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Eve Drewelowe's journals, volumes II-III, 1950s
Page 023
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out of sorts, disgruntled, woe begone! nauseated. "If I have to stay in this place can't that thing be hung away out of sight?" I demanded. "Oh I am so sorry. Surely it can be put away," replied the little corpulent lady in such apologetic voice. I was heartily ashamed of my early morning display of ill temper. My blood pressure was taken. I put down into my robe over my ship and was in front of the mirror arranging my coiffeur where a voice boomed through the room, "She is here, but she isn't in yet," and Dr. Rivers with his coterie at Mr D's - House doctors, fellows, visiting physicians, odds and ends, and the staff nurse - burst into the room and draped itself over the chairs and empty bed edges in order to survey the situation. True enough - I was there, but I wasn't in bed. it was quite a number of days before they managed to get me into bed by slow degrees - before I realized what the bed was for. No one forced me. I was gradually acclimated, and gradually accustomed to the idea. The psychology of these doctors was superb. The second morning the doctors found me all dressed up in pajamas before my improvised easel - in an old-time rocking chair in front of the tall broad windows. The bedside table was rigged up and tabled to the proper angle and made an excellent easel. There I was playing my trade to be sure. Watercolor! How exciting! "Now what have we here?" they demanded to know.
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out of sorts, disgruntled, woe begone! nauseated. "If I have to stay in this place can't that thing be hung away out of sight?" I demanded. "Oh I am so sorry. Surely it can be put away," replied the little corpulent lady in such apologetic voice. I was heartily ashamed of my early morning display of ill temper. My blood pressure was taken. I put down into my robe over my ship and was in front of the mirror arranging my coiffeur where a voice boomed through the room, "She is here, but she isn't in yet," and Dr. Rivers with his coterie at Mr D's - House doctors, fellows, visiting physicians, odds and ends, and the staff nurse - burst into the room and draped itself over the chairs and empty bed edges in order to survey the situation. True enough - I was there, but I wasn't in bed. it was quite a number of days before they managed to get me into bed by slow degrees - before I realized what the bed was for. No one forced me. I was gradually acclimated, and gradually accustomed to the idea. The psychology of these doctors was superb. The second morning the doctors found me all dressed up in pajamas before my improvised easel - in an old-time rocking chair in front of the tall broad windows. The bedside table was rigged up and tabled to the proper angle and made an excellent easel. There I was playing my trade to be sure. Watercolor! How exciting! "Now what have we here?" they demanded to know.
Iowa Women’s Lives: Letters and Diaries
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