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  CHERRY AMES AT HILTON HOSPITAL

  TITLES BY HELEN WELLS

  Cherry Ames, Student Nurse

  Cherry Ames, Senior Nurse

  Cherry Ames, Army Nurse

  Cherry Ames, Chief Nurse

  Cherry Ames, Flight Nurse

  Cherry Ames, Veterans’ Nurse

  Cherry Ames, Private Duty Nurse

  Cherry Ames, Visiting Nurse

  Cherry Ames, Cruise Nurse

  Cherry Ames, Boarding School Nurse

  Cherry Ames, Department Store Nurse

  Cherry Ames, Camp Nurse

  Cherry Ames at Hilton Hospital

  Cherry Ames, Island Nurse

  Cherry Ames, Rural Nurse

  Cherry Ames, Staff Nurse

  Cherry Ames, Companion Nurse

  Cherry Ames, Jungle Nurse

  Cherry Ames, The Mystery in the Doctor’s Offi ce

  Cherry Ames, Ski Nurse Mystery

  CHERRY AMES NURSE STORIES

  CHERRY AMES AT HILTON HOSPITAL

  By

  HELEN WELLS

  Copyright © 1959 by Grosset & Dunlap, Inc.

  Copyright © renewed 2008 by Harriet Schulman Forman

  Springer Publishing Company, LLC

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of Springer Publishing Company, LLC.

  Springer Publishing Company, LLC

  11 West 42nd Street

  New York, NY 10036-8002

  www.springerpub.com

  Acquisitions Editor: Sally J. Barhydt

  Series Editor: Harriet S. Forman

  Production Editor: Carol Cain

  Cover design: Mimi Flow

  Composition: Apex Publishing, LLC

  08 09 10 11/ 5 4 3 2 1

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Wells, Helen, 1910-

  Cherry Ames at Hilton Hospital / by Helen Wells.

  p. cm. — (Cherry Ames nurse stories)

  Summary: Cherry learns about the workings of the mind as she collaborates with a staff psychiatrist in trying to assist a young amnesia patient regain his memory.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-8261-0421-2 (alk. paper)

  ISBN-10: 0-8261-0421-5 (alk. paper)

  [1. Nurses—Fiction. 2. Amnesia—Fiction. 3. Psychiatry—Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.W4644Cbj 2007

  [Fic]—dc22

  2007024056

  Printed in the United States of America by Bang Printing

  Contents

  FOREWORD

  I

  IDENTITY UNKNOWN

  II

  DR. HOPE

  III

  FIRST STEPS

  IV

  DETECTIVE WORK

  V

  A LEAD TURNS UP

  VI

  PICTURE TESTS

  VII

  WHAT BOB RECALLED

  VIII

  LONG AGO AND FAR AWAY

  IX

  CHERRY ASKS QUESTIONS

  X

  MR. STEELE’S STORY

  XI

  THE PATCHED LETTER

  XII

  TWO KEY INTERVIEWS

  XIII

  A WALL OF MIST

  XIV

  THE FINAL STEP

  Foreword

  Helen Wells, the author of the Cherry Ames stories, said, “I’ve always thought of nursing, and perhaps you have, too, as just about the most exciting, important, and rewarding profession there is. Can you think of any other skill that is always needed by everybody, everywhere?”

  I was and still am a fan of Cherry Ames. Her courageous dedication to her patients; her exciting escapades; her thirst for knowledge; her intelligent application of her nursing skills; and the respect she achieved as a registered nurse (RN) all made it clear to me that I was going to follow in her footsteps and become a nurse—nothing else would do.

  Thousands of other young readers were motivated by Cherry Ames to become RNs as well. Through her thought-provoking stories, Cherry Ames led a steady stream of students into schools of nursing across the country well into the 1960s and 1970s when the series ended.

  Readers who remember enjoying these books in the past will take pleasure in reading them again now—whether or not they chose nursing as their life’s work. Perhaps they will share them with others and even motivate a person or two to choose nursing as their career.

