Some Autumn Thoughts

Further excerpts from my hospital journal...

Note: The names used in my journal are not the true names of the individuals.

October 1, 1957:

Fall is here, ushered in by thunder and lightning and hailstones big as golf balls. I'm glad I'll be out of here in time to enjoy it. I feel like I got completely cheated out of summer this year, but that's all right; I do like the fall months even if I did have to celebrate my 30^th birthday in a hospital bed!

The last two days have been very unhappy, especially yesterday, but I feel a bit better today. It seems as though I can go on just so long and then I have to flip my lid. Yesterday when Morgan came in and started in with the prying personal questions it just hit me wrong. Later when he wanted to explore the incision again I just couldn't bear it and so I told him I wanted to talk to my doctor first. Of course I know how he must hate that, but I tried to be nice about it. After my doctor left I gave in to all the despair and defeat and loneliness I have felt lately and cried to the point of making myself sick. So it was a pretty bad day.

My son came to see me in the afternoon and again in the evening, accompanied the second time by Mrs. Collins. The Countess came in the evening and I heard all the news about the soiree and her trip to San Francisco this coming weekend. She has more fun than anyone I know, and I have fun just knowing her.

The other night Dwight brought me a "stabile", a design made of three pieces of wood, some piano wire and some thread. It's quite interesting and makes a great conversation piece. When I talk to people like Dwight and Sylvia and the Countess I feel so ordinary and dull and sort of stolid. I wish I were clever and imaginative and interesting.

My son and Father Carey were in this afternoon and we had fun. Fr. Carey always makes me laugh a lot, he's so jolly looking and has the "laughiest" laugh I've ever heard. I have a feeling he's just biding his time before he starts to really work on me from the religious angle. It's too bad, 'cause that'll for sure be the end of a beautiful friendship.

Arthur was just in and said the x-ray he took yesterday turned out "pretty good" and seemed surprised that the doctor hadn't been in to see me and give me the report...hope that means the cast will be going on tomorrow or the next day.

October 4, 1957:

This weird backhand scribble started out as a whim, because I think a good backhand, like Gloria's or the Countess's looks so much more interesting than ordinary penmanship like my usual style. But now, the backhand is a case of necessity! Trying to write from a supine (or do I mean prone? Never can remember) position is quite a trick and I can't bend in the middle very well now so can't sit up to write. I had forgotten some of the hardships of being encased in plaster of Paris...I've been saying for four weeks now that I'd be so happy to be back in a cast and I will be happy as soon as I can get up on my crutches.

This is my first entry in the journal for several days so I'll have to fill in what has happened. I think this is one reason I was never able to keep up a real diary...I hated feeling obligated to write something in it every single day! What makes me tick, that I struggle so against some kinds of obligations...look at the bad time I give Mom...and yet, I'm not really consistent in my attitude either, for I always have a strong sense of duty and responsibility on my job. Sometimes I am quite convinced that I should never have married, but should have completed my education and pursued a professional career of some sort. I hate it that I am encumbered now with a sense that it's too late to try and follow such a course. Will I always be looking back and regretting what might have been? I hope not! I can think of no more futile existence.

But back to the original subject, catching up my journal. Monday night the Countess came and reported on the soiree. The foul weather kept people away in droves, but she sold a few things and felt quite pleased with herself. Can't write any more...my arm is tired.

October 8, 1957:

The Goodings just left. How did I ever get lucky enough to have a landlord like that? They told me to forget the rent until December first, then if I am able I can pay them back a little at a time for the two months I skipped. They brought fruit and candy and some clothes for me. I think I might feel better during the day if I got dressed before getting up in my wheelchair. It was a distinct blow yesterday when the doctor said I couldn't get up on my crutches yet, but I can see the wisdom in waiting for the drainage to stop. So I'll just continue on my daily tours of the hospital in my "perambulator"...at least I'm exercising my arms and shoulders!

I've been mentally very active today, setting up some sort of blueprint for my son's and my future. As soon as school is out in June we are moving down into the Bay Area. I have several good contacts down there and feel sure I could get an interesting, well-paying job. I could start to build something new and solid for my son and me. The University would be handy and I would like to go there and take some interest and aptitude tests to determine what type of courses would do me the most good. I would be bound to meet some stimulating people and broaden my scope in any ways....financially, intellectually and socially. I feel right about this decision and intend to start right now to prepare myself for the move.