Treating Tubercular Patients at Trudeau, By Lucille Taylor Kinsella

It was February 1947 and the midway period of my three years of training to be a nurse. The first six months had been a Probation period—‘Probie’ it was called, the time in which the teachers and the students could decide whether or not this was where they fit. It was mostly classes having to do with illnesses, and some passing acquaintance with hospital care. Having made the decision to continue, we were ‘capped’ (the ‘capping’ at the end of our probationary period was very significant and we were very proud of our caps), and we set out to spend our days on medical, or surgical, floors and the care of sick people. 

Lucille Taylor

February 9th, 1946

Just Capped!

Pediatrics, Obstetrics, Operating Room, Emergency Care and various clinics-- these were all individual departments that we worked on, at various times. 

But now, this was my first two month period away from the ‘home’ hospital, and it was to be a study of tuberculosis, the care of the patient and the disease. My study took place at Trudeau, an institution for the care of tubercular patients located in upstate New York, near Saranac Lake.

It was one of the rules to pack a uniform, cap and shoes in your overnight bag in case your luggage was detained, but no one ever thought to have to use them, never before anyway! There were four of us going—Betts, Gwen, Toni and myself. We were being transported by train, and would meet up with other students from other hospitals. With our luggage all packed, we boarded the train in Rochester, and in Utica, moved to another train to go through the Adirondacks. We expected to arrive about 8PM, be settled in our rooms and ready to go on duty the next morning.

We four gleefully acknowledged that it was rare to have such freedom from rules and duties. Then catastrophe struck. Scenery on the northern leg of the route to Saranac Lake seemed to crawl by. Darkness descended. We were certainly not going to arrive by early evening—or even by late evening! The conductor came through and told us we were the victim of ‘flat wheels’ which could not be fixed until our Saranac Lake stop. With no dining car on our train, as it was usually not needed, our kindly conductor did scare up some apples, and we curled up in our seats to try to snooze. Good thing we did as our trip continued through the night and we were told to find our uniforms and change to be ready to go on duty when we arrived—at 7AM the next morning. 

We four, plus a dozen or more girls from varying hospitals, stepped out at Saranac Lake, cold and hungry, to be bussed through the village to ‘Trudeau’, a large group of hospital buildings and a multitude of small cottages dotted around the area.

Hastily donning our coats, boots and kerchief overcaps, we were given little kits with the necessary pads and papers, each with a list of cottages to cover, and told to take temperatures, pulses and respirations on each occupant of the cottages on our list—and yes, they would have their own thermometers.

Following maps, we each did so, and when done, were to meet at our dormitory where THEN we would have our breakfast. Welcome to Trudeau Sanatorium, our two month affiliation with tuberculosis!

Modern Day Look at Trudeau in the Background

Lucille's granddaughter Kristin Ran a Relay Race called Peak to Brew --

A 220ish miles starting at Whiteface Mountain and ending at Saranac Brewery. A team of 12 works together to do it as a relay, each running 3 legs of varying lengths. 

Thank you Kristin for this picture!

Dr. Edward Livingston Trudeau began the Adirondack Cottage Sanatorium in 1885 in Saranac Lake. Born in New York City, Trudeau was diagnosed with tuberculosis at age 25 (also known as 'Consumption' or the 'White Plague')
in 1873. Following the advice of the time, he went to the Adirondacks for a change of climate and spent as much time as possible in the cold outdoors. He regained his health and moved to Saranac Lake. Reading about the famous German Dr. Brehmer’s ‘rest cure’ for tuberculosis by treating patients in cold, clear mountain air, Trudeau followed Brehmer’s advice and opened his Sanatorium in February of 1885.

The Trudeau Sanatorium closed in 1954, after the discovery of effective antibiotic treatments for tuberculosis. When I was there in early 1947, the doctors were just beginning to use sulpha drugs to see if they would help.

