Prince Henry Hospital Nursing and Medical Museum

Prince Henry Hospital Nursing and Medical Museum Contact information, map and directions, contact form, opening hours, services, ratings, photos, videos and announcements from Prince Henry Hospital Nursing and Medical Museum, Medical and health, 2 Brodie Avenue, Matraville.

The museum was established in 2003 to preserve, educate and display the history of nurses, medical staff and infectious diseases throughout the hospital’s 122 years of operation.

Bedpan diaries PHHThe Job New Nurses Will NEVER Experience… Before everything became disposable…Before “single-use” was ...
17/05/2026

Bedpan diaries PHH

The Job New Nurses Will NEVER Experience…

Before everything became disposable…
Before “single-use” was the norm…

There was one task every nurse remembers —
and nobody ever volunteered for it.

The glass suction bottle.

You’d see it filling up…
And you already knew — yep, that’s mine

Just you and that heavy glass bottle.
The routine was always the same:

• Carry it carefully to the sluice
• Empty it (trying to keep it clean)
• Take it to the utility room
• Scrub it until it passed inspection
• Then send it off to be sterilized… and used all over again

And if you dropped it?

Game over.
That sound still lives in your head.

You learned fast:
How to spot the tiniest crack in the glass
How to check if the seal was just right
How to clean it well enough that no one sent it back

It wasn’t glamorous.
It wasn’t easy.
But it was part of the job — and you did it.

New nurses will never know that kind of shift.

NURSES, LET’S HEAR IT:

Did you ever drop one? Be honest…
What was your “trick” to getting them truly clean?

12/05/2026

Happy International Nurses Day!

"Before we understood germ theory, Florence Nightingale designed hospital wards with massive windows. Doctors mocked her. Then mortality rates dropped from 42% to 2%. She was right about everything—decades before science could explain why."

The Crimean War.

British soldiers were dying—not primarily from battle wounds, but from infections and disease in the military hospitals.
The mortality rate was a staggering 42%.
Then Florence Nightingale arrived.
She wasn't a doctor. She was a nurse—a profession that, at the time, was considered barely respectable work for women.
But Nightingale had radical ideas about what made people heal.
She looked at the overcrowded, dark, poorly ventilated hospital wards and immediately understood: the environment itself was killing patients.
So she started making changes that seemed absurd to the male doctors around her:
She opened windows. Insisted on constant fresh air.
She demanded rigorous cleaning. Everything. Constantly.
She brought in more lamps, maximized natural light, rearranged beds so patients could see outside.
The doctors thought she was wasting time on superficial nonsense.
Then something extraordinary happened.
Within months, the mortality rate dropped from 42% to 2%.
Forty-two percent to two percent.
Nightingale didn't know about bacteria. Germ theory wouldn't be widely accepted for another 20+ years.
But somehow, she knew.
After the war, Nightingale returned to England and became obsessed with hospital design.
She created what became known as the "Nightingale Ward"—long, rectangular rooms with massive windows on both sides, high ceilings for air circulation, and beds arranged to maximize each patient's access to natural light and fresh air.
Her principles were revolutionary:
Fresh Air: She insisted that stale air was dangerous, that constant ventilation was essential. (We now know stagnant air allows pathogens to concentrate and spread.)
Cleanliness: She demanded meticulous hygiene—of spaces, of linens, of hands. (Decades before we understood infection transmission.)
Natural Light: She observed that patients in sunny rooms recovered faster. She called sunlight "the best disinfectant." (We now know sunlight produces Vitamin D, regulates circadian rhythms, has antimicrobial properties, and measurably speeds healing.)
For over a century, hospitals around the world were built following Nightingale's design principles.
Those beautiful old hospital buildings with the enormous windows? Those long, bright wards? That was Nightingale's legacy.
Then, in the mid-20th century, we got "smarter."
Modern hospitals became sealed environments with artificial lighting, climate control, and windowless rooms. More "efficient." More "scientific."
And guess what happened?
Hospital-acquired infections increased. Patient recovery times lengthened. Depression and anxiety in hospitalized patients became epidemic.
Now, in the 21st century, we're finally returning to Nightingale's wisdom.
Modern research has proven what she somehow knew 170 years ago:

Natural light accelerates wound healing (proven in multiple studies)
Access to nature views reduces recovery time after surgery
Fresh air and ventilation dramatically reduce infection rates
Circadian rhythm disruption (from artificial light) impairs immune function

