Born in 1950, I grew up in a lower middle class family.   I was raised by my mom, along with my 2 sisters.  Because mom had to work to support us, my aunt and grandparents helped us as much as they could.  I remember many a holiday and summer gatherings with many family members.  Although we were not well off, we were happy most of the time.  I was not a good student until my junior year in high school.  I was too busy bumming with my friends.  In my naive world during the late sixties, I was aware of things happening in our country, but was not an active participant.  I played at being in a garage band, worshiped the Beatles, played baseball whenever I could, was disinterested in politics, my heroes were my mom and my grandfather, whom I spent a lot of time with, working with him in the summertime.  I loved my 2 sisters, but found them to be a pain, sometimes, as they did, me.  Nothing different than most other families.  I knew I was loved, and life was good.  We were not wealthy, but we were happy.

 
me and my 2 sisters, 1955
i'm the one without the ribbons, on the right

 I have to say much of my life changed at the beginning of my 2^nd year of high school, September, 1965.  I noticed a swelling on my face the summer before while swimming.  I also had a slight headache and blurred vision all of the time.  My mom took me to our family doctor, who immediately sent me to a specialist.  After a biopsy, I was sent to a cancer hospital, American Oncologic Hospital in Philadelphia, diagnosed with a neuroblastoma in my sinuses and behind the eye.  No chemotherapy existed back then, but I had 30 radiation treatments to reduce the tumor, before having major surgery to remove the cancer.  I remember my mom talking with me the night before surgery. Telling me in a gentle way that I would loose my left eye in the surgery.  Being only 15, you can imagine how shocked and terrified I was.  I really didn’t comprehend how serious this all was, or that my life was threatened, but only that I was loosing my eye!  It probably was one of the hardest things mom had to do.  Surgery was scheduled for 7am the next morning, but I laid awake most of the night thinking about loosing my eye, could the large tumor be removed, and what the future would bring.  Holding my hand over one eye, I cried most of the night.  I awoke from the surgery late the next day, with my head covered in bandages.  I had survived surgery, which I found out later, was only one of the potential outcomes.  It was December 16^th.  My family was there giving me all the love and support possible.  Docs told me I would be in the hospital about 6 more weeks.  I’d already been in 3 months.  I wasn’t to eat or drink for three weeks to allow healing.  That was the longest 3 weeks I ever spent.  After all of the healing, more time in the hospital, and a long time at home, healing, I was allowed to return to school at the start of next school year, to repeat the sophomore year.

 I eventually graduated high school with honors, after changing schools.  I have to say, I had a completely different view on life, on school, and such.  My grades sky rocketed, I enjoyed my subjects, and believe it or not, I had my first girlfriend.  This was something I thought might never happen what with body image issues of an insecure 16 year old.  I even became the vice president of my class, and participated in the school play.  I wasn’t very good at acting.  I gained a lot of confidence in my self in other ways, was more accepted by my peers than I thought I would be, and started thinking about college.  College?  Although my family members were very smart and made much of their limited opportunities, no one had was ever able to go past high school in their education.  You know how sometimes you are affected by life circumstance?  After my recovery from cancer, I began working at the same hospital as an orderly, weekends and summers while in high school.  I loved it. I enjoyed working with all of the medical people, and especially all of the patients.  I decided after that experience that I’d go to nursing school and become a Registered Nurse.  Not an easy task.

 I had become friends with the school nurse.  She told me what I could expect in school, how difficult it would be, and asked was I ready to deal with issues of gender, being a male in a female-dominated profession.  Lots to think about.  Not sure that it was what I should do, I talked with anybody and everybody, especially family and friends.  I searched for nursing school programs, found 10 good ones and applied to all 10.  After much “hair pulling” and impatient waiting, I was accepted to 2 of them, who were the only two that were set up to take male students. Did I have the money for school?  No.  Neither could my family afford it.  It really wasn’t much money, especially compared to today’s costs for a higher education, but might as well have been a fortune.  Didn’t have it.  I took all of the pre-entrance tests, worked all summer to make some money, but wasn’t even close in fund raising.  I wrote to both schools, told them I could not attend because of funding, and asked them if I could re-apply for the next year, with the thought that I would work for that year.  I heard back from both schools, about the same time.  Hoping one of them would reconsider my application in a year, I was more than floored to be offered a scholarship to attend from both schools.  After reviewing both school packets, over and over, and further discussion with my mom and grandparents, I chose Philadelphia General Hospital, who offered a 3-year diploma program.  The scholarship was from the Women’s Auxiliary of the hospital.  Acceptance had some strings I’ll talk about later.

