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Eve Drewelowe's journals, volumes II-III, 1950s
Page 090
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in the laboratory. I smiled and said I was fine to reassure them that I was all right. It was not the first time a doctor had been called for me before a test could continue. Not the first time I had caught my heel on the rung of the hoop when I attempted to jump through it. Soon I began to feel better. In another half-hour the Mecholyl was finished; the test thus complete; the machine disconnected and wheeled away. As Dr Tooke now got another needle and began preparing the Histamine injection, I reminded him, "Histamine always gives me such a knock out headache, might I not have less of it?" "Yes we know," he made ready reply, "and are therefore giving you a small dose." By this time he firmly forced the needle into my arm; pressed the plunger. With the histamine injection the blood rushed to my head and -as always - it throbbed wildly; painfully. Wet, cold compresses were laid on my forehead. I mustered all my fortitude as the more than an endurance test continued. My tummy hurt; my head hurt; I hurt. Nothing much seemed to matter any more, I was that levelled. An hour; an hour and a half ticked thus away. A set of test-tubes, one by one, had been siphoned complete in logical order and had been removed. I struggled on. The morning- long eons of time - eventually was being overpowered by approaching noontime. Dropping perceptibly, I was bundled into a wheel-chair - a sick gal
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in the laboratory. I smiled and said I was fine to reassure them that I was all right. It was not the first time a doctor had been called for me before a test could continue. Not the first time I had caught my heel on the rung of the hoop when I attempted to jump through it. Soon I began to feel better. In another half-hour the Mecholyl was finished; the test thus complete; the machine disconnected and wheeled away. As Dr Tooke now got another needle and began preparing the Histamine injection, I reminded him, "Histamine always gives me such a knock out headache, might I not have less of it?" "Yes we know," he made ready reply, "and are therefore giving you a small dose." By this time he firmly forced the needle into my arm; pressed the plunger. With the histamine injection the blood rushed to my head and -as always - it throbbed wildly; painfully. Wet, cold compresses were laid on my forehead. I mustered all my fortitude as the more than an endurance test continued. My tummy hurt; my head hurt; I hurt. Nothing much seemed to matter any more, I was that levelled. An hour; an hour and a half ticked thus away. A set of test-tubes, one by one, had been siphoned complete in logical order and had been removed. I struggled on. The morning- long eons of time - eventually was being overpowered by approaching noontime. Dropping perceptibly, I was bundled into a wheel-chair - a sick gal
Iowa Women’s Lives: Letters and Diaries
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