It was mid February when we arrived. The air was crisp and cold, snow was everywhere. We wore our capes and were plenty warm enough as the air was so dry. We did need to wear a kerchief over our caps, though, as our ears got cold in the minus degree weather, especially as our day started so early. By 6:30AM, we were on our rounds to the outlying cottages to take temperatures of the patients living there. These small cottages, dotted about the hilly area, were within easy walking distance of the main Infirmary.

Those patients who were recovering steadily lived in these cottages, four in each, with a private bedroom and a common screened porch where they spent their days, bundled up in their beds, breathing in the pine air. Each had their own thermometer but it was the nurse’s job to be sure that their own exact temperature was taken and charted, raised temperatures being an indicator of a relapse. They bathed themselves, trays were delivered for their meals and our greatest gift to them, as nurses, was to break the monotony of their days; many of the patients spent their days learning how to knit and crochet as they sat on the porches.

After this early start, temperatures charted, we descended upon the cafeteria for our own breakfast—and what a breakfast! Good nourishing food being another requisite for gaining health, we shared in the largess. We were used to good food at Rochester General Hospital, but nothing like the spread that met our eyes now. Regular bacon, Canadian bacon, sausages, grits, fried potatoes, pancakes, waffles, eggs scrambled, fried, soft, hard boiled or poached, oatmeal, Ralston, cream of wheat served with real cream and brown sugar—then there were muffins, toast, sweet buns, jam, doughnuts, fruit juices or sectioned fruit—the meals were simply unbelievable. Everyone always said they gained ten to twenty pounds at Trudeau, and now we could understand why!

We too could sleep on an outside screened porch if we chose. While Betts and Gwen slept on the porch, Toni and I gratefully slept inside, heavily blanketed.  Betts’ habit was to sleep in the buff, never a problem before as on the chair by her bed lay her bathrobe. However, one night shift, the regular nurse called in ill. A substitute was required and the supervisor came for ‘Miss Litchford’ to fill the spot. The entrance to the porch was through my room so I could hear her as she stepped out, called Betts, and told her she was needed on duty. My classmate responded in the affirmative and told her she would get dressed at once and come. However, the supervisor was an old ‘pro’ at her job and refused to leave until the student got out of bed! Now, that caught my attention as I knew she’d never do so in front of such authority. I also knew that I’d never get back to sleep until the supervisor left, so I stepped out, flannel p.j.’s, bedsocks and all and told her that I knew she’d get up, she was awake and I’d be sure that she got dressed. Luckily the supervisor believed me, or she was so pressed with her need to return to the Infirmary that she took a chance, for she left, Betts dressed, and I crawled back into bed.

We attended classes, learned the proper term was tbc., short for tuberculosis,  not T.B. which only means the tubercule bacilli. We assisted in pneumothorax, the artificial collapsing of a lung to rest it. We bathed and cared for the sicker patients in the Infirmary carrying out good aseptic technique. We became emotionally attached to some patients and our spirits waxed and waned along with theirs as their disease became cured or progressed.

Lucille Taylor

1947 NY State Student Nurse

of the Year--taken at Trudeau

However, the ‘real’ education occurred in off duty hours. The town boys got the names of every new group of girls and called our dormitory. They introduced us to the events of the season, be it skiing or swimming. They took us bowling, sledding, dancing and on long hikes to ‘Little Red’, the small cabin where Dr. Trudeau, the founder of the Sanatorium, had cured.

We answered our phone with ‘The Chicken Coop’, and we got plenty of calls! Gwen always answered with ‘Ain’t nobody here but us chickens’ but I refused to do so. Therefore, when Gwen as off duty, she RAN to answer any and all phone calls!

We were still at Trudeau in early April for Easter, so we went to church on Holy Thursday and on Easter Sunday with some of the local boys.

It was against rules to go out with patients, and for a very good reason, to avoid contracting the disease—but it was done. We were young and indestructible! (As a matter of fact, the students that I knew who did come down with tuberculosis were all exposed here at RGH via undiagnosed cases.)

It was a marvelous affiliation filled with lasting memories not the least of which is:

“TB or not TB,

That is the congestion.

Consumption be done about it?

Of cough, of cough!”