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Eve Drewelowe's journals, volumes II-III, 1950s
Page 150
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bolted wide awake. "I am going to make certain I get you, before you get the potato this morning," he announced his intention. "This is a fine way to take advantage of a patient - crepe up on him in his sleep," I accused him. "The nurse read me the order and said I would require no stomach pumping if I didn't regurgitate anymore between supper and breakfast I haven't. Anyway who said I wanted my stomach pumped? I stormed. "You are my problem child," he said, "and we must make certain there is no obstruction." He fed me the tube clumsily. I took it badly! Awkwardly. I, who had prided myself in being the model tube-swallower the year before. I who had put many laboratory specimens to shame, who had taught and demonstrated so efficaciously the gentle art of tube-taking. Right now however, without my being so adept, so versed, it wouldn't go. Tubes were among the unmentionables and I could definitely not look me in the face, however hard I tried. Tubes before now had no terror for me, but now with my poor sick stomach, food was going badly enough; a tube impossible to force down. By pushing, shoving, swallowing, choking and gagging it was however, finally accomplished. Dr Marvis pumped but it was obvious there could have been no obstruction. At least we were certain if that one point - fortunately - otherwise it might have been questioned again and again in the month to come. Because of the headaches, there was an extra day or two of delay in reaching the point at which I was allowed laugh. The bedside table served as a prop otherwise I don't think I could have endured the ten minutes hanging my feet over the edge of
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bolted wide awake. "I am going to make certain I get you, before you get the potato this morning," he announced his intention. "This is a fine way to take advantage of a patient - crepe up on him in his sleep," I accused him. "The nurse read me the order and said I would require no stomach pumping if I didn't regurgitate anymore between supper and breakfast I haven't. Anyway who said I wanted my stomach pumped? I stormed. "You are my problem child," he said, "and we must make certain there is no obstruction." He fed me the tube clumsily. I took it badly! Awkwardly. I, who had prided myself in being the model tube-swallower the year before. I who had put many laboratory specimens to shame, who had taught and demonstrated so efficaciously the gentle art of tube-taking. Right now however, without my being so adept, so versed, it wouldn't go. Tubes were among the unmentionables and I could definitely not look me in the face, however hard I tried. Tubes before now had no terror for me, but now with my poor sick stomach, food was going badly enough; a tube impossible to force down. By pushing, shoving, swallowing, choking and gagging it was however, finally accomplished. Dr Marvis pumped but it was obvious there could have been no obstruction. At least we were certain if that one point - fortunately - otherwise it might have been questioned again and again in the month to come. Because of the headaches, there was an extra day or two of delay in reaching the point at which I was allowed laugh. The bedside table served as a prop otherwise I don't think I could have endured the ten minutes hanging my feet over the edge of
Iowa Women’s Lives: Letters and Diaries
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