We're building hospitals with windows again. With gardens. With natural light.
We're calling it "evidence-based design."
Florence Nightingale called it common sense.
Here's what astonishes me about this story:
Nightingale didn't have the scientific tools to understand why her methods worked. She didn't know about bacteria, viruses, Vitamin D synthesis, circadian biology, or immune function.
But she trusted her observations. She paid attention to what actually helped patients heal.
And she was right about everything.
The male doctors of her era dismissed her as emotional, unscientific, overly focused on "comfort" instead of "real medicine."
But her "comfort measures" saved thousands of lives.
Her "superficial" concerns about light and air turned out to be fundamental to human health.
Her "feminine" attention to the patient's environment was more scientifically sound than the mainstream medical approach of her time.
Florence Nightingale died in 1910 at age 90, having revolutionized nursing, hospital design, and medical statistics (she was also a pioneering data scientist, but that's another story).
Her principles influenced hospital architecture for over 100 years.
Then we forgot them. Got "modern." Built sealed boxes.
Now we're remembering. Building windows again. Letting the light in.
Sometimes the most revolutionary thing you can do is pay attention to what actually works—even when you don't understand why.
Sometimes intuition based on careful observation is more valuable than theory divorced from reality.
Sometimes the wisdom everyone dismisses as "soft" or "unscientific" turns out to be the hardest, most scientific truth of all.
The next time you see an old hospital with those beautiful, enormous windows, remember:
That's not just architecture. That's Florence Nightingale saying "I told you so" across 170 years.
And she was right!
Weren’t you fortunate to train and work at Prince Henry Hospital.
Today we are releasing our medal and uniform collections on e-Hive. Com under Prince Henry Hospital Medical and Nursing Museum.They have all been catalogued and archived by our wonderful volunteers.

Bedpan diaries of PHHIf you trained back when hospitals were built different… you already know.Back when stretchers were...
09/05/2026

Bedpan diaries of PHH

If you trained back when hospitals were built different… you already know.
Back when stretchers were basically metal rockets with wheels.
No fancy steering.
No smart brakes.
No “glide assist.”
Just you…
A long hallway…
And a trolley that picked up speed like it had somewhere VERY urgent to be.
You’d give it one confident push leaving the unit—
And suddenly you’re speed-walking behind it like:
“Please let me make this corner without taking out anything.”
Those waxed floors?
Ice rink smooth.
Those hallways?
Endless.
Those elevators?
Always on the other side of the building.
And somehow… we still made it to X-ray on time.
The new equipment might be high-tech now —
But it doesn’t build character like those old stretchers did.
Drop a if you survived the runaway stretcher era.
Tell me your best “back in the day” PHH transport story especially the wheeling beds outside on Curie and Darwin Avenues.

Bedpan diaries of PHHBefore computers…before scanning meds…before clicking boxes…There was paper.Real paper charts.Heavy...
03/05/2026

Bedpan diaries of PHH

Before computers…
before scanning meds…
before clicking boxes…

There was paper.

Real paper charts.
Heavy folders.
Pages stuffed with notes.
Tabs worn out from being opened 50 times a shift.

And the Kardex…

If you know, you KNOW.

That little card held the whole patient story.
Meds. Diet. Treatments. Allergies. Notes.
Everything you needed—right there in your handwriting.

And handwritten doctor’s orders?

Half the time it looked like a secret language.
But somehow… nurses always figured it out.

You didn’t “check the chart” on a screen.

You walked to the desk.
Flipped through papers.
Used your brain.
Used your memory.
And double-checked with your team like your registration depended on it…

because it did.

Back then, nursing wasn’t digital.

It was hands-on.
It was teamwork.
It was messy… exhausting… and REAL.

And somehow… it made you sharper.

Old-school nurses… tell me the truth:
Do you miss paper charts and the Kardex days?

Bed pan diaries of PHHCalling the doctor at home.Standing there for a second before dialing.Made sure another nurse was ...
25/04/2026

Bed pan diaries of PHH

Calling the doctor at home.
Standing there for a second before dialing.
Made sure another nurse was there to double check orders.
You checked the chart one more time.
Rechecked the vitals.
Ran the situation through your head — twice.
Because once you picked up that phone, it had to be right.
The line rang into a quiet house.
You pictured the lights off, dinner dishes done.
Someone half-asleep on the other end.
Your voice stayed steady even if your heart didn’t.
You reported facts, not feelings.
You chose your words carefully.
No rambling. No guessing.
There was a pause.
Then orders — clear, firm, final.
You wrote fast, read them back, and said “Yes, doctor,” with a confidence you learned through experience.
Asked them to repeat to second nurse.
You didn’t make those calls unless they mattered.
And when you did, you owned them.
If you remember standing by that phone, holding your breath while it rang…
you remember what responsibility really felt like.
What was the hardest call you ever had to make?

The Coast Chapel and car park were overflowing this morning as our community gathered in large numbers to remember and p...
25/04/2026

The Coast Chapel and car park were overflowing this morning as our community gathered in large numbers to remember and pay their respects at the ANZAC Day Dawn Service in Little Bay.

