The Terror of Grace New Haven

What didn't please the adults was waking up in the middle of the night to an infant needing feeding, AND a 3 year old who could not breathe........  Terrified, Dot and Chuck left the two small boys with their grandparents and trundled Beth to their pediatrician's office. The doctor recognized the seriousness of the situation and sent the two frightened parents and their child to the Emergency Room of what was then called Grace New Haven Hospital in New Haven. Doctors there were able to stabilize Beth's breathing with the aid of an Oxygen Tent and adrenalin. It was determined that Beth had asthma and she would need testing to determine what had caused the allergic reaction that had triggered the asthma.

 In the following weeks, it was found the allergies were to ragweed, pollen, housedust, and 'timothy' - or common grass. Beth would need weekly shots to help her build up immunity to these very common allergens. This was a rather large blow to the young parents. In the early 60's, asthma was a disease about which little was known. Patients, especially those whose bodies were still forming and growing, did not have the best chance of surviving - and less, it was thought, in the humid climate of the Northeast. 

Doctors urged Chuck and Dot to move west to Arizona or New Mexico where the air was far drier. It was thought that the humidity had an adverse impact on mucous production. While the young couple would have done anything for their children, they did not feel that moving so far away from family would be a wise thing to do. Could they guarantee Chuck a job? What if Beth needed care? Who would they depend on if not her grandparents. They would need to be extra vigilant to ensure their daughter even survived. This also meant that Chuck and Dot would have to save for a little bit longer in order to purchase a home of their own. 

There were weekly clinic visits to pay for, medications to be bought and scheduled into each day like Quadrinal to keep the bronchioles open and a cough medicine to relieve congestion. When all else failed, there was a green powder called Dr. Schiffmann's Asthmador. This over-the-counter remedy, containing belladonna and stramonium, was exceptional at relieving the bronchial spasms of an asthma attack. You put a small portion into a fire-proof bowl or on tin foil and lit it with a kitchen match. This powder sparked and gave off a thick smoke which one inhaled into the lungs. 

While no one using this for its intended purpose in its intended method ever got 'high' from it, at some point in the mid to late 60's, teens discovered the hallucinogenic effects of this medication when NOT used for its intended purpose and began rolling it into cigarettes to smoke for the 'high'.  In the 70's, with the advent of newer bronchodilators such as ventolin (prescription) and primatene mist (OTC), this medication, sadly, went the way of the dinosaur. 
Many of these medications have side effects which were then unknown, such as stunting the growth or development of the young body, or over-stimulating the patient and making them 'nervous'. Some grew introverted and quiet. Some loud and overly boisterous. 
 
(borrowed from Yale School of Medicine Archives.  original may be found here. )
 
