xt702v2c9507 https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt702v2c9507/data/mets.xml The Frontier Nursing Service, Inc. 1953 bulletins  English The Frontier Nursing Service, Inc. Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Frontier Nursing Service Quarterly Bulletins The Quarterly Bulletin of The Frontier Nursing Service, Inc., Vol. 29, No. 2, Autumn 1953 text The Quarterly Bulletin of The Frontier Nursing Service, Inc., Vol. 29, No. 2, Autumn 1953 1953 2014 true xt702v2c9507 section xt702v2c9507 Gibz V V V
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BOUNCE—Our· last militar 'ee
J P
On the Wendover Road 1 ‘
In the Winter of Old Age
I
Il
*1
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I
THE QUARTERLY BULLETIN of FRONTIER NURSING SERVICE, Inc.  
Puhlishml Qu:1r1,¤·1·1y hy the Frontier Nursing S+:rvi<:·e, L·~xin;;t.oN*1·1ER NURSING snnvxcn 5
V TOO MUCH PIG
f by
, KATE IRELAND, Cleveland Courier
    Illustrated by Kitty Biddle, Long Island, N. Y., Courier
  If you think Betty Lester’s story about Louise, the two-
  month-old pig, was good wait ’til you hear this one. Hobert
, Cornett and I had to take the 725-pound Duroc sow—Edna,
  Duchess of Wendover—-to Lexington to market. We took a
  departing guest with us and had to put all of her luggage on a
S4 platform over Edna’s head. This definitely aggravated Edna,
{ who spent the first half-hour trying to dislodge the platform
it and remove all the luggage, but luckily in vain. Then she dis-
. covered that the platform provided a good shade, so she sought
5 other games to play. The spare tire was tied by a heavy rope
  to the back of the cab. By the time we reached Manchester,
  Edna had severed the rope, and from Manchester to Tyner she
  played football with the
i { 7, h tire. This made the driving
ji; ` ,J’ for Hobert very easy! Only
4   725 pounds running around
  gp,   Q © in the back of the truck,
  \` /,  jk-5 and She always scored a
  r` Q TR ' / goal as we were going
  °‘* `· `Z‘§_J€\ 6% around a curve!
   /_( ,4   After all this exertion,
  ( O // I Edna settled down for a
g   nap. She couldn’t have been
ig quieter until we got to Lex-
  _ ington. But, she being a
  country sow, the city noises
were strange to her and
—_ she woke up to observe the changes. First we had to go to the
$$1 railroad station to unload the luggage of the guest. By this time
I it was noon and Edna’s sunshade was not much help so, after
  a half-hour of driving around Lexington, Edna decided to unload
_ herself.
  ` Just as we were turning off Main Street, Edna knocked the
  extra boards off the back of the tail gate. Immediately Hobert

 E; 
6 THE QUARTERLY BULLETIN  
leapt out of the cab to the back of the truck to keep Edna in, .§
while I made a 500—foot dash down Main Street to retrieve the
lost boards. i.
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Hobert said, "Keep her away from the tail gate while I get  
the hammer." I
I waved my arms once. Edna waved her snout twice! Then  
I yelled for Hobert. He got back just in time to save Edna and j{
me from rolling down the street together. Q,
After this it was I who went for the hammer. Luckily, I  
found two—one with which to nail the boards back on and one, `
a wooden mallet, with which to keep Edna at bay. It may sound
inhumane to hit a pig on the head with a mallet, but 725 pounds p
of mad pig has to be controlled somehow. While Hobert tried to Q_
V pound the boards, I 3
  ( hung on to the side {
»" Y y f . g
_ , , , ‘ / boards trying to pre- §
" ' - ' { vent Edna from rais-
( { W `
·      ing the truck bed. But 5*
/ g J)   - Q f Edna’s weight being  
Q » greater than mine, I  
J #2 , f d . .
.\__ ` U \ oun myself bemg  E
*$_' __ \,, lifted three or four _ i
" ‘ ( feet into the air. An  I
  · amusing spectacle it  
must have been for  i
the onlookers! After fifteen minutes of holding up all the Lex-  

