Page 51 - Philly Girl

Philly Girl 35

The Menopause Ward

In 1969, I was a psychology major at Temple University.
I wanted some actual real-world experience working with
“crazy” people, instead of just reading The 50- Minute Hour
and visiting my schizophrenic uncle Norman at Norristown
State Hospital on Sundays. So I became a nursing aide at
the Quaker-founded Friends Hospital, the oldest psychiatric
institution in the country.
The landscaping around the building was beautiful—
wisteria vines and tulips and rose bushes throughout the
well-manicured grounds. Wealthy lunatics were known to
take up long-term residence here, and parts of the hospital
resembled a country club. The hospital permitted brides and
grooms to have their wedding pictures taken on the grounds.
High-end photographers brought sophisticated equipment,
and the patients loved to watch. Often they would wave
from their windows and shout down to the smiling couples
in the garden. Sometimes they would yell, “Don’t do it!”
I was assigned to what was casually referred to as “the
menopause ward.” My job was to hand out tranquilizers in
the late afternoon and sleeping pills at bedtime. I wore a
yellow pinafore and a yellow ribbon in my ponytail. As the
new “pill girl,” I was automatically popular. The women all
called me “Hon.”
I walked the patients to recreational therapy, where they
made potholders and ashtrays and painted by numbers. I
escorted them to physical therapy, where we played vol-
leyball together. The job so far seemed easy and pleasant