, and puddles of vomit. Thus it has remained to the present, inhabited by men (and occasionally women) who wander through the streets in alcoholic fogs, usually alert only to the likelihood that the next guy to nudge them in the ribs and say hello will be the skinny fellow in the black cape with the grinning face.
Such were the Bowery Bums, perhaps the principal customers of The Vue in the early 1960’s. Their needs were many and varied, which was not terribly surprising. Basically, they were a bunch of guys who spent most of their time in the great outdoors, all year long.
In the summer, they had relatively few problems. The wards at The Vue were quiet, and the new house staff had time to learn their way around the hospital. Occasionally, one of the bums would be brought in with assorted fractures after having been hit by a car, but generally, things were peaceful.
By October, the leaves and the bums began to fall. An open doorway for a bed, and a newspaper for a cover, did not offer much protection from the New York winter winds and the cold, and the Bellevue ward population began to increase. By December, the natural elements and a diet of occasional bottles of Thunderbird wine combined to produce a full house at The Vue. In January, when even the healthy ones couldn’t take it anymore, we were filled to capacity and we put ’em in the hallways, on the rafters, two to a bed, or anything else we could think of. This continued till March, when it began to let up a bit. By late May, Bellevue was quiet again, permitting the old hands
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