 I moved from home in New Jersey, to the dorm that fall, with excitement, fear, and enthusiasm for what the future might bring.  I was one of three men in the program, with over 70 other students.  Not much happened in the first year other than a lot of theory and some clinical experience.  It was intense, there were times I wanted to flee and go home, I was homesick and questioned my ability to pass all of these courses.  In order to pass pharmacology, you had to get a 90% on the final to move on to the second level.  It was math, my strong subject.  I got an 89%.  I had all of the answers right, but did not reach my answers the same as the instructor.  I had to do it my way, and paid the price.  After much anger and stubbornness, I finally was able to see the right course and passed.  My other “tuffy” was microbiology, the study of germs.  With long multiple syllable names of micro-organisms my instructor’s teaching methods included made up germ names by adding one or two extra syllables on her tests.  You better know your stuff.  The first test I took, I totally bombed.  I thought I studied good, but those extra syllables really threw me.  I had not studied enough, and didn’t know my subject.  I blamed everyone except me.  The instructor was the same as pharmacology.  I pay tribute to all of my instructors, but especially to Mrs. Jesse.  She prepared her students for the real world of nursing. I can’t thank her enough.

 My social life?  Not. I had a girl I was seeing back home but I was too busy trying to keep up with my studies and she was busy working to support her family.  I finally finished my first year and passed, just barely. My girl and I parted on friendly terms, just too busy to maintain a serious relationship. 

 Remember those “strings” I talked about?  As scholarship recipients, we were expected to attend an annual luncheon of the ladies auxiliary where we were paraded in front of the group. That was ok, although I was only 1 guy in a room full of women.  The most embarrassing part for me was the fashion show each year that most times included lingerie.  Although I really enjoyed that part, it was still face-reddening to be sure.

 After talking with my family, I decided to stay at school that summer and take a job in the hospital’s ER as a paid student. It was one of the best decisions for my education and my future, as I was to find out.  I had worked as an orderly the summer before, but as I discovered, the ER was a whole new experience.  My job mostly entailed running errands. I was too green to do anything seriously related to what I had learned that year.  I moved patients in and out, ran specimens to the lab, got extra supplies from central supply, and transferred patients from ER to the inpatient wards, xray and ob-gyn.  Once, I transferred an expectant mother at full term to the OB department.  I had done this a few times with no problem.  This time, she began to deliver right on the elevator, before I could get her to the delivery room.  Was I scared.  She was screaming from pain and fear of the unknown,  I was in panic mode, not knowing what to do.  OB was to be taught in my second year.  I crashed off of the elevator, bounced the stretcher off of the wall, and Bamb!!! Through the doors of the department, hollering for all I was worth.  The outcome was a positive one.  Mom and baby did fine. I recovered the experience and  went back to see her after a couple of days.  I was fascinated with the miracle of birth, and how beautiful a little human being can be.

 Another experience was different, much different.  We had an older woman come in screaming. We tried to settle her down, not knowing what was wrong, to no avail.  In the mean time, we got a call that an ambulance was coming in, with multiple injured patients.  When they arrived, we quickly found out why the woman was screaming.  Her daughter and children were caught in a house fire.  They didn’t make it.  She was the only one to make it out of the house.  I’ll never forget that horrible experience for her, and my first real trauma.