There were also many trips to Grace New Haven Hospital's Emergency Room and week-long stays in the Fitkin Building. In those days, the main hospital was three sided with a lovely courtyard and fountain in the middle of the rear.  At Christmas, the hospital would stop the water in the fountain, and place a huge Evergreen tree over it. This was decorated with lights for the patients and staff enjoyment. Each of these buildings had a name. If one was facing the front entrance, the Fitkin Building was to the left, Tompkins Pavillion was to the right. The center was known as the Clinic Building, faced the courtyard. The actual front was the Winchester Building located on Cedar St.  Surrounding the courtyard side of the Fitkin and Tompkin pavillions were porches which ran the entire length of the pavillion. Several of the windows were actually large doors leading out onto these porches - however, children were not allowed out there as it was thought that these were unstable.
The first two floors of the Fitkin building were for Cardiac and Critical care. The next 3 were pediatric units. Each of the pediatric floors were laid out in the same way. At the head of the hall was the nurses station. Off of that, there was a quiet room for doctors to write their reports. Then began the patient rooms. Closest to the nurses station were the private rooms for patients who were critically ill. A little further down were semi-private rooms for less critically ill patients. Near the end of the hall were the open wards. These rooms had either 4 or 6 beds. At the end of the hall, there was a large, brightly decorated, open room with windows. There were many toys, sometimes a piano, games, dolls, and books that were donated to the hospital (or bought by nurses). There was also a television in this room - this could be turned on for programs like Captain Kangaroo, Bozo the Clown, or Romper Room. If a child was ambulatory, they could spend time playing or watching television under the watchful eyes of parents. 
About half way down the corridor, there was a supply room. This room contained linens for the beds and medical supplies - medications, medication cups, emesis basins, bath basins, an autoclave for sterilizing medical instruments (which were not disposable in those days), bedpans and an assortment of other supplies. 
Frequently, in the hustle and bustle of the day, one could find wheelchairs left outside some of the rooms. There were large wooden ones, small wooden ones, and the newer metal chairs.. some locked, some did not. 
Interestingly, the supply room was usually not kept locked. The "Employee's Only" sign was, for the most part, obeyed. There were, of course, exceptions to every rule. Beth, that precocious 3-year-old, was the exception. She COULD read - and certainly enough to know that the sign meant for her to KEEP OUT. However, most children of that age would not have been quite that literate. There was also a red line in the corridor just outside the nurses station. This line was for the children to stay behind. They were NOT allowed to leave the floor unaccompanied by an adult - preferably a hospital staff person or a parent.  
From the time that Beth was 3 until will after her 7th birth day, she spent at least a few weeks in every year on one of the 3 Fitkin floors. The nurses alternately hated and loved her. If there was mischief, they could be certain that she was most likely in the middle of it. Wheelchair races were one of the chief time-occupiers among the young patients. They traded them back and forth until they got the one they liked the best - and raced from the red line at the head of the hall  to the large dayroom at the end. While this was not exactly the best occupation for children, it was tolerated for a short time each day - usually until the first 'near miss'. Then the nurses would have the wheelchairs all removed from the floor by orderlies. 
Since Beth was receiving weekly injections at the clinic, she became familiar with the hospital layout. She had made friends with some of the radiologists on the second floor. She also befriended some of the kitchen help on the fifth floor. And the secretary at the Pediatric Clinic - Corrine. And Miss Lally - the head nurse at the clinic.  And the nurse who manned the steam room on the third floor. And then there was a craft center on the fifth floor that was used both for occupational therapy and keeping children occupied with a crafting project. Ice cream sticks (tongue depressors) were used to build many things like baskets or small houses. These were decorated with uncooked macaroni shells painted in water colors. While Dot spent all the time she possibly could with her daughter, she could not be there all the time. She still had two very small boys at home to care for. Margaret and Frank made multitudinous trips to spend time with Beth. As did Edna, Dot's oldest sister. Chuck and Dot always came at night and stayed until visiting hours were over. But - there were times when there was no one, and while Beth made friends with other children, she much preferred the company of adults. She could often be found in the radiology department, or in the steam room or even visiting Corrine. The staff on the floor she was SUPPOSED to be on often had to look for her if she was needed for a treatment. 
Sometimes, Beth even decided when she was well, much to her doctors chagrin. One such decision came on a crystal clear day in February. As the doctors were making their rounds, they came to the large 4-bed room to check on their patients, only to find Beth riding a blood pressure machine like a scooter. One young doctor, trying his level best to be an authority figure, asked her if she had been told she could be out of the oxygen tent - which was still draped over her bed and running............ The reply came as quick as could be, "Yes, my doctor told me I could and they are coming soon to turn off the oxygen tent and remove it." And off she rode on her makeshift scooter before the frazzled young man could open his mouth to utter another word! 
At the age of 5, Beth had the worst asthma attack of her young life. None of the traditional practices or medications worked to relieve the symptoms. Chuck spent all night with her in the Emergency Room, pacing and worrying while Dot was at home with the two boys doing the same.
The year before, Yale School of Medicine had rewritten their working contract with Grace New Haven Hospital, renaming it Yale New Haven Hospital. Grace Hospital was already a "teaching hospital" with a 3-year nursing program and an affiliation with Yale School of Medicine which went back many years. This name change made the affiliation more easily recognizable. 
With a teaching hospital, frequently, procedures are done which are new, or just new to a particular disease. Such was the case this night - in order to allow better air flow, it was thought that a tracheotomy might help. Surgeons could then run a small tube down the trachea, attach it to a large oxygen tank and force pure air into the lungs. The procedure was accomplished and had the desired effect of alleviating the respiratory failure. 
A tube in ones trachea can make it quite difficult to talk or sing, both of which Beth did incessantly. In true chatterbox form, though, she quickly overcame this difficulty, however, she only allowed a few folks to know that she had. This allowed her the element of surprise with other folks, such as the doctors that made their rounds..... and some of the nursing staff. An unsuspecting staff member would ask questions about her health for their charting to which Beth would respond in a whisper. When the staffer was turned to leave, Beth would speak a cheery, "See ya later!". The staff member would turn in surprise to see Beth engulfed in giggles! 
Another time, a night nurse came to give Beth medication. She gently tapped the door to Beth's room which was slightly ajar and in a stage whisper, asked, "Are you awake?" To which the child responded in a voice as dripping in acidic disdain as her 5-year old larynx could manage, "I wasn't - but I am now!".