  My nursing path has been rich and satisfying. I have delivered babies, cared for people in hospitals and in their homes, and saved lives. I have worked at the bedside and served as an administrator, I have published journals, written articles, taught students, consulted, and given expert testimony. Never once did I regret my decision to become a nurse.

  During the time I was publishing a nursing journal, I became acquainted with Robert Wells, brother of Helen Wells. In the course of conversation I learned that Ms. Wells had passed on and left the Cherry Ames copyright to Mr. Wells. Because there is a shortage of nurses here in the US today, I thought, “Why not bring Cherry back to motivate a whole new generation of young people? Why not ask Mr. Wells for the copyright to Cherry Ames?” Mr. Wells agreed, and the republished series is dedicated both to Helen Wells, the original author, and to her brother, Robert Wells, who transferred the rights to me. I am proud to ensure the continuation of Cherry Ames into the twenty-first century.

  The final dedication is to you, both new and former readers of Cherry Ames: It is my dream that you enjoy Cherry’s nursing skills as well as her escapades. I hope that young readers will feel motivated to choose nursing as their life’s work. Remember, as Helen Wells herself said: there’s no other skill that’s “always needed by everybody, everywhere.”

  Harriet Schulman Forman, RN, EdD

  Series Editor

  CHERRY AMES AT HILTON HOSPITAL

  CHAPTER I

  Identity Unknown

  CHERRY AND HER FELLOW NURSE ON THE MEN’S orthopedic Ward, Ruth Dale, were preparing a dozen breakfast trays in the small ward kitchen. They moved as quickly as they could, white uniforms rustling, as they dished out hot cereal from the food cart from the main kitchen, and poured glasses of orange juice and milk.

  “Faster!” Ruth Dale said. “Last July we had hopes of getting extra nurses, and here it is September tenth, and the hospital is still short of nurses.”

  “Unless you count me as extra,” Cherry said.

  She was taking the place of a staff nurse who had gone abroad for a long-planned vacation. On Cherry’s return home to Hilton, Illinois, a week ago, after her summer job as camp nurse, the post at Hilton Hospital was open. When the hospital asked her to fill in, Cherry had jumped at this chance to return to staff nursing.

  “It keeps you alert,” she thought. “Keeps you up to date on new methods.” It was stimulating to work every day from seven A.M. to three P.M. with other nurses and the resident and visiting physicians—to talk with other white-uniformed staff from the Medical Ward, Children’s Pavilion, the Operating Rooms.… “Why, I never realized how much I missed working in a hospital. I’ll have to come back regularly and be one of the team.”

  Mrs. Peters, head nurse for Men’s Orthopedics, looked in. She asked brusquely if they’d seen the night nurse’s report book and whether the diet kitchen had sent up Mr. Pape’s special foods. If Millie Peters sounded a little peppery, it was out of concern for the patients. The two nurses knew that and moved faster.

  “I wonder what sort of a shorthanded day we’ll have,” Ruth said.

  “You never know,” Cherry commented as she picked up
a breakfast tray. “You just never know what’s going to happen in a hospital.”

  She darted out to the ward, smiling her very prettiest for the men in beds, casts, and wheelchairs. The sixteen-year-old boy in the wheelchair, Tommy, was undergoing a course of corrective surgery. The young man in the end bed was suffering from inflammation of the joints and could not move. The big man who had developed osteomyelitis following an auto accident—the old man with a broken hip—the long-term spine patient—all had a long fight to get well. Cherry had told her family she wished she could wear a red ribbon in her hair, or have more music on the ward, to brighten up these patients.

  In spite of their serious handicaps, this was a cheerful ward. The men joked about “the peculiar shape we’re in,” and smiled back at Cherry as she served the breakfast trays. Some of them had said they felt better just having her around. “You’re so darn healthy, and you’re nice to look at, too, Miss Cherry.” She was tall and slim, with cherry-red cheeks and dark curls and a spirited way of moving.

  After breakfast she gave her assigned patients their morning care, then wrote up each man’s chart for the medical doctors’ and surgeons’ visits.

  At midmorning Dr. Ray Watson came in. He was in charge of Men’s Orthopedics, and he reminded Cherry of a clumsy, warmhearted grandfather bear.