 The adventures of Willie Mac – I was told when I started in the ER, whenever all orderlies were paged to the ER, to expect a violent, combative patient that was either on the loose in the ER or was on the way in.  Most of the orderlies were large and muscular, and had to be, to do all of the physical work that I described above. They were also very nice people and cared about what they do.   Although shorter than most of them, I had some good muscle mass, and could handle most situations.  There were a couple of times we had to respond to an emergency, and I did ok.  They told me of one patient to watch out for.  His name was Willie Mac.  Sometimes he came in to the ER voluntarily, and sometimes came in by ambulance.  When he arrived and was lucid, he wanted 2 things – chloral hydrate (a sedative) and a ham sandwich.  We made sure we kept both in the ER, just for that purpose.  All was well that first year, until a new intern decided he needed to examine Willie prior to giving him anything.  This was most appropriate, however Willie didn’t see it that way. He went berserk.  Starting to harm the intern….the orderlies were called to assist.  Now you need to know, Willie was well over 6 ft. tall, weighed about 275, and had ham-fisted hands.  Normally, if properly medicated, he was a gentle giant.  He was standing in the middle of the ER, with just a hospital gown barely on, bare feet, and screaming, while holding the Doc with one hand.  He took the other hand and slammed it into the top of a square metal table that they used for instruments to do minor procedures.  He wanted his choral hydrate and ham sandwich.  He broke the table with that fist, one blow.  We managed to rescue the doctor, and then proceeded to get Willie what he wanted.  Later, we laughed about it, just envisioning the sight of it all.  The outcome was good, but could have turned out much different.

 My second year went more smoothly than the first.  I learned more, though I knew less than I thought I knew.  Instead of 4 days a week in class, and one day doing clinical experiences, we now had 3 days of class, and 2 days, clinical.  I found that I had a little more free time.  My “big brother” happened to be the president of the Student Nurses Association of Pennsylvania (SNAP).  A statewide organization of students and part of a national association, it was dedicated to addressing the educational and other needs of student nurses.  He asked me if I would like to join, and serve on a couple of committees, locally.

 I did so, and little did I know it would lead to meeting my life’s partner.  After about a year being a member of the nurses association, I was asked to go to the national convention in Dallas, Texas. As a group from the Philadelphia chapter, we pretty much stayed together, both at the convention and special events.  One of the events was a concert of folk music. I was by myself, as my assigned roommate had other plans with a girlfriend.  I sat with 2 other people, one of whom was a student nurse from Chestnut Hill Hospital named Mary. She was in the same year of schooling.  She was very attractive, and also very smart and engaging, although, like me, a little shy.  Frankly, I was not looking for a serious relationship, because of school obligations.  She told me she would not be marrying any time soon as she was enlisting in the Navy Nurse Corp, with the rank of Ensign, and her duty station would be the nursing school until graduation, then would be assigned to a naval hospital somewhere in the world.  It sounded very exciting for her, and somewhat dangerous. Remember, it was 1971, and the Viet Nam war was still going on.

Mary and her Mom

 I told her I had not made any post-school plans, but that I wanted to work for a while after graduation, get my feet wet, so to speak, and then make plans.  I didn’t think the military was an option, what with the loss of an eye, but even though they had just had the draft by lottery, I had a high number, and probably would not be drafted until after school.  With all that said, we just decided to stay with the group and have some fun, dancing and joking around.  One of the songs that stuck with us was “I’m in love with a big blue frog”, by Peter, Paul and Mary.  After the evening, I said good night and went back to my room.  Unfortunately, my roommate had the “signal”, a tie hanging from the doorknob, which told me he was occupied.  I had no where to sleep.  I wandered about for a while, then decided to knock on Mary’s door, and plead my case to her and her roommate to see if I could sleep on their couch.  We ended up sitting up all night, laughing and talking about school, family, future plans, etc.  The next morning we were a couple of real winners, no sleep, couldn’t see straight, not functioning too well.  The convention went for another day.  After returning to our schools, we began going out on dates.  We dated for over a year.  Happily, we got very close, and I asked her to marry me.  We’ve been together for over 35 years. She’s my lovely wife, my love, and my best friend.

