The Responsibility Of Working At The Hospital Essay
I had been extremely grateful for the position I had, as an auxiliary nurse, these past few days. It had been a valuable excuse to leave the house where Mother constantly criticised me for rejecting wealthy suitors. My ethics were to marry for love, not for the importance of rising in social status. The responsibility of working at the hospital was challenging. Victims would arrive, in truckloads, in a state that suggested that they had just come from the battlefield, even though they hadn’t.
“How are you feeling this morning, Tom?”
Tom had arrived in early September, suffering from the effects of Mustard Gas. He lost his sight, his left leg and memory of life before the war. Tom’s story had spread around London, however, no family claimed him. The injured soldier lay still in his bed. A bandage hugged his eyes, and shaggy, brown hair. His breathing was gentle, any other nurse would assume he was asleep, however, after having cared for him for the past six weeks, I had mastered his practical jokes.