CHAPTER IX.
I Receive My Diploma for Nursing from St. Vincent's Hospital—Trouble Among the Sisters.
Hundreds of people take trips like Sister Rita and I took in 1907 every year and there is nothing said about it, for it is only a common trip for the people of the world. But for two nuns in their garb to travel from one side of the continent to the other, and from the north to the south, on a trip like this, is extraordinary. In all my sisterhood life, I have never known any other two sisters to go on such a trip. I have known them to take longer trips, some of them to Europe, but always on business.
Once more at the hospital where we had spent so many years in drudgery, the smoldering pride and natural ambition which had been suppressed and rudely beaten and forced into oblivion, came from the hiding place with renewed vigor. We realized that a great something had taken place within us. We could not see things in the same light as before. The trip had been educational for us, and the knowledge acquired had driven deep into our hearts the conviction of the truth with such power that we found a terrible battle raging within us—Romish convent "rot" on one side and light on the other.
What were we to do? We had no homes, no place to go to live the remainder of our earthly sojourn; we had served the best part of our lives for the Roman institution and were no longer young; our health was not the best; helpless from every point of view, it was a plain case of go to work, "for better or for worse."
It was impossible for us to believe opened-eyed the foolishness of all the silly superstitions we had so long lived, and yet from it there was no escape, as it was by rule and practice and demand, compulsory. We talked it over and realized that we stood in need of a remedy to counteract the wiles of darkness—neither allopathic nor homeopathic prescription could accomplish this for us, and we knew from experience that the Romish priest could do nothing for us as he was the fountain head of the darkness and ignorance, except perhaps administer a spiritual emetic in the confessional. So we just took up our part of the work as tools, grinding for the Roman machine.
Naturally, the conditions at the hospital were the same as they had always been, but the great change that had taken place in my life caused me to be more independent than I had ever been before. I saw that the treatment accorded the sisters, doctors, nurses and patients was not right, as well as they knew it. They soon realized the degree of independence I had delegated to myself, and I was overburdened with complaints of the wrongs that were going on. Not that I could directly correct the irregularities, but that I might have some influence with those in charge of the workings of the institution.
At St. Vincent's there were sixty sisters—simply women—in whose hearts existed the same aspirations, cravings and desires inherent in all human flesh. There were those sisters with their whole heart and soul perfectly sincere in their religion. Others who were the schemers, intriguing in the most cunningly devised plans imaginable, workers of iniquity and the greatest injustices in the guise of religious show. To your face this class would be so sanctified, always saying prayers and looking to heaven, but when your back was turned, they would step on you, trample you under their feet, or knife you to attain their end, and that they might be glorified and exalted in the eyes of their companions and superiors. The outside world will never know the real meaning of the word "scheme" until they have the opportunity of seeing the hellish plottings of a sister-schemer.
It is only natural that a sister will do her utmost to have work in which she is interested and has some inclination toward, so that she can see and hear those things pleasing to her. Then when she is in her chosen work, she will do all in her power, just the same as other people, to attain the best position possible that life might be brighter and she do the most good, as well as to have a little more authority. In order to gain her aspirations, a sister is compelled by the hell-bound system to live in continual fire—the fire of fear and remorse—the fire of fierce wrangling through pride, jealousy and ambition. Patients and doctors have come to me many, many times, with proof of the awful jealousy and inharmony among sisters. They could not understand that a sister's world was so small and cramped by obedience that they could not get away from their last scene of hell and latest oppression.