The Free Spirit

From Midwife to Wife, 1957 (Part One)

"You and I will be as free as the birds up in the trees..."

On Friday, the nineteenth day of July, 1957, my life changed significantly. Now well settled into my routine, I recall that I was on a shift in the emergency room walking down the corridor when I was stopped by a nurse that had come out of an examination room, handing me a clipboard. "Can you handle this one, English? I'm going on break."

"Um... sure," I said, glancing at the chart in my hands. The patient was a twenty-year-old male by the name of Isaac D. Everly who displayed symptoms of a dislocated shoulder, something I could fix easily. I had completely forgotten about 'Bye Bye Love' and the Everly Brothers, so I made no connection to the name on the clipboard and the singers of the song that Trixie and I listened to in our room. I knocked on the exam room door, announcing myself as "Nurse!" and entered, my eyes meeting with the distressed sweet earthly hazel eyes of the man who would become my husband, Isaac Donald Everly. Once I saw him, I recognised him off of the single, but kept calm. "Good afternoon, Mr. Everly."

"Afternoon, ma'am," he said in a southern drawl, his eyes on my face. His cheekbones were pulling through his skin and were visible quite clearly. He was very skinny, almost skeletal in his appearance, and a bit pale. He looked tired, but still handsome nonetheless.

"So a dislocated shoulder, hm? Easy fix, no need for a doctor. Could you remove your shirt for me?" I asked him, trying hard not to be distracted by his handsome hazel eyes and sweet handsome face.

"Already? Damn woman, and they said I was fast," said the young man teasingly, and I smiled.

"I assure you this is strictly professional in my business," I said to him, then frowned once I realised what I had said. "Oh my, that sounds like I just called myself a prostitute. I can assure you that I am not one of them." Don chuckled as he unbuttoned and slipped his shirt off of his shoulders.

"Wasn't thinkin' that, sweetheart," he replied.

"I've got to check your vitals first anyway," I said, putting my stethoscope in my ears. "Don't worry, this will only be freezing," I told him as I pressed it against his chest, and he grimaced at the temperature of the piece of metal. "Your heartbeat is around 55 beats per minute... that's rather slow."

"Always has been. Doctor says its normal," Don told me. "What ain't normal is a English girl in a New York Hospital."

"Just a spontaneous opportunity I couldn't pass up," I told him as I prepared to check his blood pressure. "When you live your whole life in the East End of London, you just can't wait to get out."

"You from London?" he asked as I pumped air into the armband.

"Indeed I am. District of Stepney, although I'm sure you won't know it. I guess... I guess it's like the Bronx or something like that..." I replied, writing down the numbers on his chart.

"I don't know where that is, neither," Don replied.

"That's all right, I'm sure it doesn't matter. Now, let's see this shoulder." I took the armband off of him and checked his shoulder, running my fingers over the joint searching for the dislocation.

"You sure a doctor shouldn't do this?" he asked me. "Ya look a little bit young."

"Probably no older than you," I told him. "I have four younger brothers who have been dislocating their shoulders for years. I learned quickly how to fix them."

"I got one younger brother and he's a pain in the ass," said Don.

"So are mine," I said, and he chuckled, then grimaced and groaned as I finally found the dislocation. "Ah, there it is. Now, dislocated shoulders really aren't complicated. What I'm going to need you to do is sit real still, but leave this arm limp. What I'm going to do is place my non-dominant hand, my right, on your upper arm to drive it back into place, and my dominant hand, my left, on your elbow to provide the strength to push it back into place. Are you ready?"