Sandra Heska King

daring to open doors

  • Home
  • About
  • DISCLOSURES
    • Amazon Affiliate
    • Book Reviews
  • Published
  • Contact
  • Blog
    • Commit Poetry
    • Dared

Through the Time Tunnel

September 14, 2010 By Sandra Heska King

Monday, September 13, 2010

I enter a time tunnel and stand in front of Andersen Center, what used to be Andersen Hall.

I’m surprised that it still stands.

I’m overwhelmed.

I look up and see my room. On the corner. With the bay windows.

I must go inside.

But my husband says we can’t. There are security locks on the door.

I step forward to peek in the window.

And the door swings open.

And we are inside.

There is a lady sitting on a bench.  She asks what department we are looking for.

I start to cry.

“She used to live here,” says my husband. “When she was a student nurse.”

“Then you need to go that way,” says the lady.

So we go that way, but we do not know where to go or what to do. We push open a door that has a mail slot in it and nearly knock over another lady in scrubs.

She asks if she can help us.

I start to cry again.

My husband explains.

And Debbie (we only find out her name when we leave) is stunned. She says she’s always wanted to meet one of “us.” I belonged to the last class to graduate from Saginaw General Hospital School of Nursing. It’s not even Saginaw General anymore. It’s part of a sprawling Covenant HealthCare System.

Debbie takes us on a tour and introduces me to people and finds people to unlock doors.

I see my room and Becky’s across the hall. We made and hung our own curtains that Maintenance took back down and replaced with the ugly fireproof ones while we were in clinicals. Now those windows are framed with vertical blinds.

I tell Debbie how I stocked up on baby fruits like strained bananas and apricots for late night study sessions. And I tell her about the first night and how scared I was and how I locked my door and cried because of the commotion in the hall and the pounding on my door. The “big sisters” were pulling the new students into cold showers.

And I tell her about how we had to yell “flush” if someone was in the shower so they didn’t get scalded. And how Maintenance called out “man on the floor” if they came up.

Today our rooms are offices.

I see the lounge where we used to gather around a piano and sing and have monthly birthday parties. It’s a board room now.

Where were our mailboxes? I try to remember. I tell Debbie how we used to sunbathe on the roof.

I see the back door. A short run across the parking lot would put us in the hospital. That’s where we were if we weren’t in the dorm. That was our life for two years, year around. And we often earned extra money as aides if we did not go home for the weekend.

I see the tunnel entrance. It also led to the hospital, and we went through it when it rained. We used to have laundry cart races in there. We can’t open that door, but I peer in. It seems a lot more narrow. I think it widens deeper in. I take a picture through the glass.

Debbie takes us into some conference room that is being remodeled. And way over on the far wall are some large hinged poster-size photos. She says someone wanted to throw them out but someone else said no. I look first at the last picture of a graduating class—1969. Ours. And I point to myself and Becky. And I tell Debbie about some of the other girls in the photos.

And I see the class prior and my “big sister.” And all the classes that came before, all the way to the front to the hospital founding in 1889. But I’m sure several are missing.

And Debbie tells me that a couple nurses in OB were still wearing their caps up until a couple years ago.

Finally, we say goodbye and thank you and hug and walk around to the front of the hospital and into the park, where I remember walking with one of my psychiatric patients after she had come out of a catatonic state. And I look up  and remember watching a sunrise from what I think was a surgical floor lounge.

We go inside, but nothing looks familiar. And a lady shorter than me by inches, a volunteer, Florence, asks if she can help us, but I can’t talk again. And Dennis tells her why we are there, and she tells me she worked there in recovery when I was a student. She doesn’t remember me, and I don’t remember her, but we talk about the doctors and nurses, and she tells me of some who have passed on and we share stories. She says she does not recognize most of the hospital herself anymore, and that even the cafeteria is different. So we say goodbye and don’t go past the information desk.

And we walk back to the car, and I’m not crying anymore, but I’m tired and thirsty. And I’m quiet, as my mind tunnels back in time and breaks through to more blurred memories.