 As my third and final year began, I was doing fairly well in school.  My grades were not as good as some in my class, for I was not near as smart, but I was good at the clinical side, and I really loved it.  I loved OB, orthopedics, surgery, and ER especially.  My favorite stories about third year are these.  I was working on my pediatrics rotation, having just finished OB.  I was getting ready to give pediatric medications on the unit that day.  I was nervous. Giving medications to children is so different than adults, having to figure in their weight, and many of the meds being in liquid form.  Not much sleep the night before from studying and nervousness.  As I walked on the unit and greeted my instructor, the power went out from a power outage.  I thought for sure, I would not have to give meds.  Wrong! My instructor stood behind me with a flashlight, carefully checking my doses for each child.  I gave meds that day, did ok, and all the children survived my attempt at being the pediatric medications nurse that day.  My other ‘war’ story was about delivering babies.  I was working still in the ER as a paid student.  My duties had been increased, and was now allowed to assist in getting patients ready to see the doctors.  I escorted a young woman back to the exam room, obviously to have a baby soon.  We were talking about this and that, and having just completed my OB rotation, I was asking her what I thought to be all the appropriate pre-birth questions.  As she stepped from the wheelchair up onto the stretcher, the baby slid to the stretcher and began to cry.  For the mother, it was her first.  For me, it was my first, unattended by a physician.  For the physician and the nurse on duty in the ER, it was their first.   I was not allowed to do first care on the baby.  We had a newborn treatment tray right there, so I stood behind the nurse and doctor and talked them through baby newborn care.  All went fine. I was thrilled to participate, thrilled for the mom and child, and just felt warm all over for many days to come.  It was a secret I kept to myself, for fear that there might be repercussions to the doctor, nurse or myself.

 I graduated, after completing my third year.  Not much fan fair there.  My family, Mary and her family attended graduation.  They all were proud.  I was excited to begin working.  I had proposed to Mary during our third year, and we were to be married later that summer.  Mary went off to Naval Training in Rhode Island and I went to work for Mary’s town as a municipal worker for the summer, lived with Mary’s mom and stepdad, and helped prepare for the wedding.  We were wed in the Navy Chapel on August 12^th in a small but very nice wedding, had a very nice reception, packed all of our stuff, and the next day moved to Maryland, just outside of Washington, DC.  She was stationed at Bethesda Naval Hospital in the Intensive Care Unit and I went to work at the National Institutes of Health on an inpatient cancer unit.  Believe it or not, I felt very prepared to jump right in as a nurse.  I was very fortunate to have such a dynamic education with a lot of clinical and leadership experience from the nursing school. 

 Do you remember the movie, “Boy in the plastic Bubble”?  It was loosely based on several patients around the country, at that time. On this unit were special patient rooms that had laminar air flow (LFR) units installed.  Each room was self contained, providing an almost sterile environment for the patient. This was all brand new treatment for some types of cancer, and was the start of experimental chemotherapy.  There was a young man who was admitted to one of the 3 LFR rooms the same week I started.  This young man was one of the patients on which the movie was based.  I had other patients to care for, but this experience working with this young man was a most memorable one.  I could write volumes on the interaction I had with this young man and what I learned in caring for patients.

 After a few years, Mary and I went to work at a small community hospital, made some wonderful friends, and eventually moved back home near Philadelphia to be closer to family.  Mary worked at her usual specialty, ICU, until they asked her to design and lead a brand new Surgical ICU.  It was a large unit and she devoted many hours planning and creating a top notch place.  We called it “her baby”, and she did a wonderful job.  As with all things, she parted from the unit, but then became an editor with a publishing firm, writing nursing books.  She even had my grandmother pose for the cover of one of the books on geriatrics, and besides editing, she herself would spend time in their photo studio as the model nurse demonstrating nursing procedures.  Those books while out of print now, they are still out there on the book shelves, and still relevant today.

 We each worked at different hospitals and different jobs for over 7 years, but then decided we wanted to move to a much less stressful environment, and began looking for an older home to fix up.  Mary’s mom and sister had moved to a very rural area on the Eastern Shore of Virginia.  Knowing that Mary wanted to live closer to her family, we looked for property in that area.  My mom and step-dad lived in Philadelphia, close to his family, in an even a more stressed area then us, but we knew we would only be a few hours drive from them if we moved to Virginia.  We found a beautiful run down home in Onancock, Virginia. 

market and north streets in town

It was a very large Greek-revival style, which was a real fixer-upper, but with much potential.  We were in our 30’s, had a lot of enthusiasm for tackling such a project, some home improvement skills, were willing to learn, and the house was affordable to us.  Probably the only one that we could afford, that wasn’t falling down, nor had 3 feet of water in the basement when it rained.  It was the early 80’s, we were about 10 years out of school, we were ready, so we bought it.  Our families thought we were both nuts.

