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Eve Drewelowe's journals, volumes II-III, 1950s
Page 039
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on my tray. The aspect of it looked somewhat fishy. Scrutinizing it suspiciously, I rang for a dietitian and asked whether the fish was fried. "Of course not! That fish is baked" was her unhesitant reply. "I will take your word for it, however, it certainly looks fried to me. Are you sure it is baked?" "Yes + quite. Ulcer patients fish is always baked," she repeated. I thought no more of it until distress buckled me up, clamped down, hung on - then, of course, I knew momentarily the fish was to blame. After a night of abdominal torture, not feeling too well, I was lying flat the next morning - something that didn't happen with me very often then. At the appearance of the physicians I cantankerously jumped upon them in one burst of words, "Somebody lied to me," I complained. "Somebody lied to me otherwise I wouldn't have eaten the fish, and I wouldn't be ill now. The dietitian told me especially the fish was baked. It wasn't baked! It was fried!" "Jarrie you go to the kitchen and find out whether the fish was fried." Dr Rivers commanded one of the fellows. Dr. Annis soon returned and announced that the kitchen had repeated the fish baked. "However," I was told, "the kitchen might have made a mistake in the trays." I was unconvinced. I know exactly what had happened! A hospital certainly gives one an opportunity to learn people - not in the usual superficial and artificial manner of social
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on my tray. The aspect of it looked somewhat fishy. Scrutinizing it suspiciously, I rang for a dietitian and asked whether the fish was fried. "Of course not! That fish is baked" was her unhesitant reply. "I will take your word for it, however, it certainly looks fried to me. Are you sure it is baked?" "Yes + quite. Ulcer patients fish is always baked," she repeated. I thought no more of it until distress buckled me up, clamped down, hung on - then, of course, I knew momentarily the fish was to blame. After a night of abdominal torture, not feeling too well, I was lying flat the next morning - something that didn't happen with me very often then. At the appearance of the physicians I cantankerously jumped upon them in one burst of words, "Somebody lied to me," I complained. "Somebody lied to me otherwise I wouldn't have eaten the fish, and I wouldn't be ill now. The dietitian told me especially the fish was baked. It wasn't baked! It was fried!" "Jarrie you go to the kitchen and find out whether the fish was fried." Dr Rivers commanded one of the fellows. Dr. Annis soon returned and announced that the kitchen had repeated the fish baked. "However," I was told, "the kitchen might have made a mistake in the trays." I was unconvinced. I know exactly what had happened! A hospital certainly gives one an opportunity to learn people - not in the usual superficial and artificial manner of social
Iowa Women’s Lives: Letters and Diaries
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