The coup d'grace that earned her the title of "Terror" was slightly post blood-pressure machine riding.... Well on her way to recovery but not quite ready for discharge and hyped up on the epinephrine cocktail of the day (epinephrine was the base of most early asthma treatments), the ebbulent child recruited a cohort from the next bed who was at much the same point in her recovery. These two decided that they should like to be on the proper side of the needle and become doctors. They drafted an almost life-size doll from the day room to be their willing (and very patient) patient. Of course, doctors require supplies to treat their patients, don't they? So, our two would-be physicians slipped down the hall and into the supply closet. There they found a treasure trove of supplies such as can be found in any good doctors office. Linens, bedpans, thermometers, alcohol wipes, bandages, and......... of course, every good doctor must have a syringe to administer needed medications. After holding their breath and ears to the door, they slipped quietly out of the closet and back to their waiting patient. Along the way, they acquired a wheelchair and a blood pressure machine - all of which they hauled in and quickly drew the curtains around the patient and themselves. 
They busied themselves attempting to discern what was ailing their placid patient by taking her temperature and getting her blood pressure. This done, they scratched their heads and determined that whatever disease this was would most certainly need to be treated with a shot of .............. hum... well, ginger ale would have to do! Beth whipped the syringe from its packing and attempted to withdraw ginger ale from the cup drawing up the plunger as she had seen her own doctors do. Barely had she gotten the "correct" amount of "medicine" in the syringe barrel than her "hospital" was "raided" by the current head nurse of the floor - a Miss Lally by name. 
Miss Lally attempted to be the understanding accomplice at first, allowing the girls to help themselves to such supplies as they wanted, however, syringes were strictly off-limits as they could get very hurt. The young ladies looked quite contrite and agreed they would not take any more. 
Leaving them on their honor, Miss Lally returned to her duties. Of course, it wasn't too long until our young doctors decided that pills (applesauce) and drinkable medicines (old ginger ale) were simply NOT going to save their patient. They MUST be able to fight her dreaded disease with medicines which could ONLY be given by injection. 
Once more, they went up the hall to the supply closet - this time, openly. After all, they HAD been given tacit permission to do so. Boldly walking in, they took more bandages and other assorted items. Hidden in the bandages, of course, was the very necessary needle.
Proceeding back to their "hospital room" and drawing the curtains once more, our daring duo attempt once more to inject the correct amount of ginger ale into the arm of the doll.....   This time, they heard the squeeking of the nursing shoes on the linoleum floor and hurriedly hid the needle in the drawer of the metal nightstand. Miss Lally drew back the curtains to two very guilty-looking young "practitioners" and asked what they had taken. They, of course, replied that they had only taken bandages. "See???", they said - displaying the bandages for the nurse. "Very well.", replied Miss Lally. 
And left.
They heard her shoes squeeking up the linoleum hall.
They thought. 
They also thought they had successfully retained the needle and pulled the wool over the nurses eyes - which overjoyed them to no end.... Laughing delightedly, they returned to medicating their patient. 
And then the curtain was pulled back quickly! There stood Miss Lally who had not left at all. Facing Miss Lally with a stunned and very guilty looks on their faces were Beth with the syringe dripping ginger ale, and her companion.
Three strikes. 
Beth was OUT.
Never again was a supply closet left unlocked and the "Terror" was born. 