 ll  .
  _ 1·~RoN1—1ER NURSING smnvxcm 7
_ ington traffic we got the boards nailed on after a fashion. But
l Hobert had to ride in the back with Edna to keep her from
  tearing up the truck bed. We got her safely to market where
5 she sold for the highest price of any pig this summer! That
j made our trip worthwhile.
\ Hobert and I didn’t really care if we never saw another pig,
bl but arrangements had been made for us to bring home a new
~£• Edna from the University of Kentucky Experiment Station. Mr.
ll Spurrier at the Experiment Station insisted on showing us all
j his experiments in pig raising, so we found ourselves in the
f middle of a pasture with fifteen pigs rubbing against our legs.
$, The new Edna, a Hampshire, weighing only 265 pounds, was so
  well-mannered and friendly that she renewed our faith in pigs.
l But still we were very happy when she was unloaded and in her
  own pen at Wendover.
l When I went to the kitchen for my late supper what did I
i find but pork chops!
°l
zl  
3 I COW, SOW. and MOW l
  Look lo the cow,
  ancl the sow,
  and the wl1eaf—mow,
  and all will be well enow.
  English Proverb
 

 8 THE QUARTERLY BULLETIN  ,
TAKING OVER A CENTER  
BETTY ANN BREIBSBURY, R.N., c.M. ll
Relief Nurse-Midwife at Margaret Durbin Harper Memorial Nursing Center  ·_
Bowlingtown, Kentucky ,~
People have often asked me why I wanted to leave my  
"comfortable" city-bred life to come to Kentucky; wild and un- I
settled, rough and remote; to endure the hardships that living 7,,
and working in an area so "uncivilized" must necessitate. It i,
always amuses me when someone asks this question, because  
I never know whether to tell them the truth, or to make up a  A
fantastic tale. I confess, I most frequently have an uncontrol-  
lable urge to make up a fantastic tale——not only because it gives  ,
me sadistic pleasure to see incredulous people become even more ?
incredulous, but really because the truth is dear to me and is so  ’
rarely understood by these well-meaning, but certainly curious i
individuals. Frequently I find the attitude: "Well, I certainly  _
admire you for the work you do, but I could never do it myself"  
—-or, "Don’t you miss the social and cultural advantages of the P
city? Don’t you get lonely and bored? !" And, of course, there’s Q
always the feeling: "You must be crazy—throvving your life  ‘
away in those hills!" But what makes up for all these misguided  ’
attitudes, is the more frequently than one would suppose one:  
"I’ve always wanted to do what you are doing! Please tell me _ l_ 
about it, I’m so interested!" And then I give vent to my stored-  y
up beautiful truth, forgetting entirely, at least for the moment,  
any thought of a fantastic tale.  ,
Bowlingtown is the lovliest of all centers! This is true,  1
naturally, because for the present, I am the nurse here, and I .
think so. The house (including my living quarters and clinic)  I
and the barn and chicken houses all sit on a hillside, looking  A
down on the road, and beyond the road rolling corniields and _* 
pasture land and beyond this, the Middle Fork of the Kentucky ` 
River, which, in spite of the dryest spell Old Aunt Leona (thinks  
she’s in her 80’s "somewhar") has ever seen, still has water in H
it. Behind and above the house and out-buildings is the pasture ·
where Missy and Lacey (horses), Flossie (cow), and Caliband ,¤
(mule) graze and frolic. The rise is rather steep and the hill l
goes up several hundred feet beyond the pasture before it  i
levels off and goes down again. I thought the view of the  
l

