1969
I choose a compartment where I can’t see many people and
step up onto the train. I settle myself on the long black vinyl seat close to a
window because the carriage is stuffy in the summer heat. The carriage is about
a third full of people but once you’ve chosen a compartment, that’s it – there
is no swapping. There is no aisle in this train and no walking about. At least
not by the adults… At 3 o’clock the schoolchildren will fill the carriages to
overflowing, treating a carriage as their own, stepping over the backs of seats
from compartment to compartment, finding no obstacle to their progress.
I’ve brushed the seat off before I sat down, just in case,
because I’m wearing a white uniform, stockings and leather lace up shoes. I am
on evening shift today, starting at 1:30 PM and finishing at nine. I wear a
veil, though not in the true sense. My veil is made of paper and sits perkily
on the top of my head. It serves no obvious purpose but it’s tradition and
everybody knows who I am – knows I am a trained nurse. I'm dressed in clean white, and I look
efficient. I look as if I know what I’m doing.
People call me sister, the title for a trained nurse or
registered nurse. Though my fellow sisters will use my first name, nurses won’t.
Nurses are generally trainees, or assistants who also work shift work under the
supervision of a trained nurse. The sick people in beds that I care for are
called patients – not clients – and they know by my uniform who they’re talking
to. They don’t need to know my name to be able to use my title, and everybody
is happy.
At 9 PM I finish my shift and my husband is there to take me
home in the car. Tomorrow I work an early shift so I will be up early to catch the
5:30 AM train.
In the morning more people are there on the platform
waiting. When the diesel engine draws its long line of tired red wooden
carriages in line with the platform, people rush to get a seat. The compartment
is full but everyone gets to sit down. Standing up at peak hour is difficult in
these carriages for there are no straps to hold on to.
The day shift is busier and I am caring for post-operative
cases. At 3:30 I glance at the clock and know it will be at least 20 minutes
before I leave the ward. There is no question of overtime because we work until
the work is done. The attitude from the top down is ‘there is no such thing as
not enough time.’
At 4 o’clock I just manage to catch the 4 PM train. There
are more people this time but somehow I get a seat near a window. Many windows
are still up from the morning’s train cleaning session but the people are quick
to put them down. They go down in a series of crashing noise which is deafening.
The windows are either down or up – no halfway – and they fall heavily into
their slots.
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