So started my nursing years when I was taught to think and look after other people. For three months we were in “The Pink”, that meant I was on probation, being taught five days a week full-time the introduction to basic care, lots of writing, reading, learning the rules and expectations. No practical ward work only demonstrations by playacting, tests, tests, and even more tests. It was full on and the three months went by very quickly.

Then one day we were no longer probationers. We were all accepted to be junior nurses. Wow I had achieved something, no matter how minor. We were allocated into a ward and I found that my trial and tribulations had begun. My job was mainly behind the scenes, cleaning up the pan room, patient locker tops and over the bed trolleys, scrubbing commodes, giving out breakfast, drinks and assisting with the pan round. No actual saving of lives and that courageous stuff. I was on the lowest rail of nursing ladder and it was a long way to the top.

The bed trolleys and locker tops must be clean, clear, and only the bare essentials must be on display, nothing on the over bed trolleys especially on doctors’ rounds. The doctors were the gods and must be treated accordingly. It is not the juniors’ job to speak to them and should a doctor visit the ward the juniors should just run to get the Ward Sister immediately. Everything had to be spic and span and if it was not then I was in trouble!

Naturally patients wanted to use bed pans outside of round times and if an unsterilized one was found on the shelf, even though the sterilizer was in use, then I was in trouble. I was never fast enough for the Ward Sister. I tried hard but could give no satisfaction, when giving out drinks at breakfast I was too slow, too chatty. The harder that I would try the worse the situation got.

It appeared to me that everything I did was wrong and there was no way I could please her. Every day it was the same, I was being told off about some or all of my performance but worse was to come when she would pull me aside for a chat.

It seemed my work performance was not all that was wrong with me. No, not by a long shot. It was me, myself that was wrong. I began to believe that she had decided even that early on that I did not have what it took to be a good nurse and worse I began believing it myself. During these chats she would ask me about my personal history. I had never discussed it with anyone, not even my friends as I was ashamed of being an orphan. She expected answers immediately and I became incapable of conversations.

What normal person didn’t have parents? How could I explain that to anyone and hold up my head with dignity and poise like Sr Mary Lawrence had taught me to do. It was pushed to the back of my mind. All the work that Sr Mary Lawrence had done was being unravelled by the ward sister.

She just kept picking at me. I have never come up against such insistence. It was endless, I would be in trouble yet again. I became even more withdrawn and even less capable of communication. I had experienced sackings before, but I did not know about resignations therefore it didn’t enter my mind to leave. I just went on hoping for a better innings, but they got much, much worse.

I was giving out morning tea for breakfast and I was pounced on by the ward maid, she told all the staff that the Ward Sister had died on her way to work and turning to me said it was my fault I caused her accident. One of the other nurses said that the Ward Sister and Ward Maid were friends off duty and tried to comfort me by saying that I wasn’t responsible. I was utterly stunned I realized the Ward Sister and Ward Maid must have discussed me over the last few weeks. I was very sorry to be a pain to anyone but to be blamed for a car accident and a death was just too much for me.

I didn’t cry but I had no one to really talk to, I felt no one cared what happened to me. I had yet to make real friends at the hospital and I didn’t know what to do. I came to realize that I couldn’t really be to blame as I was not important enough and shortly after this event I was transferred to another ward.

What a difference in attitude! I was given some patient jobs and life was much better. I remember no-show of dislike or distain. I was happy doing any work that was expected of me, doing it on time and with care and more importantly planning and forethought.

I still got into trouble on occasions but nothing serious, routine acceptable telling off, corrections, statements of fact and not of disdain. As soon as my error was pointed out to me, I rectified it. We stayed on each ward for a three-month period and then moved to another ward. There were three hospitals under their flag of the Canterbury District Health Board, Christchurch Hospital, Princess Margaret Hospital and Burwood Hospital, so us trainees I had a period at all three changing our accommodation accordingly.