 We started work at the local area hospital at less than half of the salary we were making before, and people were telling us that the cost of living was much less than where we came from.  We quickly found out that the property taxes were lower, but everything else was higher. We really struggled for a few years.  At first, we had not sold our old home, so we carrying two houses.  We decided that Mary would stay at our new home, and I would go back, stay at our old home, and get my old job back to help our financial situation, until the old house sold.  As you might imagine, in a small community, the tongues were wagging.  One funny story about this time – our new place was poorly heated, and we had a very cold winter.  Mary went to be one night with a glass of water next to the bed, crawled under the heavy blankets, with our dogs for company and heat.  When she awoke, the glass still had all of its ice, plus the water was frozen.  Now that’s cold.

after much love and toil....

 The old house finally sold after about a year, and I moved back down to our new home. We settled into a good life once again.  We both worked full time, all shifts, many weekends, etc.  She worked at her specialty of ICU, something she had done, since graduating.  I worked in several areas of the hospital – medical, surgical, the operating room and the emergency room.  I loved them all.  I also worked as the relief evening nursing supervisor for a while.  By this time we had both worked for about 20 years in clinical nursing.  We gradually worked on the house restoration.  If you’ve ever done this, you know it takes time and money.  We either had the time and no money, or when we had the money, we had no time.  A lot of sweat equity, boy!

 We were both restless, again.  We did not wish to leave our cherished home, but after 20 years of shift work, so many weekends, and not always seeing each other, but for brief moments, we were ready for a more normal work schedule.  Mary found a good job as a patient education specialist, and I took a job as clinical director at the local NASA facility.  Working days and having weekends off was but one benefit.  We both loved our new jobs, and threw ourselves into them.  There ended up being one interruption to our changing careers. After Mary “retired” from active duty in the Navy, she went active reserve, and then inactive reserve, when there was no unit close by with whom she could do her drills.  It was almost 20 years since her last duty, and then in 1991 Desert Storm began, and she was recalled to duty. They called her at 3pm on a Sunday and told her to report at 0700 the next morning.  Not much time to set things in order, or to say good bye.  Our biggest fear was that with her ICU experience and her high rank she would end up going into the war zone.  The war had just begun, and no one knew what to expect.  She came back home the next day, expected to report for duty, the next day, to Portsmouth Naval Hospital, replacing regular duty staff, that were shipping out.  Although difficult, we felt better that she would be staying stateside.  Little did we know that she would be living in a “warzone” in Portsmouth.  The first night in quarters, she had no phone, and her next door neighbor was assaulted in her own apartment.  I got her a baseball bat to keep next to her bed, when she slept.  She worked 12 hour on and 12 hours off, for her entire duty.  Although not at the war, she worked very, very hard and had to deal with a difficult, very unsafe neighborhood.  I missed her, and it was very difficult and depressing for her.  Although doing her duty, she hated the politics of it all.  After many months, she was discharged again.  The only good thing from all this, was that we saved almost all of the money she made for the new kitchen that she was planning when she got home.  We still enjoy her wonderfully designed kitchen, that we mostly built ourselves..

 After I was at the NASA base for a little more than a year, I was approached by the contractor to leave the NASA facility and become the clinical director for a large multi-site rural health care system.  I did this for over twelve years, had a dynamic boss, who also became a friend.  I did many things while there, much of it new, and a real challenge for me.  The organization grew from 8 physicians, and 30 staff, at 3 facilities, to about 20 or so clinical staff and about 100 employees at 5 sites.  We installed a network of computers that linked all five centers, and I assisted in that effort.  I learned to write grants that supported the needs of many patients, and worked with many, many fine people. It was a great experience.  I became the go-to guy for the computers in the organization, because I loved it so much, and soaked up all the knowledge that I could. Remember when I said earlier that mom and grandfather were my heroes growing up? My hobby of computers and learning all about them probably came from my Uncle Evan.  His career was mostly about computers, the big ones that filled whole rooms and whole buildings.  He was in on the ground floor, so to speak, with cartloads of punch cards, and large tape drives, etc.  He took me to work one day when I was in my early teens, and I was mesmerized.  I was quite impressed by it all, and with him and what he knew.  It inspired me in the early 80’s to get a Tandy TRS-80 as my first computer.  Mary got interested, also.  As computers grew in ability and usage, so we too expanded our knowledge.  We continue with computers, Macintosh for her, pc for me, graphics, web design, and so much more. I guess, too, you could say it’s in the family blood.  My cousin, Patty, has a career in computers, much like my Uncle before he retired, and many of our family members are into the digital age.