But I’m confused about the tears–tears that did not come even when I sat in front of my childhood home or the now empty lot where my grandparents’ home stood.

Maybe it was the going in. The going deep. The touching. Hearing echoes in the halls. Brushing away cobwebs.

Because those two years, more than any others, consumed me and defined a large part of who I am.

Linking up with L.L. Barkat’s On, In and Around Mondays at Seedlings in Stone.

Share this:

  • Email
  • Print
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Pinterest

Filed Under: stories and reflections

Comments

  1. Jay Cookingham says

    September 14, 2010 at 5:05 pm

    I think certain memories, certain parts of our story God spoke deeper into. When they come into contact with our “now” He shows us just how much He was there…does that makes sense? When we see that truth, the emotional response can be overwhelming.

    He is the Apha and the Omega afterall….

    Thanks for sharing part of your story, BTW, I think nurse are heroes…

    • Sandra says

      September 14, 2010 at 6:25 pm

      That makes a lot of sense, Jay. And it made me cry again. Thanks!

  2. HisFireFly says

    September 14, 2010 at 6:37 pm

    It amazes me the ways in which the Holy Spirit moves. You might have been interceding for someone else with your tears…

    I’m glad you were able to take the journey back.

    • Sandra says

      September 14, 2010 at 8:29 pm

      Ohhhh. That’s a beautiful thought. I thought it was all about me.

    • deidra says

      September 14, 2010 at 10:47 pm

      That is a beautiful thought.

  3. deidra says

    September 14, 2010 at 10:48 pm

    I remember going through the communal bathroom window to hang out on the roof at Michigan State. Somehow, that memory won’t let go, after all of these years. Funny what sticks with us, isn’t it?

  4. L.L. Barkat says

    September 15, 2010 at 7:45 am

    the baby fruits made me smile! 🙂

  5. Terri Tffany says

    September 15, 2010 at 11:34 am

    Oh wow– some of the things you mentioned, I remember doing too at college. Years later, I drove around my campus and the memories pulled at me so much. I would probably cry now if I went back. Glad you did it!

  6. Catherine says

    September 15, 2010 at 4:18 pm

    This is gorgeous and felt the emotions welling up within it. Thank you for sharing it, from a first time visitor.

    • Sandra says

      September 18, 2010 at 11:10 pm

      Thank you so much, Catherine. And thank you for visiting.

  7. Cheryl Smith says

    September 17, 2010 at 7:31 pm

    So vivid, the place and the emotions. Pulling on my heart strings even now, as I think of similar times – through the time tunnel.

    “Because those two years, more than any others, consumed me and defined a large part of who I am.” Yes, I get that!

    • Sandra says

      September 18, 2010 at 11:12 pm

      It’s amazing that even now, 41 years later, I can still close my eyes and smell smells and see sights and the emotions rush back.

  8. L.E. Fiore says

    September 18, 2010 at 9:28 pm

    Mmm! That was beautiful- I wanted to cry with you and remember with you. It brought back similar moments and feelings of my own. Thanks!

  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Flickr
  • Instagram
  • Pinterest
  • RSS
  • Twitter

Meet Sandra

I’m Sandra, a camera-toting, recovering doer who’s learning to be. still. Read more…

Get updates from the stillness by email

Your personal information is safe and will never be shared.

