Facing the Probie Chaser: A Lesson in Grace

At the start of her three‑year diploma training, Genevieve Lehuanani OʻKilauea Freitas—Kanaka Maoli and a new “probie”—found herself facing a senior apprentice, a notorious “probie chaser,” after mixing up orders. She braced for the worst.

“I remember my first fundamentals of nursing class in 1951 with Miss Byres. As soon as it finished, I headed to the hospital floor. Oh boy, that turned out to be the worst day of my life—or at least, that’s how it felt to the young me. The senior nurse, my probie chaser, was Miss LaSalle. I had just two patients because I was brand-new. One had an inguinal hernia repair, and the other had a hemorrhoidectomy. And, well . . .” She exhaled sharply, her voice slipping into the present tense as she was transported back to the ward. “I get my patient with the hernia repair ready for a sitz bath. I have him sitting on the edge of the bed, but now he’s looking diaphoretic—sweating buckets. I don’t notice anything strange because I’m too focused on the checklist in my head. I give him a partial bed bath first, but I use too much soap. He’s a hairy man, so now there are bubbles everywhere. What a mess!

“All the while, I’m being very modest—this is a Catholic hospital, after all. I’ve got him covered in layers and layers of sheets. I never even look at his genitals, like they don’t exist. Then I get the sitz bath ready, check the water temperature, put a cloth down. I think I’m doing everything right. I get him into the bath, bubbles and all. And suddenly he’s saying, ‘Ow, ow, ow!’ He’s clearly uncomfortable, but he’s a good patient; he just follows my directions. Meanwhile, I move on to my other patient—the one who was actually ordered to have the sitz bath—and I get him up and walking instead. Finally, at the end of the shift, I get both patients back into bed. By then, all three of us are absolutely exhausted.”

Gennie’s expression darkened. “Then I go to the nurses’ station to chart. And that’s when my heart drops into my stomach. My eyes are wide as saucers. I look at the orders and realize—oh no. I mixed up the names. I gave a sitz bath to the man who was supposed to be walking, and I walked the man who was supposed to be soaking. My whole body goes hot. My heart is pounding against my ribs. I start panicking, thinking, That’s it. I’m done. How am I going to get back to Hawai‘i? What will I tell Māmā?”

She clapped a hand over her chest, the memories flickering like sunlight through the leaves. “I run all over looking for Miss LaSalle. My unit is on the third floor, right in front of the chapel, which is no comfort at that moment, believe me! When I finally find her, I’m

gasping for air. I blurt out, ‘Miss LaSalle, I mixed up my orders!’ She looks me up and down, cool as a cucumber, and asks, ‘Is the dressing wet?’”   

Gennie hunched her shoulders. “I don’t even know what she’s talking about! ‘Dressing?’ I say, like I’d never heard the word. She rushes down to the room, sees the soapy disaster I’ve created, and immediately fixes things. Meanwhile, I’m standing there shaking. I just know I’m getting kicked out of training. Then the head nurse comes. Then the doctor. Finally, Sister Eaves. I’m in the middle of all of them, getting a verbal scolding while the other probies stare at me. I’m crying, thinking, Genevieve, you might as well just forget about being a nurse. 

“But what happened next was the biggest surprise of my life.” She folded her arms, settling back into the banyan’s shade. “Miss LaSalle takes my hand, looks me in the eye, and says, ‘It wasn’t life or death. I trust you’ve learned how important it is to follow directions.’ Then she tells me the four words that save me: ‘You can continue training.’

“I was so shocked. ‘I can stay?’ I finally asked. She just nodded and walked away. I never forgot that. It taught me about the power of grace, and probie chasers. She could’ve ended my career right there, but she didn’t. And from that day on, I never, ever got an order wrong again.”