 During this period, about 1993, we decided to have a foreign exchange student.  After making application, we anxiously waited to here if we would qualify, and if we would get a student.  We finally heard that we would be fostering a female student from Sweden.  She was 16 years old, and her name was Jessica.  We went to the airport to pick her up, where she flew in with several other students.  Once she was settled in at home, we got her registered at the high school, and she began her American experience, which lasted for almost a year.  She was a wonderful young woman, bright, and so full of life.  It didn’t take us long to bond with her, and thought her to be like a daughter.  There were a few bumps for her, while she was here, but overall we all had a really great experience.  When she went home, it was hard to let her go, but we still stay in touch.

jessica with her parents at graduation from university

 In my eleventh year (1995) with the company, Mary and I were in a car accident.  We were struck by an older driver.  I lost my leg almost loosing both of them, but fortunately Mary only had minor injuries.  She ended up doing so much of the day to day home duties, and so much more, especially during that first year of recovery.  I was relearning to walk, had major pain and fatigue issues, and struggled with getting my new prosthetic leg to fit.  We had to rearrange how we could do the “chores” and we worked hard for me to return to relative normal, either on my prosthetic leg, or from a wheelchair, both of which I depended every day.  I was fortunate to be allowed to continue my job after about six weeks, from my wheelchair, and continued my duties for about 2 more years, but chose to “retire” because of constant leg pain, nor could I keep up with the physical demands of the job.  It was taking its toll on both of us.

 In the mean time, Mary found a wonderful business that was for sale.  It was a mail order company selling nature crafting supplies that had been in business for about 25 years.  Mary helped them computerize their ordering system. Tom Thumb Workshops was very successful, but the owners were ready to retire.  Grace and Charles were two wonderful people, with very interesting backgrounds, and were good folks we enjoyed just spending time with.  We moved the business closer to home, with the help of dear friends, and watched as Mary at first struggled with doing this new business, before she learned the ropes, and then it started to blossom, and then took off. 

tom thumb workshops

She quickly outgrew the space we had for her, and moved the business to much bigger space that included retail space.  Her sisters would help her on and off, especially at busy times, even her mom tried to assist were ever she could.  Vicki, her mom was so great in offering her advice, from years of working to support 3 girls and a home.  She was so proud of “her girls” and what they had accomplished over the years.  She was a very caring, loving and very giving person.  I also tried to help Mary as much as I could from my wheelchair, and did much to support the business, while at home.  I wasn’t able to do much physically, but would try and go to the shop and sit with her, greeting her local customers, and offer any help I could.  We all know about September 11^th. We all know about the anthrax scare right after.  Mary’s mail order business took a nose dive, from the fears that people had having anything sent to them in the mail.  We really struggled.  After about a year of struggling, a friend of mine came to see me.  He mentioned that he was looking to sell his custom framing business and retire eventually to Florida.  I mentioned it to Mary.  With her sister’s past background in custom framing, we thought it might be a good fit for her, for the 2 sisters to buy the business and expand Tom Thumb Workshops.  Mary did her homework, was very thorough, and felt this was a good thing to do, with minimal risk, and a low cost.  Her mom thought so too, and helped with the initial acquisition.  Market Street Framers was started.  The mail order continued to decline, no matter what she did, marketing, new products, mailings, etc.  She had over 400 products listed in her inventory and in her catalog.  It became difficult to keep all of those items on hand in case someone might place an order.  With the custom framing, she got better and better, quality was excellent, and customer pricing was good.  Her client base began to grow.  Its now 2008, framing and her art gallery are now 99% of her business.  She is very, very busy all of the time. Her sister, Carol, continues to help were she can, and the business continues on its merry way.  She has some good repeat clients, some corporate clients, and new pieces come in all of the time.

Me?  If you read My Journey, you know about my brain stem stroke.  If you’ve not read it, do so at your convenience.  It’s been 36 years since Mary and I met, and sang along with a song about a blue frog, that jokingly has become “our” song.  We’ve had some bumps in the road.  She’s stuck with me all these years, and I love her so very much.  I have much to be thankful for.  Who knows what’s next, but as long as she’s with me, we’ll find happiness, if only in the small things.

Thanks,

Evan

 

a happy Christmas time....

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