The rose of St. Rose

Lisa Ferguson

Thursday, June 26, 1997 | 11:48 a.m.

Progress.

At St. Rose Dominican Hospital, it can be found in a winding hallway, where the light carpet ends and the bright white linoleum begins.

At least, that's where Sister Robert Joseph Bailey sees it. She makes certain others do, too.

"Stop!" her tiny voice commands.

She thrusts her thin arm sideways to keep a recent visitor at the sprawling Henderson facility from taking another step before acknowledging the significance of the spot, marked only by the change in floor cover.

This is where the original wing of St. Rose Dominican (formerly Rose de Lima) Hospital was expanded in 1960, with the addition of a three-story patient wing that sported a new emergency room, obstetrics unit and the town's first elevator.

Now if that isn't progress, Bailey doesn't know what is.

The 74-year-old nun is one of the few staffers at St. Rose -- which celebrates its 50th anniversary Friday -- who remembers those pre-linoleum years.

Back then, Boulder Highway was the main artery in and out of town, the hospital lacked air conditioning ... And the sisters raced gurneys through the corridors for fun.

Forgive them, Father.

"It was late at night," the silver-haired Bailey says. "We were all so young and we did all of these crazy things, but it was our only recreation if you think about it. "I tell you what, those early days were really early."

Earlier still, in '42, the U.S. government built the facility -- called Basic Magnesium Hospital -- to provide health care to Henderson's industrial workers and their families during World War II.

Afterward, Uncle Sam sold the place for $1 to the Adrian Dominican nuns of Adrian, Mich., who assumed all of its debts. One dozen sisters are currently on staff or volunteer at the hospital.

Bailey, a Detroit native and the middle sister to six bothers, became a nun nearly 60 years ago.

At least 14 of those years were spent as a schoolteacher in Michigan, Florida, Arizona and California prior to being assigned in '51 to teach fourth- and fifth-graders at the old St. Peter's school in Henderson.

She resided with the other sisters in small dormitories on St. Rose's grounds (one of them is now her office). During the evenings and on weekends, they lent a hand around the hospital wherever duty called.

"If you were able to scrub a floor, you did that," she says. Same went for making beds, cleaning instruments and folding "four-by-fours," oversized towels that were used during surgery.

It was Bailey's least favorite chore. So she taught her students how to fold them during the class's "medical time ... so I wouldn't have to do it. I taught them a lot of things so I wouldn't have to do it."

But she made it as fun as possible. "I made games out of everything I taught," she says.

And still does. A member of St. Rose's community education team, Bailey visits local elementary schools to teach children about healthful eating habits and how the heart and lungs function.

"A lot of times, I make up a little ditty so that they remember" the lesson. Like the "Banana" song.

I like bananas, I like bananas/Yes I do, yes I do/Bananas are so good for me/Bananas are so good for me/Yum, yum, yum/Yum, yum, yum.

"I figure if they can sing (television) commercials, then they can sing things I want them to remember, and it works like a charm," she says.

Three years ago, Bailey organized a group of hospital volunteers and initiated a weekly reading program for students at nearby McCaw Elementary School.

"What they're trying to do is give them guidance and show them how to read and sound (words) out," she explains, adding that, in addition to reading skills, "What improved was (the student's) self-confidence and self-image."

One youngster, speaking at the school's recent graduation ceremony, explained that once his reading improved, his classmates stopped teasing him.

"There was hardly a dry eye in the house," says Principal Janet Dobry. "The kids just love Sister Robert. It's kind of like having their favorite grandma come to visit."

"I make a darn fool of myself in front of the kids and I hold their attention that way," Bailey says. "It's good for them and it's good to see that an older person still has energy."

Though maybe not as much as she once had.

'Paging Sister Robert'

Bailey left St. Peter's in 1960 to take on the arduous task of overseeing the hospital's dietary department -- planning and cooking all of the patients' meals.

Green Jell-O? You bet, but she added fruit juice to give it a little zip. "It tasted a lot better," she assures.

The infirmed also have her to thank for giving them meal choices as opposed to a single entree served hospital-wide. "I had a hard time pushing for that, but (after three years) it finally made it through."

In recent years, though, Bailey has cut back on her hospital duties "a little bit, not a whole lot."

Officially, she's a part-time St. Rose employee and spends four hours a day helping lead support-group meetings and designing and implementing community education programs.

A point of pride is the Positive Impact program, which she created in '89 to cover the medical expenses for local children whose parents cannot afford to pay.

Though her shift ends around 11 a.m., Bailey continues to volunteer around the hospital throughout the day, making herself available to any department that will have her.

"I've always said I don't want to grow old," she says. "I want to enjoy life and really have fun and if you can enjoy your work ... it helps."

Sister Veronica Gonthier, who worked with her for 17 years prior to Bailey's retirement last fall, agrees. "Her work is truly her life," she says. "She is a deeply committed woman."

It didn't matter what was stewing in the kitchen, Gontheir says. If someone needed a shoulder to cry on, Bailey dropped what she was doing to "go into the emergency room to comfort a family."

Duty calls

She's also a living link to the hospital's past.

Bailey recalls the pair of emergencies that put St. Rose's medical expertise to the test.

The first was in 1973, when a propane-filled railroad car exploded in Kingman, Ariz., killing 12 people and injuring more than 100 others.

Several the severely burned were treated at St. Rose. The sisters were on hand to aid nurses and console patients.

"The skin was just peeling off and the odor was enough to kill ya," Bailey recalls. "The screaming that would go on. We yelled and screamed with them sometimes, too."

In May of '88, disaster struck closer to home, when the nearby PEPCON chemical plant exploded, killing two people.

Meanwhile, many of the 350 injured people sought treatment at St. Rose, where the blast shattered windows and cut electrical power.

"It was really crazy," Bailey says. Her job was to collect food from local stores and bring it to the hospital for distribution to area residents.

The events, Bailey says, also helped gauge the community's respect for the Catholic hospital, which was not widely accepted by people of other denominations when it first opened its doors.

"They didn't come to us as much, but we proved ourselves and ... now we have a terrific camaraderie with the other churches," she says.

Following PEPCON, several local religious leaders met at St. Peter's Catholic Church to lead prayers.

Proof that these days, "There's much more respect for one another's beliefs," she says. "We work together, not against each other. I like that very much."

Progress indeed.