  Q
 I FRONTIER Nnnsime smnvicn e s
  countryside from the house was magnificent, but from the water
 i tank in the upper corner of the pasture, the view is breath—taking.
  I was up at the water tank the other day with Matt Barger,
 V; checking on my water supply (fortunately have plenty), and
  seeing about fixing the water pipes for winter so they won’t
  freeze (that’s another story in itself !)—and Matt noticed my
V3 exclamation at the view——"Mrs. Breckinridge almost had the
·’f center built up here," he said, "but she thought it’d be too hard
 ] on the mothers to pack their children up this hill." So the
E;  center is lower down for the convenience of the mothers. (I
 ` wonder if the mothers realize this!)
 _ Catastropic happenings of earth-shaking importance seem
A to happen every day and "What do I do now?" has become my
 » most often repeated phrase. (It is said with resignation, more
s like a phrase than a question!)——I never realized I was so
j ignorant—it was a shock. So that the greatest "hardship" (if
 V such must be the case) I must endure, is that of my own mad-
4. dening ignorance. And gradually but slowly, I’m learning won-
;  derful new things—?about woodstoves on which to cook, about
 — barns and horses and bott flies, about dogs (2), cats (5), cow,
 i` mule, rabbit (just one) and the parrot. The nurse for whom I
  am relieving while she is on her vacation, loves collecting ani-
_  . mals. As a friend told me just recently, "This is the nearest
 ~ thing to a zoo I’ve yet seen." Especially is this apparent at
ig , feeding time when the parrot is squawking, the dogs barking,
 , the cats meowing and the other animals making their customary
 { noises. Only Mabel, dear Mabel (the rabbit) remains quiet.
. I am learning about oil lamps when the electricity fails,
 i about spark plugs, thermostats, distributors, radiators and stub-
  born jacks—three times, so far, I’ve had to change "iiats;" about
  priming the water pump when the pressure fails due to lack of
" electricity; about cow feed and horse feed, cow hay and horse
l hay, et cetera, et cetera. Think of the vast store of knowledge
  I’ll have acquired by the time I leave herell (I have been in
· charge of the Bowlingtown Center exactly three weeks, and `it
,' appals me to think of the time when I shall know "what to do"
Y in the instances of my frequent emergencies.) My mother re-
 ` cently wrote me that a friend of hers had a postpartum inversion
i of the uterus and very nearly lost her life. "It worries me so to

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 4
10 THE QUARTERLY BULLETIN  
 l
think that you might be faced with such a problem," my mother  
wrote; but I hastily answered that she should immediately cease  
worrying about my handling of humoms; my emergencies occur  
when anything goes wrong with animals or things! (I didn’t tell  
her that uterine inversion happens only rarely, and that it’s the  3
least of my worries at present.) l
Last week, my maid, Molly, ran to tell me that Flossie had J
got one of her horns stuck in a chain on our fence gate, and had {
torn her horn badly. "What do I do now?" Matt Barger (who  
was fixing the sawdust bin that day) and I found Flossie with  
her horn indeed torn, actually an irreparable mess. (Something  
that I have learned: cow’s horns have blood vessels and nerves  .‘
that run almost to the tip of them.) Poor Flossie. Realizing  ‘
that something must be done, I looked at Matt. "They’ll have to  {
come off," said he. Should I call Wendover and talk to Jean about  
it first? But I can’t—there’s no phone—but Matt seems to know  
what he’s doing and certainly we can’t leave Flossie in that  .4
condition. "Will it hurt her, Matt ?"—"It’ll hurt her worse, sure,  _
to leave them on." Q.
"Will she bleed much, Matt ‘?"  I
"Right smart !" V.
"They have to come off ?" r `
"Yep, fer as I can tell." _ 
So-—we got another man and Ford Barger’s clippers—and  
Matt clipped her horns while the other man held her. While I  -g
frantically tried to find the pressure points behind her ears, the  Q
other man poured flour on the stumps. I was worried.  
"H’aint never see’d a cow die yit from clippin’ her horns,"  ,§_
he said. "Yes, but there’s always a first time," I thought. How  
dreadful it would be for Jean to come out and iind Flossie dead;  
or for Olive to come home and find Flossie gone. What would l
I do‘?! And, besides, I’d become awfully fond of dear Flossie, V
too, as well as of her milk and butter.  
"Don’t ye worry about ’er——she’ll be alright," they kept  
telling me. So I watched Flossie go off to the pasture when we  
let her go, looking quite sad and hurt, as if unable to understand  
why we had done such a thing to her. I tried to clean off the  ,]
stumps with peroxide, but Flossie wouldn’t let me. So I watched  g
her for a few days and saw that the stumps were healing well  
{
A

