Paperback Jukebox
Notes on Nursing - Florence Nightingale
Before this tattered copy of Notes on Nursing found its way to my nightstand, my knowledge of Florence Nightingale was limited to three facts: 1) she was a nurse 2) she was a famous nurse 3) she is often pictured wearing an old-fashioned nursing cap with a swooping brim.
I’ve always been interested in medical subjects, and not just because I have a case of mild hypochondria. I find the human body (and its many possibilities for disaster) fascinating and this passion has led me to a medical journal or two and earned me the reputation among UPMC as one of those patients. Still, the majority of my medical know-how has been delivered via episodes of House and panicked searches through WebMD.
Luckily, Nightingale must have somehow anticipated readers like me when she wrote Notes on Nursing in 1860. Her accessible prose remains appropriate to today’s world, mostly because of its focus on caretaking, not diagnostics or medical procedure. In fact, Nightingale cautions the reader several times: this book was intended “to give hints for thought to women who have personal charge of the health of others…knowledge which everyone ought to have.”
As Virginia M. Dunbar discusses in the Forward to the reprinted edition, Nursing was published during a time when there was no established professional nursing “path” – no schools or official training programs. Practices were inconsistent at best, as there was no accepted body of knowledge. Today, when many nurses are rigorously educated, this seems difficult to imagine.
However, this is also a time of economic hardship when many live without health insurance; some of us may choose to take care of elderly parents or sick loved ones without the aid of live-in nurses or expensive rest homes. In this sense, this book may be more relevant than ever.
In addition to its practicality, Notes is full of brilliant suggestions and quotable quips on everyday living. The majority of Notes expounds the “five essential points in securing the health of houses”:
- Pure Air
- Pure water
- Efficient drainage
- Cleanliness
- Light
These points may seem like common sense, but Nightingale’s advice is often surprising (and even a little weird). She emphasizes ventilation and vigilant observance as the most critical aspects of good nursing, saying, “Cleanliness and fresh air from open windows, with unremitting attention to the patient, are the only defence [sic] a true nurse either asks or needs.” Nightingale urges the nurse to ask herself not only what she does for the patient when she is present, but also, “What is done when I am not there?”
Certainly, Nightingale’s text was revolutionary in terms of nursing care, but this book is not simply a how-to manual. Nightingale’s investigative commentary on subjects ranging from jelly to feminism push this text beyond the instructive. For example, in a compelling argument at the end of the book, Nightingale asks women not to take part in certain professions just because they are dominated by men, but because:
You want to do the thing that is good, whether it is “suitable for a woman” or not …it does not make a thing good, that it is remarkable that a woman should have been able to do it…either does it make it a thing bad, which would have been good if a man had done it, that it has been done by a woman.
In statements such as these, Nightingale finds a way to connect with her readers over a century in the future. Smart, accessible and compelling, this is the kind of book that makes you throw open your windows and let a little air in.
Maggie Glover lives in Carnegie, PA. Her poems have appeared in The Journal, Controlled Burn, 32 Poems, Pebble Lake Review and other magazines. In 2007, she was nominated for a Pushcart Prize. In 2008, she was the third place winner of Smartish Pace’s Beullah Rose Poetry Prize. Maggie reviews literary magazines for NewPages.com.