  “Very good,” he boomed as he examined Tommy. “Very nice improvement.” He went down the row of beds, accompanied by the nurses, checking the patients and noisily encouraging each one.

  The head nurse glanced at Cherry and her look said: “I’m afraid Dr. Watson is a little rambunctious for some of the sicker ones, but his heart is in the right place.”

  When he had completed his rounds, he conferred privately with the three nurses at Mrs. Peters’ desk and wrote out orders for continuing care.

  “It’s a lot for the three of you to handle,” Dr. Watson said. “If only we had more nurses! Glad Miss Ames is filling in here. Well, if you should want me, I’m going to look in at Emergency now.”

  Dr. Watson thumped away, and the ward settled down for a rest before lunchtime.

  About twenty minutes later Cherry was surprised when Mrs. Peters summoned her to the ward telephone. The head nurse seemed surprised, too.

  “Miss Ames, Dr. Watson wants you to come down to Emergency and help him with an accident case that’s just been brought in. A fracture, but apparently something special. He’d rather have a nurse from Orthopedics than one of the Emergency nurses—for follow-up, I gather—anyway, the nurses are all busy down there. I guess he thinks of you as our ‘extra’ nurse. Can you safely leave the ward?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Peters. I’m all finished with morning routine, if you can spare me for serving lunch.”

  “I’ll get a volunteer to do that.” The head nurse spoke into the phone: “All right, Dr. Watson, I’ll send Miss Ames down to you.” The head nurse listened for a moment. “Yes, Doctor, if you feel privacy is advisable, we’ll get the side room ready.” She hung up.

  “The side room?” Cherry asked as she started for the corridor and elevator. “What sort of case is it?”

  “I don’t know. Dr. Watson sounded rather uncertain himself.”

  In Emergency on the street floor, Cherry passed an ambulance attendant wheeling in a badly burned woman and caught a glimpse of doctors and nurses administering oxygen to two workmen in overalls. Cherry found Dr. Ray Watson in one of the partitioned-off cubicles. A nurse had already set up a treatment tray in there for him.

  In the cubicle, on one of the high iron beds, was a dazed-looking young man. His leg was broken and in a splint, but what impressed Cherry was his blank, lost expression. She noticed his ragged but clean clothing. What had happened to him?

  “Ah, Miss Ames!” Dr. Watson looked anxious. “Glad you’re here. I’ve examined his leg, and given a sedative, but between you and me—” The elderly doctor drew her aside, out of the patient’s hearing. “This boy’s fracture is the least of his troubles. He won’t talk to me or the orderly or the ambulance attendant who brought him in. He’s not in shock, either. No mouth or throat injury. Not deaf. No concussion. He just won’t talk to anybody. Maybe a girl would be gentler with him. See if you can get him to speak.”

  “Yes, Doctor. Perhaps he’s too frightened to speak. How did the accident happen?”

  “A motorist found him out on Lincoln Highway, lying beside the highway with a broken leg. He called the police, they called our ambulance, and our man put a splint on the leg and brought him in. We don’t know whether a car struck him, or he fell from a car or truck, or what.”

  Dr. Watson told Cherry that an X ray of the patient’s leg had already been taken. It was a simple fracture of the lower leg, the tibia, and Dr. Watson had pretty well decided how to set the fractured bone.

  “His leg is scraped and dirty. Clean it up and dress it, Miss Ames. You’d better remove his shoes and socks while you’re at it.”

  “Yes, Doctor.” Cherry turned toward the dazed man.

  “Now see if you can get him to talk to you,” Dr. Watson said. “Maybe I’m too gruff. I’ll be just outside the doorway.”

  Cherry approached the young man. He looked straight at her but apparently did not see her. His eyes seemed to be full of tears or glazed, and he lay on the bed stiff as a wooden puppet. Cherry said in a low voice:

  “Hello. I’m your nurse.”

  This time his eyes focused and he saw her. But he might as well have been staring at a ghost.

  “We’re going to take good care of you here,” Cherry said. “You’re in a hospital now.”