New Day, New Blog

The Intellectual side of a Dragon is always good to share. However, sometimes, even Mother Dragons do not want to be very intellectual. Sometimes we want to be just plain people with off-beat thoughts and ideas.
We even have a past, a present, and we hope for a future both for us and our offspring. (Sometimes, though, our offspring are just plain uncooperative with that future thing.) 

At the 'double nickle' stage of my life, my memories of yesterday are crystal clear while the memories of five minutes ago are often foggy. Yes - I can remember back to infancy but please do NOT ask what I had for breakfast today because if it wasn't coffee - I have no clue what it might have been! 
So, this new day, I am creating a new blog. For my first post, I would like to go back in time.... a very long way..............

Come with me now, back in time, to a 3-family house on Dixwell Avenue in Hamden, CT. - where the Acme Plaza now stands. The house was owned by an older woman named Mrs. Baldino. She lived on the first floor and rented out the upper two floors. On the second floor lived a young, single mother with her two boys.

The third floor was rented by a newlywed couple who lived there with their first child. The handsome, young dark-haired man is an Army veteran who was using the education portion of the GI bill to obtain his BA in Accounting at Quinnipiac College. The fresh-faced, lovely, and even younger bride is not truly ready to be a mother but ready to fly her nest. In those days, there was only one acceptable way out of "the nest" for young ladies - and that was to marry. This is what she chose. Along with marriage, of course, comes motherhood. The baby, a girl, had been born on a Tuesday evening in late spring. She was an easy birth and welcomed on both maternal and paternal sides of the family as she was the first "grandbaby" offspring of both. 

This third floor walk-up apartment that was unbearably hot in the summer and frosty in the winter. It had a small yard with an almost hidden path in the back which led to a marsh. In the yard there was a swing set made of metal. Charles, the young husband, had an older blue-gray Peugeot Sedan that he used to travel to work and school. The wife, Dorothy, did not yet drive. Fortunately, just as many neighborhoods in those days, all she needed, grocery stores and the like, were within walking distance. 

A little bit about the families of Charles and Dorothy.......... Herbert, Charles' father, was in a sanitarium for tuberculosis patients. In those days, this was an incurable disease and sanitariums were as hospice's are today, places where folks were made as comfortable as possible until their spirits left their physical bodies. Charles' mother, Lillian, still lived in the family home in Westville - a section of New Haven, CT. Sadly, for many years, she was a very heavy drinker. Charles had one older sister - Joan.

Dorothy's family came from New Bedford, Massachusetts. Dorothy's mother, Margaret, was a very strong woman - life had made her so. As the oldest of 8, Margaret was responsible for all the younger siblings. In fact, she was more mother to the youngest, Helen, than sibling. 
Prior to Margaret Corcoran's birth, Father and Mother Corcoran emmigrated from Ireland to Boston, MA. Father Corcoran bought several properties around the Boston area and rented them out. Young Margaret was sent out to collect the rents as Father Corcoran was frequently too inebriated to collect them himself. Her mother worked as a seamstress to supplement the rental income. Father Corcoran was not a nice man when he imbibed - which he did often. Margaret grew very intolerant of inebriation after so many years of living with Father Corcoran. 

