How I was granted a chance for a life's work

In 1974, I turned 20 and already had a resume that included working in Huntington Laundry on New York Avenue, a lumber mill in Vermont and, like many other young women, waitressing.

I answered an ad for a janitor needed in Fort Hill Animal Hospital in Huntington and sent in my qualifications, emphasizing my familiarity with Brillo pads, Ajax and Clorox. I got the job and soon found myself promoted to an “as needed” surgical assistant and general animal handler.

I learned take-down techniques, medication administration, and the surprising satisfaction that accompanies lancing and draining feline facial abscesses. Dr. Henry Travis was new at the time, and the now-legendary veterinarian had me assist in one of his first gastric torsions of a Great Dane. Let’s just say I really used my mopping skills. The most fun were the C-sections necessitated by cephalopelvic disproportion, a mismatch between the size of the fetal head and maternal pelvis. I loved helping wake up those newborn puppies, sleepy from maternal anesthesia.

Back then, a one-bedroom apartment was affordable at about $230 a month with a minimum-wage job, unlike today. I had a cozy place on top of what was Mama Jean’s Pizzeria in East Northport and managed to stay afloat with the help of family, faith and food stamps. It soon became evident that I would need more money as my son, who had survived a serious bout with meningitis as a baby, would need hearing aids and speech therapy. I made $10 a week over the limit for Medicaid and refused to “just go on welfare,” as many suggested. “Dr. Travis,” as we always addressed him, and the other veterinarians thought I would be a good candidate for the nursing profession, so I applied to Wilson Tech in Northport, part of the BOCES program. I was accepted into the Licensed Practical Nursing program and was advised on how to apply for tuition assistance.

I qualified for a Pell Grant and was awarded the entire tuition of $1,500. I was grateful beyond belief and only recently started wondering why it was called that and who, exactly, should I thank. It seems that in 1965, Congress passed the Higher Education Act to benefit lower- and middle-income students. Later, in 1972, because of the influence of Sen. Claiborne Pell, a Democrat from Rhode Island, reforms were made to include vocational schools and the HEA act became known as the Pell Grant. So, thank you, Sen. Pell (RIP), and all taxpayers.

Working nights at Huntington Hospital as an LPN gave me a lot of experience, and I not only could afford the hearing aids and therapy my son needed but also was able to further fund my education, as I got my license as a registered nurse. One of the best things about community colleges is that most of their graduates find employment.

Paying taxes is an inevitable part of living in society, and I have had issues, certainly, with exactly how my tax dollars are spent. Nearly 7 million people have benefited from the Pell Grant, which changed my life, and I am grateful that my own tax dollars have given me the opportunity to help others.

As for my son, Justin turned out just fine, having just celebrated his 50th birthday. I call him “the guy with one wife, two jobs and three kids.”

Reader Ann Rita D'Arcy lives in Huntington Station.