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Eve Drewelowe's journals, volumes II-III, 1950s
Page 152
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quick reply. All in good time, I took steps, progressed to a bit of walking about the room as people will, and then I hiked the corridor with the aid of a nurse. There was talk of sending me down to the Kohler for a week before I could go home. I wasn't at all enthusiastic about having St Mary's for the Kohler and I questioned my ability to get along. I would much rather be sent home directly and at much less energy, then to have to fool around trying to manage by myself and forage on my arm. So again I bargained, "Let us forget about sending me to the Kohler from here. Let us just transfer me directly to my team and let it go at that. It would be much easier for me." "We can arrange that - of course - if you prefer. As a matter of fact you may stay here until you are ready to go. Your dismissal will be arranged that way," was the ready, agreeable, apparently willing answer. Since however, it became known that I wanted to transfer directly for home, this was all the more reason why it shouldn't be that way. The week away from the hospital is a sort of probation period - an interval in which to gain more strength, and also a time under observation when the physicians are able to determine whether you are able to go home or not. Since I wanted to do away with this interval as too trying the doctors were naturally suspicious and they had to know more surely whether I was able to make the trip home. You know - a wounded dog is going to rear for home as quickly as he can make it. He is going to run for shelter and he is going to find himself a hole and he is going to hide himself away in it. He is going to hide himself away and lick his wounds in privacy. I was overly willing, overly anxious to run away home to hide and lick my wounds but I wasn't permitted to. I might not go directly but must make the transfer to the Kohler, doubtful as I was about the advisability and the wisdom of the move. Then
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quick reply. All in good time, I took steps, progressed to a bit of walking about the room as people will, and then I hiked the corridor with the aid of a nurse. There was talk of sending me down to the Kohler for a week before I could go home. I wasn't at all enthusiastic about having St Mary's for the Kohler and I questioned my ability to get along. I would much rather be sent home directly and at much less energy, then to have to fool around trying to manage by myself and forage on my arm. So again I bargained, "Let us forget about sending me to the Kohler from here. Let us just transfer me directly to my team and let it go at that. It would be much easier for me." "We can arrange that - of course - if you prefer. As a matter of fact you may stay here until you are ready to go. Your dismissal will be arranged that way," was the ready, agreeable, apparently willing answer. Since however, it became known that I wanted to transfer directly for home, this was all the more reason why it shouldn't be that way. The week away from the hospital is a sort of probation period - an interval in which to gain more strength, and also a time under observation when the physicians are able to determine whether you are able to go home or not. Since I wanted to do away with this interval as too trying the doctors were naturally suspicious and they had to know more surely whether I was able to make the trip home. You know - a wounded dog is going to rear for home as quickly as he can make it. He is going to run for shelter and he is going to find himself a hole and he is going to hide himself away in it. He is going to hide himself away and lick his wounds in privacy. I was overly willing, overly anxious to run away home to hide and lick my wounds but I wasn't permitted to. I might not go directly but must make the transfer to the Kohler, doubtful as I was about the advisability and the wisdom of the move. Then
Iowa Women’s Lives: Letters and Diaries
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