Eventually, Margaret met Thomas, a fine young man of Swedish descent who had served in the US Navy. Thomas Francis Anderson preferred to be called by the diminutive of his middle name - Frank. They married and set up housekeeping in New Bedford, MA.
Frank had not had an easy childhood any more than had Margaret. He was forced to leave school at 9 and work full time to keep the family financially afloat. As an adult, he eventually found permanent employment with "The News" company. Eventually, Frank was promoted and moved to another paper, The New Haven Register and the Journal Courier by name. This led him to move his family to the New Haven, Connecticut area where the offices of these papers were located.  Dorothy was the youngest of their family with two older siblings by the names of Edna and Eileen. 

On a hot June day in 1957, in the well-kept back yard of Margaret and Franks house in West Haven, CT,  Charles (Chuck) took Dorothy (Dot) to be his wife. Dot, despite being the youngest, was the first of the three Anderson girls to be wed. Chuck and Dot had a delightful time honeymooning on Cape Cod and in the spring of 1958, Dot presented Chuck with their first offspring - a baby girl that they named Elizabeth Ann. Truth be told, Dot did the naming. Had Chuck had his way,  Elizabeth would have been Deborah. 

Back to our third floor walk up, Dot cared for her infant daughter while Chuck worked and went to school. Chuck's handwriting was atrocious - so, they had invested in an Underwood Typewriter on which Dot typed Chucks thesis papers in between washing diapers by hand. In 1960, Chuck graduated from Quinnipiac College with a BA in Accounting and a minor in Computer Science. He found a wonderful job at US Electrical Motors in Milford, CT. 
Chuck and Dot eventually moved back to West Haven to Dot's parents home in West Haven  both to save wear and tear on Chucks older Peugeot and to save money for a home of their own. 
It was during this time of many people under one roof, the middle Anderson sister, met and married a wonderfully caring and quietly intelligent man by the name of Joseph Coppola. The reception was a small affair held in an adjunct room at the church. The family discovered, much to their chagrin, why it is not a good idea to have a child at a reception. The bride had a lovely 3 tiered wedding cake which was well and duly sampled (well, at least the frosting was) by the only child in attendance. The cake received a "two-thumbs-up" from the small sampler. 
 In June of 1961 - 2 days after their fourth wedding anniversary, Dot had her second child - a son. They named the new addition traditionally - after his father and grandfather.  Charles Herbert took his place in the crib in Chuck and Dot's room in the Anderson homestead. Elizabeth was moved to Eileen's bedroom as Eileen had moved with her husband to a home in North Haven, CT. In August of that same year, Eileen had her first, Patricia.
June of the following year saw the birth of Dot's third and last child. By this time, Elizabeth was a precocious 3-year old who had found her voice along with a vivid imagination. She was oft heard singing (loudly) the chorus to the song "Mrs. Murphy's Chowder" or "Won't You Come Home Bill Bailey". Sometimes, a little TOO precocious.......   While in the hospital after the birth of the third boy, Dot called home. After to speaking to her mother for awhile, she spoke with her daughter Elizabeth and told her that her new baby brother's name would be Donald. The 3 year old responded, "OH - you mean Donald Duck is my brother?".  Somehow, I can't imagine that was among ANY of the responses Dot might have imagined coming from her pronouncement. 

Elizabeth, or Beth, was a quiet sort of child most of the time. A loner who preferred the company of animals or her imagination over other children. She could create a story in her mind whose imaginary pages told a tale that lasted the entire day....... a story of Indian Princess's and their faithful horse or deer companions.  A deceased squirrel could (and did, much to Dot's dismay) become a napping pony, a branch became a spear or a bow and arrows.
The majority of the human company she spent time with were adults - they accepted her curious traits - and often encouraged them. She learned quickly - which pleased the adults, and could read and write the basic words of a grocery list before beginning kindergarten.  
When they had lived in the 3rd floor walk up, Beth had a walker which she learned how to propel quite speedily getting exactly where she wanted to.................... backward. Never forward. Only backwards ...... This too pleased the adults - in an odd way.