Making Plans

Further excerpts from my hospital journal...

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

October 1, 1957:

Early this morning as I lay thinking about my ideas for going to the San Francisco bay area, it occurred to me that some other things must happen to make the plan feasible. First think I must do is start conquering my two major faults.

One, I talk too goddam much to too many people about my personal problems and plans. So I must start being close-mouthed; after all, there are many fascinating topics of conversation in this world and I should begin to develop an ability to discuss some of them. Not being stupid, this shouldn't be hard to do. I guess the reason I respond so readily to a little interest in sympathy is that I am constantly looking for someone or something to anchor to. I must realize that I am my own anchor and my son's as well. I do not consider myself weak-willed, so surely I can accept this responsibility.

Two, the other fault I must work on is this terrible impatience of mine. How very immature it is to not be able to sit back and wait for the natural course of events instead of trying to rush things. Well, I'll have good practice in overcoming that during next few months.

The Countess was in this evening and I discussed all this with her...she thinks I'm on the right track and is all for me. She has some excellent contacts down in San Francisco too, and said she'll go down with me when I'm ready to scout the situation. She is a grand gal, so easy to talk to and so full of good common sense. She's completely realistic in her viewpoint on life and has helped me in many ways.

October 12, 1957:

I can hardly wait to see the Countess and hear what she has to say about "Operation House Hunt". I must admit that the idea of the three of us sharing that big old house really appeals to me...five bedrooms! what a fantastic scheme, but it's just hare-brained enough that it might work, and very nicely too! I think it would be all kinds of fun and would make these next few months somehow easier for me to bear. But I'm not pinning my hopes on this arrangement. I certainly wouldn't blame her for being cautious about entering into it.

Later, same day:

Well, it turned out not to be feasible. Too dirty, no refrigerator and to much time effort and money required to fix it up. So, the Countess found me another place, an apartment. It sounds nice, a fireplace and a piano! So she is moving my stuff this weekend, bless her...she was going to try to get Norma to help, and I gave her $5.00 to buy a bottle with. Seems odd that I'll be living in the place for a couple of weeks before I ever see it!

October 14, 1957:

I wanted so very much to write in this book last night while the events of the day were still fresh in my mind, but Mrs. Ingersoll and our new room-mate, Mrs. Waite, were early abed and I was afraid the light might disturb them. I sat in the solarium and watched TV until nine o'clock...saw the big Edsel show with Bing and Frank and Rosemary Clooney. It was pretty good.

The day started out in a very ordinary fashion, just like every day in the hospital. It had rained the night before and was still raining in the morning...a gray, dreary, altogether grim day. I didn't get dressed as I've been doing, and my hair was dank and limp from needing a shampoo.

About a quarter of two, Paul poked his head in the door and my whole silly inside went flip-flop from the shock of seeing him for the first time in three months. I managed to make my greeting casual however, and we talked for about half an hour. It was all very impersonal but friendly, like a couple of old pals. I don’t know why it pleased me so to see that his hands were shaking when he lit a cigarette for me. He looks the same, very much the strong young Viking and I ached to touch his face and try to soothe the unhappiness out of his eyes. He is still a very mixed up character who doesn't know what he wants because he is so afraid of being hurt again.

I cried when he left...cried for all the times we danced and went gold-panning and sat up in the road by Sierra School to watch the lights of Main Street. I cried for a love that was smothered by pain and suffering and a sense of duty. I wish he had not come to see me yesterday, for while I don't love him I do care about him. That line from Kahlil Gibran's "The Prophet" expresses it perfectly..."to know the pain of too much tenderness".

Well, as if Paul's visit weren't enough, things went on at a bewildering pace. Martha came in just as I finished talking to the Countess. We had a nice, but short, visit, terminated by the arrival of Jack, bearing magazines and newspapers. He only stayed about five minutes, then left, as it was supper time. Early in the evening Mom called me long-distance and we had a nice visit. She was worried because someone had tried to call her and the connection was so poor she couldn't hear them. I filled her in on all the latest dope and we hung up. Shortly after that Gregory Hall brought his mother and dad up to meet me. They offered to keep my son this next weekend since Theresa is going to be having a houseful of company. What makes people so wonderful sometimes? I accepted gratefully. While they were here I had another long-distance call, this time from Alice, who is up to her ears in trouble. Her family and her ex-husband are hauling her into court in an attempt to take the girls away from her, claiming she was an unfit mother during the year she was at the lake. I of course offered to do anything I could. She said Charlotte and Julian were going to drive down for the trial. Poor Alice. It would kill her to lose those girls and the charge is so ridiculous. I couldn't sleep last night thinking about it. How I hope it works out okay. She promised to let me know right away if she wants me to send a deposition.

October 18, 1957:

A long letter from Alice came on Wednesday and I dispatched an answer off to her. I also wrote a letter to her attorney as she requested and tried to give her all the help I could. It was difficult to know what would be the best thing to say that would be most helpful to him. Oh, how I hope that she doesn't lose her girls. It would be the worst thing that could happen to her, for then I think she would actually become as bad as her family seems to think she already is.