  He closed his eyes for an instant. Was it an answer? Cherry felt something sad, tense, and remote in this young man. He was gaunt and wind-burned; about twenty-five years old. Not a tramp; the face was that of an intelligent if distressed man. Cherry bent over him and whispered:

  “Are you in pain?” He seemed to be.

  No answer. In back of them, Cherry heard Dr. Watson’s heavy breathing. She wiped the leg clean with sterile gauze and covered it lightly with a sterile dressing. She noticed the young man’s broken shoes; they must be uncomfortable. Removing them and the worn, clean socks, Cherry found that his feet were blistered.

  “You must have walked a long way. Your feet look awfully sore.”

  Cherry gestured to Dr. Watson to come look at the blistered feet. The orthopedic specialist stepped into the cubicle, looked, and shook his head.

  “Bathe his feet with a warm, weak sterile saline solution, then with green soap and water.”

  Cherry made the solution and in silence gently bathed the patient’s feet. She glanced up to find that Dr. Watson had left them alone, and the patient was looking at her gratefully. She smiled at him.

  “Won’t you tell me your name?”

  His lips formed the words and then the sound came out with difficulty. “I think it’s Bob Smith.”

  I think—! Cherry was careful not to show her shock. She told him her own name, and said this was Hilton Hospital. They conversed in whispers.

  “Are you from Hilton, or around here?”

  “No.”

  “Where are you from? The Admitting Office will want to know.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Never mind. You’ll remember later.”

  “I can’t remember anything. I don’t know who I am, or where I came from, or where I work, not even what my work is—” He struggled to sit up, in panic.

  “It’s all right. Rest, now.” Cherry eased him back against the pillow. She heard Dr. Watson’s voice outside the room. “The doctor will help you. And I’ll stay with you, if you want me.”

  “Yes.”

  Cherry signaled and Dr. Watson entered. Cherry murmured one word: “Amnesia.” It meant loss of memory, and was as real an illness as the man’s broken leg. The doctor gave her a quick look, nodded, and began to examine the patient’s general physical condition. Cherry stayed, ready to assist the doctor. She smiled encouragingly at their patient.


  The young man did not speak when they questioned him, and they did not press him. When the examination was over, Dr. Watson called Cherry out of the room.

  “Nurse, I want you to stay with this young fellow while we set his leg. You’re the only one he’ll talk to, so far. We’ll set it right away, because he’s in pain—there’s no swelling, so no need to wait. We’ll probably be able to get Dr. Hope over here by tomorrow.”

  “Dr. Hope, sir?”

  “We haven’t any Psychiatric Pavilion here, but I’m sure Harry Hope will come over. A young man and a good doctor. He used to be a resident medical doctor here at Hilton Hospital, got interested in—fascinated, I should say—in curing people’s minds and emotions as well as their bodies. They’re all linked together, you know. He left us to train further.”

  Dr. Hope was now a junior psychiatrist on the staff of the University College of Medicine, not many miles away. He and his young family still lived in Hilton.

  “He’ll come over. If Hope says it’s necessary, we’ll move this boy to a special hospital. But with that leg and low vitality of his, I’d rather not move him at all. Hey, Miss Ames, you don’t feel any qualms about a loss-of-memory patient, do you?”

  “No, Doctor. I just hope I’ll be a skillful enough nurse for him.”

  “Good girl. Looks like a nice young fellow, doesn’t he? Now you see why I wanted that quiet room off your ward for him.”

  Cherry took a minute to telephone her ward and ask Mrs. Peters to get an orthopedic bed ready. This bed had boards under the mattress, and hand straps for the patient to pull himself up to a sitting position. Then Cherry and an orderly took Bob Smith on a wheeled stretcher upstairs to the side room. There the orderly undressed him and put a hospital gown on him. Cherry went along with the patient to the Cast Room.

  Dr. Watson gave a local anesthetic: he injected Novocain into the fracture area. Then, with great care, he reduced the fracture; that is, he placed the two ends of the broken bone together, under the skin. Bob Smith was nervous. He kept looking at Cherry, who wiped his forehead and murmured encouragement.