 3
 »
I
 I
 l
  1=·RoN·r1ER Nunsmc snavicis. 11
 g and were not infected. And, now F1ossie’s as iine as ever-
  only she looks a little out of character without her horns and is
  giving less milk.
  The other day, I foolishly left the barn gates open—I shall
`* never do that again, because it is embarrassing for a nurse
  to be left standing stupeiied in the dust wake of her horses as
(j they go gaily galloping down the road, thoroughly enjoying their
i prank and their unaccustomed freedom! Not knowing exactly
 Y what to do, I started impulsively to run after them, but sagely
,-  saw the futility of that. Then as I started toward the barn
·_  instead, to get a rope and a bucket of oats——(not knowing ex-
_,  actly what to do with them, either) I gratefully heard the
 .1 neighbors shout, "Don’t you worry honey, we’ll git ’em for ye!"
[  —and then as an afterthought, "That poor little new nurse . . ."
  Sure enough, one kind man went after Missy and Lacey and
.  headed them back towards the center—and when they came
 _; near enough to me, I lured them back in with the oats and
 I quickly secured the gate behind me. I had a moment’s shock
il when I looked up in the pasture and could not find Flossie or
 . Caliband. Visions of wandering about the countryside, looking
 ° for a stray mule and cow, danced through my muddled brain,-—
1 one more thing to add to my embarrassment. But, upon closer
 Q scrutinization, I found Flossie and Caliband in the far corner
 ·, of the pasture, completely unaware of my anxiety and even more
  unconcerned.
 ·; My life, however, is not entirely devoted to animals, garden,
  jeep and household affairs, as one might suppose. Occasionally
Lgi I am called upon to minister to the sick, bolster up the healthy,
  and "catch" new babies—and this, I must confess, is mainly
  why I am here. Bowlingtown district covers a large area, lots
. of it navigable by jeep, but some of it definitely requiring a
j horse—and of course the weather has a great deal to do with
  one’s mode of transportation. If the river is up and a jeep
I  cannot cross, then it’s by horse or by boat and foot, as the case
  may be. So far, transportation has been no problem for me,
S since it is so dry, with practically no water in the river and
 ,l, creeks. But there are still many "hollers" and mountain trails
 l that must be taken by horse, although it is amazing where jeeps
{ can go and what they can do.
r
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 l
12 THE QUARTERLY BULLETIN  
li
Midwifery is my Hrst responsibility and a delivery call takes `  
precedence over anything else. S0 far, since I’ve been at Bowl-  
ingtown, I have not been fortunate enough to catch a baby——but ,,
I have four prospective mothers due now and I am looking for- i
Ward to attending them. They are all normal, healthy mothers— rl
one a primipara—and have all had successful, encouraging re-
ports from our Medical Director, upon their one doctor’s exami-  
nation, required of all our expectant mothers at some time during _ ‘
their prenatal period. Olive gave these women thorough prenatal  
examinations once a month until the seventh month, then every  ig
two weeks until their ninth month, and I have been checking ° 
them weekly. I have visited their homes and have found, for  
the most part, satisfactory conditions for delivery. Mostly all  ;
I need is a table for my equipment, a bed for the mother, a fire  i
in the stove and some water! It is rare that one does not iind  
at least this much in a home, but I suppose I could manage with- “
out the table or the bed! These mothers-to-be are all living by 
within the boundaries of my district and so will be seen every
day for ten days, following delivery, then once a week until the  *
baby is a month old. Then at six weeks the mother and baby  q
see our Medical Director for their six weeks examination. Fol- V. 
lowing this the baby is seen at regular intervals to insure good `
follow-up care.  `
When there is little sickness to occupy my time (which  
has, unfortunately not been the case since my arrival) I make  Q
health visits to each family with children, in order to check  ,[
their general condition and to check whether the tiny ones have  
had their diphtheria-pertussis—tetanus inoculations and the  
older ones their typhoid "shots." The nurse usually takes care  »V ?
of the older children and their typhoid series in the schools  
and in that way can give inoculations en masse. However, I’ve  ,
been very busy with "colds," mumps, whooping cough, measles, .
cuts and abrasions, sprained appendages and numerous other  ·€
complaints, so that the health visits will have to be put off for
a while. I have really been concerned about the fact that hardly _'
anyone seems healthy in my district now! (I took a jeep load  
of my neighbors with me to Hazard during a Red Cross Blood  iq
Bank drive, to give blood, and I ended up by being the only one  i
eligible to give!  
 

