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Eve Drewelowe's journals, volumes II-III, 1950s
Page 079
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Then there was another day when I had been having much distress from my second-week -plus ulcer diet. When I espied Dr Smith in the chart-room, the fireworks began. We always did argue like chipmunks or even worse. We always were like a couple of scrapping children no matter what the subject. "When am I going to get some food I can eat?" I began with some spirit and heat. "Oh, you are just a sissy!" he related and in the would-be exclamation mark pause, I hurriedly interposed, "And so are you!" while he [unruffedly?] continued "We shall have to get you onto a less restricted diet to prevent you from getting night-blindness, rickets, xerophthamine --- " and he strung off a whole list of dread diseases he could think of while I stubbornly continued. "I could make a bowl of cream soup and a dish of jello that that would be less innocuous than those I had this noon. Moreover, I am perfectly willing to eat, given a reasonable amount of distress, but I am emphatically not going through all the food-torture that I have known all these years." All the while Smith was busily writing a long technical order in the order book without opportunity paying me too much attention. This incensed me all the more. The long order was finished and without hesitation or pause a line was skipped and the pen went on to the next. He was facing me, I glanced down and got an upside down image of the entire page with this notation at the end, "Van Ek - Let her make her own jello and bowl of soup." I thereupon convulsed, collapsed with laughter. Smith got up, his eyes dancing, strode to the door shaking with merriment and as he swept away he admitted over his shoulder, "I think that is pretty good." I could but acquiesce. Everyone - nurses and cotors and patients were quite amused for a number of days at the impromptu were quite amused for a number of days at the impromptu side. And so was I, and still ma tickled. I insisted however that if I were to go on kitchen duty. I should also be promoted to payroll
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Then there was another day when I had been having much distress from my second-week -plus ulcer diet. When I espied Dr Smith in the chart-room, the fireworks began. We always did argue like chipmunks or even worse. We always were like a couple of scrapping children no matter what the subject. "When am I going to get some food I can eat?" I began with some spirit and heat. "Oh, you are just a sissy!" he related and in the would-be exclamation mark pause, I hurriedly interposed, "And so are you!" while he [unruffedly?] continued "We shall have to get you onto a less restricted diet to prevent you from getting night-blindness, rickets, xerophthamine --- " and he strung off a whole list of dread diseases he could think of while I stubbornly continued. "I could make a bowl of cream soup and a dish of jello that that would be less innocuous than those I had this noon. Moreover, I am perfectly willing to eat, given a reasonable amount of distress, but I am emphatically not going through all the food-torture that I have known all these years." All the while Smith was busily writing a long technical order in the order book without opportunity paying me too much attention. This incensed me all the more. The long order was finished and without hesitation or pause a line was skipped and the pen went on to the next. He was facing me, I glanced down and got an upside down image of the entire page with this notation at the end, "Van Ek - Let her make her own jello and bowl of soup." I thereupon convulsed, collapsed with laughter. Smith got up, his eyes dancing, strode to the door shaking with merriment and as he swept away he admitted over his shoulder, "I think that is pretty good." I could but acquiesce. Everyone - nurses and cotors and patients were quite amused for a number of days at the impromptu were quite amused for a number of days at the impromptu side. And so was I, and still ma tickled. I insisted however that if I were to go on kitchen duty. I should also be promoted to payroll
Iowa Women’s Lives: Letters and Diaries
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