During my four years of training in Christchurch I nursed three girls from the Nazareth House orphanage. The first girl by the name of Francis. I have mentioned her before, came in as an emergency, multiple stab wounds to neck and body. I was the junior on duty although I haven’t seen or heard of or from her, I knew her straightaway. She also became headline news. As I was so junior, I did not have anything to do with her nursing and I only saw her that day. The rule was that staff couldn’t visit the wards once they are off duty except with matron’s written permission.

I had two days off duty and although I enquired, I learnt nothing about her condition until I went back on duty and found she had died. Sadly vanished. Her ex-boyfriend was charged with her murder and assault on her current boyfriend who was lucky enough to survive the attack.

The second girl came in for investigations of abdominal pain. Abortion. The pain had subsided, and she was given toilet privileges and allowed to be up and about with assistance. I helped a more senior nurse take her to the toilet and then stayed with her during the process. She passed urine and we thought that she had evacuated her bowels but when we tried to stand her up, we saw some old blood and a tiny baby. We called a sister and she took charge. The poor girl was in shock. We assisted her back to bed and the doctor was called while we awaited the passing of the placenta. She remained in the hospital for a further week or so and I tried to talk with her, but she wasn’t interested in getting to know the older me. She recovered well and then after a few days vanished again.

When I was working at the Princess Margaret Hospital in Cashmere, the third Nazareth House girl came in for a routine appendectomy and was discharged after about ten days. Ten days was fairly routine at that time as the patient had to wait for the removal of stitches.

None of the three had visitors that I can recall whilst I was on duty. The Nazareth House nuns had discharged them from their care, and none had parents. The same sad fate of an orphan’s life, no support around them.

I realized that I was the lucky one. I had someone pay for my education so that my life could lead me in a more positive direction. I had the opportunity to fit in the right environment at Sacred Heart and to grow without fear and anguish. I had found a purpose and companionship was around me. Yes, indeed I was the lucky one. Thank heavens.

Three years were done and passed. I passed all my exams, tests, demonstrations, show and tell of all equipment used by nurses. Yes, I had now settled into nursing life and enjoyed it. A nurse’s life is not just about being on duty, so many girls, invitations to attend, meeting up with boys, going on outings, on dates. Life was just so great and lots of fun. My fourth year when I was doing a plastic surgery course at Burwood Hospital in the north of Christchurch when I met and went out with a boy by the named Bill Carr. He was nice, accommodating but when he initially tried to kiss me, I refused. I didn’t feel that way he was very patient and maybe too so.

The relationship lasted about six to nine months off and on it was not exclusive. I remember wrecking his car whilst he was teaching me to drive but there was no angry outburst. Just a display of tenderness and concern. He took me to his parents’ place where he still lived, and I was received and welcomed with great kindness from all the family even though it was a Sunday night dinner.

When he took me home, he tried to kiss me again, but I refused. Shortly after we had a conversation, he telling me that he would like to take our relationship more seriously and I saying I didn’t think I was the right person for him and so it ended. Although I like him very much there was no added spark and so I was upset by losing a friend not heartbroken by losing a lover! Vanished.

Whilst I was at Burwood Hospital, I remember hearing the news, that John F Kennedy, the President of the United States was shot whilst in a touring car with his wife Jackie. She was covered in his blood. The whole world was in shock… we were all horrified. They were a very famous couple worldwide, a good man gunned down; and so, my interest in world affairs was born.

In November 1964, I graduated with three certificates maternity, general and plastic surgery. I met a nurse called Heather, I think she was doing maternity and we were on friendly terms but not best mates. Her course ended two months before mine and she invited me to go to Australia with her and her friend and I said I would follow them after my course finished.

I told Heather I was on my way, and caught a boat to Sydney, being seasick all the way. Heather introduced me to the Repatriation General Hospital in Concord for my first stint there. This was one of several Repatriation General Hospitals set up by the Commonwealth Government around the time of World War II to cater for returned serviceman. The various Repats were initially set up as Army hospitals before becoming Repatriation General Hospitals administered by the Repatriation Commission now known as the Department of Veterans' Affairs.

It all worked out wonderfully, Heather organized the interview, I kept the appointment and was approved with an instant start. No problem!