We extend our sincere thanks to our special guests, the Reverend Ryan Austin‑Eames, for his poignant and moving commemorative address, and Councillor Bill Burst for his attendance and contribution to this morning’s service.

It was deeply touching to witness our community come together at first light, share in the solemnity of the occasion, watch the sunrise over Little Bay, and then join us at the museum for Anzac biscuits and a cuppa.

Lest we forget.

We remember with deep gratitude all who served - the soldiers, nurses, doctors, stretcher bearers, volunteers, and every...
24/04/2026

We remember with deep gratitude all who served - the soldiers, nurses, doctors, stretcher bearers, volunteers, and every brave soul who stepped forward during times of war and peace. Their courage, sacrifice, and compassion shaped our nation's story.
Today, we honour their service, mourn their loss, and carry forward their legacy of resilience and care.
Lest we forget.

On 16 April, PHHTNA Committee Members Leone and Adrienne proudly attended Randwick City Council’s ANZAC Civic Reception ...
22/04/2026

On 16 April, PHHTNA Committee Members Leone and Adrienne proudly attended Randwick City Council’s ANZAC Civic Reception to receive the ANZAC Banner honouring Sister Sarah Elizabeth Deane.
These banners are now displayed along Pine Avenue and across the local council area, ensuring her story is visible to the community she served with such devotion.
The Story of Sister "Digger" Deane
AUSTRALIAN ARMY
World War II
LITTLE BAY

Sarah completed her nursing training at Prince Henry Hospital and enlisted on 19 August 1940. She was ranked Captain and served in Greece, Syria and Palestine, for which she received the Greek Medal. She then served in the Southwest Pacific until she was discharged on 10 May 1946. After World War II, Sarah worked at Prince Henry Hospital in Little Bay until her retirement. She was affectionately known to staff and patients as "Digger Deane". She always made time to visit the servicemen who were admitted to the hospital to talk to them about where they served and their rehabilitation back to everyday life. Sarah inspired the Prince Henry nurses to build the Coast Chapel, which recognises all nurses who served during conflicts and those who paid the ultimate sacrifice. Today, the chapel is a war memorial.

Bedpan diaries of PHHThe Nurses CapThe nursing cap spoke volumes—without ever saying a word.The plain white cap marked t...
12/04/2026

Bedpan diaries of PHH

The Nurses Cap

The nursing cap spoke volumes—without ever saying a word.

The plain white cap marked the beginning: nervous hands, racing thoughts, and a heart full of determination. You were new, unsure, but ready to learn.

Then came the thin stripe—the long shifts, the first real responsibilities, earning respect one patient at a time. You were no longer just watching; you were becoming.

Next the second stripe- you were no longer the rookie and senior nurses held you in good stead, if they’ve completed one year it looks like they are a stayer!

And finally, the third stripe—the symbol of survival, strength, and sacrifice. Close to registration but not until final exams and practicums done!

Graduation as a Registered Nurse. Some got to wear a veil, but we all got our Hospital Medal pinned to our chest, worn with such pride.

Those stripes weren’t bought. It was earned through sleepless nights, tough lessons, and the moments that changed you forever.
These were the caps worn at the Coast Hospital and Prince Henry Hospital.

11/04/2026

Jim Greenstein
I still remember !

Today, I had a walk through the old museum at the now closed since 2003, Prince Henry Hospital in Sydney’s coastal suburb of Little Bay. It’s been established in what used to be Ward 1 of the 6 Florence Nightingale wards, the remainder being converted into very comfortable residential properties. As I strolled down the corridor to the southern end of the building I was struck with a profound realisation. 36 years ago as the advanced trainee in Nephrology and Renal Registrar on call, I sat at that elevated table in the early hours, around 2 AM, writing in the notes and staring at the observation telemetry readouts. I was looking after a patient in the room directly opposite who was quite ill and on urgent haemodialysis overnight for renal failure. So unwell infact, that the blood pressure was very low and I had to run a slow infusion of adrenaline into the venous line of the machine to keep the BP high enough to sustain dialysis. Fortunately, it worked and by morning the patient was off the machine and much improved.

Today, I climbed the stairs once more and sat again at that table, looking into the patient’s barricaded but otherwise intact room. The nurses, the patients, the hustle and bustle are all long gone, but It made me wonder how many of those people out there today, enjoying the glorious sunshine and living in what has become a rather salubrious suburb, know anything of the previous life of the Coast Hospital, such an important part of our city’s infectious, medical and surgical history for well over 100 years. I suspect not many, but some of us still remember !

Address

2 Brodie Avenue
Matraville, NSW
2036

Opening Hours

Tuesday 10am - 2pm
Sunday 10am - 3pm

Telephone

+61290190784

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