Archives

Categories

Instagram Inspiration

sandraheskaking

Happy first day of fall from my backyard to yours. Happy first day of fall from my backyard to yours.
Just another backyard photo… Just another backyard photo…
From my backyard tonight. From my backyard tonight.
Just another sunset. Just another sunset.
“I would like people to remember of me, how inex “I would like people to remember of me, how inexhaustible was her mindfulness.” ~ Mary Oliver in “ A Little Ado About This and That.”
Current situation. Current situation.
“This spark of life that wavest wings of gold” “This spark of life that wavest wings of gold” ~ Thomas Wentworth Higginson in “Ode to a Butterfly”
🦋
We pulled all the milkweed because it just could not support all the caterpillars. They were eating it bare and most of them died because they ran out of food. This one butterfly found this one lone volunteer.
"I would feel more optimistic about a bright futur "I would feel more optimistic about a bright future for man if he spent less time proving that he can outwit Nature and more time tasting her sweetness and respecting her seniority." ~ E.B. White (as quoted on today's page in my Franklin Planner)
"May you experience each day as a sacred gift wove "May you experience each day as a sacred gift woven around the heart of wonder." ~ John O'Donohue in "For Presence" from To Bless the Space Between Us
🌴
Tri-colored heron stalking breakfast in my backyard.
“. . neighbor’s tree hangs heavy with mangoes “. .  neighbor’s tree hangs heavy with mangoes. They are moving in a week. They say a family from Belarus bought the house. I hope they don’t care much for mangoes.”
**
“Beautiful Sweet Things” at https://sandraheskaking.substack.com/
"People do not grow old. When they cease to grow t "People do not grow old. When they cease to grow they become old.” ~ Emerson

It's been a while since I've written anything on my blog. Like 3 years. But I just wrote my first post on Substack. Come see?

https://sandraheskaking.substack.com/p/ten-years-ten-things
Spent a couple hours this morning with friends fro Spent a couple hours this morning with friends from @spanishriverchurch picking up beach trash. Little bits of colored and clear plastic, big bits of plastic, bottle caps, broken glass, strings, ropes, straws, socks, fast food containers, paper, cigarette holders and filters—and a couple unmentionables. Took extra care around the turtle nests. Last count was about 70 pounds, but there were also some bigger things like an abandoned chair and a plastic tent. And a big piece of burlap or something with a fishing lure and giant hook attached. D found a Macy’s gift card that he almost tossed in his bucket. But we brought it home to check the balance—$24.60! We should be able to turn that into something useful for someone. 😊
H Already dead, I am living my afterlife here in t H
Already dead, I am
living my afterlife
here
in the form of a human.
~ Xueyan from Time Peels All to Original White

Thanks to @tspoetry for introducing me to this beautiful collection via an Every Day Poems selection.
The cats attacked the window all night. The dog wo The cats attacked the window all night. The dog woofed all night. This morning we discovered the would-be burglar imprisoned between the screen and the glass on our bedroom slider. 

When I stepped out to release it (no bail), I was surprised by this brief bit of backyard beauty.
For most of us, knowledge of our world comes large For most of us, knowledge of our world comes largely through sight, yet we look about with such unseeing eyes that we are partially blind. One way to open your eyes to unnoticed beauty is to ask yourself, "What if I had never seen this before? What if I knew I would never see it again?" ~ Rachel Carson in The Sense of Wonder
#prayformsu #spartanstrong #spartannurse #michigan #prayformsu #spartanstrong #spartannurse #michiganstateuniversity
Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good! His faith Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good! His faithful love endures forever. ~ Psalm 136:1
A tale of two iguanas... I did not see the iguana A tale of two iguanas... I did not see the iguana in the background until I downloaded the photos. That, I believe, is the one that got caught in one of the openings in the neighbor's chain link fence. We tried in several (safe) ways to dislodge it without luck and could think of no other option but to leave it. Somehow it apparently dislodged itself. We also believe this is the pair that was getting into another neighbor's garden. We haven't seen either one since the last cold snap, so we are wondering if they survived. 
🌱
Thinking some may have tumbled from their perches last night. Pretty sure it will be raining iguanas tonight since we are under a frost advisory. It's cold. And windy.
Just sing... sing a song... Singing our way into Just sing... sing a song... 

Singing our way into the weekend.
"We don't just see. We learn to see." ~ Russ Ramse "We don't just see. We learn to see." ~ Russ Ramsey in Rembrandt is in the Wind
Load More... Follow on Instagram

Get the Mug

Embrace the life you have t s poetry mug

Privacy Policy

Full privacy policy is available HERE.

I Read Light

TSP-Red button

bibledude-net



Sponsor a Child

Join the Compassion Blogger Network

[footer_backtotop]

Copyright © 2023 Sandra Heska King · Site by The Willingham Enterprise, LLC on the Genesis Framework by StudioPress · Log in