 l
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  Fnoumimn NURSING smzvicm 13
\   I hold a general clinic here at the center once a week, on
TZ Wednesday, and another clinic, in a home on Gay’s Creek, for
4 any out-of-district patients who wish to see me, on Fridays. Our
i out—of-district prenatal patients are booked for hospital con-
il finement, but they come to the district nurse for their prenatal
visits until time for them to go to the FNS Hyden Hospital for
I delivery. Of course any abnormal patient, whether in or out of
be district is sent to the hospital where they can be near to the
  doctor for delivery.
I  On the other days in the week, I answer the many sick
  calls that come in and make the rounds of my district, going
 ’ in different directions each day. One of my favorite spots is a
 ? lonely trail along Turkey Branch—and I know the few families
  who live along there are tired of seeing me for I go up there ~
  often, on the slightest excuse! It is unbelievably beautiful. The
 l trees are truly magniHcent——-tall stately beeches and graceful
 _ maples with evergreens, mostly spruces, sprinkled here and
there. Very little logging has been done in this section, and the
 if homes are sparsely scattered. It is like a state park, yet un-
 , marred by human attempts at improvement.
VY  As I was riding along Turkey Branch the other day, I was
 . delighted to see a huge bird spread its enormous wings and iiy
, from one tall beech to another. As it settled I saw that it was
 S an owl, and a grand—daddy, if ever there was one! He looked
 `Q wise and uniiustered as Missy and I rode by, and seemed some-
  what superior as if he knew his home were more beautiful than
  ours, and his life far more peaceful. But, I felt that he did not
  mind our intrusion because we appreciated his home as he did,
 ‘.   and sensed the peace that he felt.
 Wl One of my neighbors told me, off handedly, today that my
I chickens were roosting in a tree outside the chicken yard. I
 _, merely said, "Oh," not knowing about the roosting habits of
 V chickens. She looked at me, queerly, and said, "Well, aren’t you
• going to clip ’em`?"—-“Oh, 110," I thought, "D0n’t tell me some-
  thing else has to be clipped!!" And so I learned tonight that
 if one must clip the wings of chickens if one expects them to roost
 F in one’s chicken house.
  And who knows what is in store for me to learn tomorrow?
 

 14 THE QUARTERLY BULLETIN  
a
NEW EYES FOR THE NEEDY .
by {
MARY ANN QUARLES
Jess: I
Jess was first reported to our social service department 1.
about four years ago by the Wendover district nurse. He was  f
nine at the time and had severely crossed eyes. He was only in l 
the second grade at school and could not advance any further fi 
because of his poor eyesight.  
Right after his case was reported to us, New Eyes for the  {
Needy, Inc., sent the social service department a fund to provide  ‘,
glasses for those children in our area who needed them. Jess  
was one of the very first to profit from this fund. He was taken  l
to the oculist in Hazard where his eyes were examined. Glasses  .
were given him that corrected his vision close to normal. He  -
was able to go to school regularly and keep up with the other  {
boys and girls. He goes back to the oculist for a re-check gl
every year, and now his eyes can be corrected to 20/20 vision.  
He continues to go to school and is looking forward to going to
high school in another two years.
Ray:  ,
Ray is fifteen now and has always been the studious member Z
of his family. His father is dead, so his mother has had to keep .
the family going on their State Welfare Aid. There has been no
money for extras.  
Ray’s eyes have always been badly crossed which, of course, _, 
has hindered him in school. The social service department, ;
through New Eyes for the Needy, Inc., has been providing Ray  
S with glasses and regular yearly check-ups at the oculist. This
has enabled him to do the thing he most wants—go on in school. l
Next year he will start his sophomore year in high school and
he is hoping to continue until he finishes. Q
l
D

   FRONTIER NURSING sE1¤.v1cE 15
3 OLD COURIER NEWS
A Compiled and Edited by
g AGNES LEWIS
  From Celia Coit, Pacific Palisades, California
I —September 16, 1953
1, Coit-Lane, the store, is no more. We had a big closing-out
 { sale which was an enormous success-——we never had to advertise
5  at all, just sent out 400 cards to old customers. One week later
{  when the stock was really depleted, a very nice couple from
  Montreal asked about buying the business. We were so delighted
 { not to have to clean up the tag ends and not to be stuck with
 ‘, our lease which ran another year that I said it’s yours. Now I’ve
  moved down the coast to Pacific Palisades. This is near Santa
 l Monica and the