It had to be You

grew up here. I always wanted to be a nurse and my parents were moderately agreeable to the idea. Well-brought-up young women were supposed to marry and provide grandchildren. My parents thought getting a nursing degree was a good preparation for taking care of a brood of children. I’d been able to skip two grades in school, so I started nursing school at age sixteen. I soon discovered I really loved taking care of people. And would rather do that than marry, so when I got my license after three years of study, I applied to a hospital in New York City. After another three years there, the Powers That Be decided I was such a good nurse that I should be assigned to be head nurse in place of the one who was retiring.“
    “What a compliment to your skills,“ Lily said.
    “It was. The problem was that I didn’t want the job. It was more political and financial than medical. I would have been in charge of hiring and firing nurses. I’d have to justify to the hospital board of directors what medicines would be supplied and what they’d cost. I’d have been responsible for how the scheduling of nursing shifts would be set up. I’d lose all touch with the patients.“
    “So you turned down the offer?“ Lily asked. “That must have been a hard decision.“
    “Not really,“ Miss Twibell said cheerfully as she took off one carpet slipper to massage her left foot. “I’d have hated doing what they wanted me to do. It was flattering, of course, but I’d have been miserable. Besides, my parents had need of me. They had me late in life and were both in failing health. My father had suffered a stroke, and my mother had cancer. So I came back here to take care of them. I knew nursing. I knew, too, that I’d be doing them their final favor for being so good to me. I also had learned that I never wanted to be controlled by the whims of a man. Being around so many middle-aged doctors who mistook themselves for little gods had taught me that.“
    “Not all men are doctors,“ Lily said as she folded the stiff padding and put it into a laundry basket.
    “All men are men, though,“ Miss Twibell said with a twinkle in her eye. “They want to be in charge of their family. Anyway, my father soon had his fatal stroke. My mother lingered for another two years. My father was the lucky one to go quickly. My mother was lonely for company when my father was gone, so I took in Miss Smith. She was already having trouble keeping up her house with her bad hips. She and my mother got along well with each other, listening to the radio and knitting. Miss Smith also liked me and offered me the annuity her father had purchased for her when she was a child as payment for keeping her and taking care of her for the rest of her life. It had built up over the years and supplied me with the extra money to set up all this“—she gestured at the main room and the pharmacy section—“after my mother passed away. That’s how I managed to buy all the hospital beds, linens, pay for the shelving, and have these two rooms turned into one large one.”
    Lily and Betty perched on the edge of the now naked mattress.
    Miss Twibell went on, “All Eulalia asked of me was free room and board and a small allowance to buy yarn,“ she chuckled. “Soon after that she introduced me to her friend Miss Jones. They’d known each other all their lives. Miss Jones was fed up with living alone, and gave me title to sell her house in town with the same stipulation. Care and a small yarn allowance. And I’m not telling you tales I shouldn’t reveal. Miss Smith and Miss Jones have told Betty, Mattie, and all their knitting-circle friends how happy they were with the bargain they made.“
    “I have one more snoopy question,“ Lily said. “How does a nurse manage to order all the medicines you must have to use?“
    “That’s not snoopy. It’s a practical question. Dr. Polhemus orders it and I reimburse him for the cost. After all, my patients are his patients, too.”
    She put her carpet slipper back on and stood up. “Enough talking. You girls need to get this mattress turned and the bed put back together.”
    Just as she said this, Robert came huffing in with the last load of laundry for the day.
    “Oh, dear. I completely forgot to warn you,“ she said to Lily and Robert, “yours is a seven-day-work-week job. But Doreen has the weekends off—that’s why Friday is the heaviest washing day. Doreen needs Saturday and Sunday with her child. They go