"Where Can I Stay?"
The elderly Negro woman who was referred to Houston's M.D. Anderson Hospital for Cancer Research posed a tougher problem for the socialworkers than for the doctors. She had cancer of the cervix.She was hundreds of miles from home, and needed a place near by to livefor three months while she took regular X-ray treatments as anoutpatient. Mrs. Edna Wagner, tireless and efficient director of socialservice at Anderson Hospital, shook her head: there was no suitablehousing for such a patient in segregated Houston. But the woman had ason living in the city. Against her own better judgment, Mrs. Wagnertold the patient to stay with her son's family of four in a one-roomapartment.
Within six weeks, the patient was back and told Mrs. Wagner: "I'm goinghome. I'm causing trouble, crowding my son and daughter-in-law, and I'drather die than cause trouble." A few months later the neglected cancerhad spread uncontrollably, and she died. Says Mrs. Edna Wagner: "I toldmyself that this couldn't happen any more."
Profit from Song. It does not happen any more now, because Mrs. Wagnerorganized an all-out effort by the Negro community to set up a 25-bedconvalescent home where Anderson Hospital's Negro outpatients can stayat little or no cost. Last weekend a thousand rich Negro voices welledup in the Sam Houston Coliseum in the half-resigned, half-hopeful wordsof favorite spirituals and hymns. Children pantomimed angels anddevils, flowers and animals, while a narrator boomed James WeldonJohnson's words in The Creation and Listen, Lord. With an audience of4,000 and a big advance ticket sale, there was a tidy profit of almost$12,000 to underwrite the convalescent home for the next two years.There are separate and similar accommodations for English-speakingwhites and still others for those of Mexican extraction. Last year morethan one-fourth of Anderson's 4,098 cancer patients were housed in thefacilities organized by Edna Wagner.
Though housing is often the most critical, it is by no means the onlyproblem that patients lay before Mrs. Wagner, a stocky, pink-facedwoman of 42, and members of her staff. Since 90% of the tax-supportedcancer hospital's patients are charity cases, drawn from all overTexas, most are grievously ill when they arrive and are far from homeor relatives. They face long and perhaps uncomfortable treatment. Theydo not know what to expect.
Courage on the Plains. "We have to make the patient feel that the staffis interested in him as a person," says Edna Wagner. "We explain thathe may have several days of tests before the doctors decide on thetreatment for his case. We may remind a wind-tanned cowpoke fromLubbock, who's telling of the rugged old days on the plains, that hemay need some of that same courage here. We have to reassure some, likethe old Negro who said: 'I ain't afraid of dying—I'm just afraid ofsuffering.' "
Patients who speak Spanish but no English and cannot get used toAmerican food posed a special problem. Now, each of them is allowed tohave one bilingual member of his family stay in the home and accompanyhim to the hospital as interpreter, and cook Mexican-style dishes tothe patient's taste.
A patient may face other crises: when the doctors decide on drasticsurgery, when prolonged treatment breeds despair, or when the timecomes to go home after a disfiguring amputation. On all such occasions,Mrs. Wagner's staff is busy with explanations and encouragement.
When Mrs. Wagner was organizing the concert to support the NegroConvalescent Home, a community leader asked her: "Isn't thisperpetuating segregation?" Louisiana-born Edna Wagner retorted: "I'mnot trying to settle the race problem of the South—I'm not smartenough for that. I'm trying to help sick people."
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