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Eve Drewelowe's journals, volumes II-III, 1950s
Page 066
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76. operation progressed slowly. So what should have been a comparatively simple tonsillectomy proved to be a somewhat longer and more painful procedure than it otherwise might have been. The removal of the tonsils has done a great deal for me. The general condition has been improved thereby; there have been less and less frequent colds until now I scarsely have one from year to year. To get rid of the infection in the throat was also the best thing possible for my stomach. I also further clearly recall, those same first four years of life in the little duplex - the first small home we had picked together. There were two good friends - unmarried men of the faculty - who on occasion spent much time at our home. They frequently and regularly came in for Sunday night snacks. The one friend when he came loved to talk and have us listen. The other liked a three handed game of chance which we habitually played together. And since no one was responsible except unto himself, this childish amusement took on a spirit of reckless abandonment and fun. The game - not taken very seriously, I am afraid - could always be interrupted with hilarity and punctuated with discussion. The card table, on these evenings, was pulled up in front of the davenport with an upholstered chair flanking either side. Incongruously fitting into the vividly retained picture of my memory, however, is the hot water bottle that was needed on my stomach to help hold down the pain. In these times too, my husband liked to play bridge, and although I abhorred it intensely I made an especial effort to be congenial.
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76. operation progressed slowly. So what should have been a comparatively simple tonsillectomy proved to be a somewhat longer and more painful procedure than it otherwise might have been. The removal of the tonsils has done a great deal for me. The general condition has been improved thereby; there have been less and less frequent colds until now I scarsely have one from year to year. To get rid of the infection in the throat was also the best thing possible for my stomach. I also further clearly recall, those same first four years of life in the little duplex - the first small home we had picked together. There were two good friends - unmarried men of the faculty - who on occasion spent much time at our home. They frequently and regularly came in for Sunday night snacks. The one friend when he came loved to talk and have us listen. The other liked a three handed game of chance which we habitually played together. And since no one was responsible except unto himself, this childish amusement took on a spirit of reckless abandonment and fun. The game - not taken very seriously, I am afraid - could always be interrupted with hilarity and punctuated with discussion. The card table, on these evenings, was pulled up in front of the davenport with an upholstered chair flanking either side. Incongruously fitting into the vividly retained picture of my memory, however, is the hot water bottle that was needed on my stomach to help hold down the pain. In these times too, my husband liked to play bridge, and although I abhorred it intensely I made an especial effort to be congenial.
Iowa Women’s Lives: Letters and Diaries
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