craigdailypress.com

Just before 6 a.m. Thursday, Amanda Dieter, 21, was wheeled down the hallway of The Memorial Hospital with her newborn son, Branson, in her arms.

Branson was placed in a small car seat and kept close to his mother. He was about to make his first journey, a historic one for not only him, but also TMH.

Before the sun came up Thursday morning, eight patients were moved from The Memorial Hospital on Russell Street to a new, 77,000-square-foot hospital at 750 Hospital Loop, west of Craig.

When the last patient left, the Russell Street building closed as a hospital for good.

The move went off without a hitch, but it took more than a year of planning, preparation and anticipation to get to that point.

Samantha Johnston, TMH chief of organizational excellence, said she woke in the middle of the night after a nightmare that the ambulance doors at the new hospital wouldn’t open.

She got out of bed and drove to the new hospital, just to push the button and make sure.

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” she said after Dieter was loaded into the ambulance.

However, she said the actual move was one of the easier parts of the new hospital project.

“We take people and put them in ambulances and move them all the time,” she said.

In the emergency wing of the new hospital, there was an audible buzz of excitement.

Staff members outfitted in their new uniforms snapped pictures of one another while they anxiously waited for the first patient to arrive.

At 5:55 a.m., TMH chief executive officer George Rohrich made a statement.

“TMHers,” he began. “Today, Nov. 12, 2009, at 6 a.m., I declare The Memorial Hospital at Craig at 750 Hospital Loop Road, Craig, Colo., open for business.

“Congratulations for your diligent and hard work, which has made this moment possible.”

As Dieter was unloaded from the ambulance and wheeled into the soft glow of the new emergency wing, the TMH staff erupted in cheers.

Rohrich personally welcomed Dieter to the new hospital.

“The patients are the fun part,” Rohrich said. “Giving that speech was a little tough, but it’s all easy from here.”

At the old building, nurse Agnes Gillam leaned against the wall of an emergency hallway while each of the eight patients were loaded into ambulances at three-minute intervals.

On either side of her were two young nurses, both of whom had been born since Gillam began working at TMH 37 years ago.

Across from her stood emergency room nurse Charity Neal, whose children Gillam delivered.

The group quietly talked about leaving their home of so many years.

Then, over the loudspeaker, a soft and almost apologetic voice announced that the Russell Street campus had officially closed.

“Progress is never bad,” Gillam said. “But there’s always a little touch on your heart when something like this happens. It’s a lonely feeling, a strange feeling, and it’s like, ‘Where do we go from here?’”

Outside the main entrance of the Russell Street building, David Moore stood in the navy blue of the early morning light wearing a T-shirt and jeans.

He turned and faced the building where he had spent 22 years of his life, and crossed his arms across his chest.

Maintenance technicians were working to remove the old sign and replace it with one that said “The Memorial Hospital Medical Clinic,” as the old hospital building soon will house a clinic on the main floor.

“After so much time here, it’s going to be different to not drive down this street every day,” Moore said.

Moore started working for TMH at age 22 as an emergency medical technician.

After a brief stint as a coal miner, he’s now a surgical technician and about to turn 44.

After his birthday Sunday, he will have spent half of his life at TMH. And a giant birthday present waited for him on Hospital Loop.

At noon Thursday, he and several other “old-timers” performed the first surgery in the new hospital.

“It’s the same surgery,” he said. “Just a different room, that’s all. After looking at all those plans, we finally get to see the one we needed.”

Inside the near empty hallways of the now defunct hospital, the night shift was finishing up their duties and preparing to go home and rest.

“I’m just going to go to bed,” Gillam said, as she hoisted her bag over her shoulder and dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

As she walked down the brown-carpeted hallway for the last time, Neal walked up beside her friend to comfort her.

“It’s alright Agnes, you’re going to a new home,” she said. “As long as you’re there, it will be a new home.”