Transcribe
Translate
Eve Drewelowe's journals, volumes II-III, 1950s
Page 075
More information
digital collection
archival collection guide
transcription tips
Upon the day designated for the sword swallowing act I had no food as usual upon such an occasion. St. Mary's must make a sizable profit off of its medical patients - the stomach aches - for they are forever going without meals. At such at time - under a decided nervous strain - I am apprehensive, exceedingly restless and talkative. As usual too, I was sent down to the Colonial Hospital soon after the lunch hour - and as customarily, I had to sit and lie and bite my fingernails for an interval that seemed hours before they were ready for one in the operating room. This is my fourth gastroscopy - was bad enough the second worst I have ever known. However, it didn't begin to compare to the one that had gone before by some two weeks. This difference is easily explainable by our improved condition of the mucous membrane of the stomach. The doctors upon gastroscopic examination remarked that the membrane was healing nicely, "there was remarkable improvement" and "it doesn't look like the same stomach." The erosions and ulcerations of two weeks back had disappeared, I was told; however I still had a bad case of [cartarchal?] gastritis - a kind that is hard to heal and responds much more slowly to treatment than ulcers. Consequently towing the mucous membrane is an impossible task. As it happened, I wasn't dismissed nor was I sent home. No one said anything farther about throwing me out. After the ordeal of the gastroscopy, the subject of my leaving was not again broached and seemed to have become one of the
Saving...
prev
next
Upon the day designated for the sword swallowing act I had no food as usual upon such an occasion. St. Mary's must make a sizable profit off of its medical patients - the stomach aches - for they are forever going without meals. At such at time - under a decided nervous strain - I am apprehensive, exceedingly restless and talkative. As usual too, I was sent down to the Colonial Hospital soon after the lunch hour - and as customarily, I had to sit and lie and bite my fingernails for an interval that seemed hours before they were ready for one in the operating room. This is my fourth gastroscopy - was bad enough the second worst I have ever known. However, it didn't begin to compare to the one that had gone before by some two weeks. This difference is easily explainable by our improved condition of the mucous membrane of the stomach. The doctors upon gastroscopic examination remarked that the membrane was healing nicely, "there was remarkable improvement" and "it doesn't look like the same stomach." The erosions and ulcerations of two weeks back had disappeared, I was told; however I still had a bad case of [cartarchal?] gastritis - a kind that is hard to heal and responds much more slowly to treatment than ulcers. Consequently towing the mucous membrane is an impossible task. As it happened, I wasn't dismissed nor was I sent home. No one said anything farther about throwing me out. After the ordeal of the gastroscopy, the subject of my leaving was not again broached and seemed to have become one of the
Iowa Women’s Lives: Letters and Diaries
sidebar
