Muddling Through

Further excerpts from my hospital journal...

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

October 18, 1957:

What a lovely sky-blue day this is! I feel as if something wonderful were about to happen to me. Sitting out here in the sun with a wonderful fresh air breeze blowing my hair it seems as though I can see this ordeal through with a happy heart if I can only have a busy mind and start to make a life for us by myself. I don't know why dependency is so very irksome to me, but it is. If life will only give me the chance I feel I can have self-respect and friendship and security through my own efforts. This job at the Welfare Department would be a start, but if I can go back to the telephone company I will be "back home" again, and I think I could build a future there. I have never wished for anything so much as I wish that Mr. Long would call and say he had on okay from the district office to hire me.

The view from this spot out back of the hospital is superb. On the next hill over is the lovely new home built by Ed Kelly and across the street from it is the old Catholic cemetery, the old-fashioned tombstones resting under pine and oak in the warm fall sunshine.

Later:

Another mysterious check for $10 came today, sent by the same person who sent the first one anonymously from San Andreas. This time they were a little less obscure, but still very coy. There was a piece of paper with the word "PROPS" written on it, quotes and all. It's puzzling and maddening. The only names I can come up with in connection with "props" are all so unlikely as to be ridiculous to even consider. I suppose it will get me no where but I'm going to ask Eugene Woods next time I'm in the bank to look up the purchaser of this second check.

While I was outside this morning, Mr. Long came and talked to me for almost an hour. It is entirely up to the doctors to say whether or not he should hire me. He had talked with my doctors., who told him it would be ten days before they could tell him if I could or could not handle the work. I'm going to talk to the doctor and tell him how much this means to me, and if he'll give his okay it will be the greatest incentive for me to well that there could be. Why do I feel so strongly about this?

October 28, 1957:

I don't really want to write in this, but have been meaning to for several days. Once again, just when the world was beginning to look rosy, it all collapsed around me. A week ago everything seemed so bright and happy. My leg was practically healed up and the doctor said I could start using my crutches. He also said that I could take the job at the telephone company; he would give Mr. Long the green light on it. My new apartment was so darling and the Countess and I had such fun with our "tea party" in the midst of moving-in chaos the night they let me go out with her for a while. She started on a couple of paintings for my walls, and we arranged for Connie to come over on Saturday and help her put things away.

And then it all started to crumble. The only thing I have left is the apartment which I am wondering if I will ever live in. With the crutch-walking came the pain, and with the pain came the fever, and with the fever came more drainage from my leg. I am not working at the Welfare Department any longer, and even if my physical problems clear up, it looks like the telephone company job will not materialize, since Mr. Long is now having trouble with the district office in Sacramento. They are not at all convinced that he needs another girl.

Yesterday the pain was even worse, and I had to take pills all day. Last night I lost my supper, and I have just finished eating some breakfast, which I hope will stay down.

Oh, God, I have tried so hard to ignore the pain this cast is causing me. I have bit my lip and kept on using the crutches even when it really hurt because I knew I had to get up and work and start making a home for us. But I know now that I just can't lug this cast around with me and work...it's too much. (Oh, don't be stupid...it can't be too much, and if it has to be done, I'll do it.

November 8, 1957:

After a very foggy week and a half of pain and fever and pills and hypodermics and x-rays and anesthetics and more pain, I am back among the living again. By that I mean I am back among those who want to live.

A week ago last Tuesday Solly came around and said "C'mon, kiddo, we're going bye-bye." So we got me into his car and went down the hill to the medical center for x-rays. Solly is the nicest guy, who looks as if he has lead a "hell" of a life. I know he spent a number of years in the Navy. He looks and walks like an old salt and has such a friendly grin...the kind of person you at ease with right away. He and Arthur have me the usual line of chatter while Arthur was taking the x-rays...we have a gay time exchanging repartee. The doctor came in during the evening to tell me that the pin in my bone had started to extrude into the muscle, causing the pain.

Casually he said, "We'll have to go in and hammer it back down into place". The crutch-walking was what did it, and he said that I'd have to lay off it for three or four weeks. The next day they took me to the Sanatorium and operated on me again. He hammered the pin back in and got it too far in...it got tangled up in my knee joint and that's where I've had all the pain since the operation.

But now it's better, and one has but to lie back and evaluate the whole messy situation. I must stay in the hospital for another two months, possibly less, and must cast aside all thought of working until I am completely well. My son is at home in our apartment under the care of a housekeeper named Mrs. Cartwright, who has a heart of gold, I am told, but I find it hard to concentrate on her goodness when she is here because she is so incredibly ugly! With this arrangement I am able to draw $145.00 a month from the Welfare Department under the Aid to Needy Children fund. This plus the $50 from Don should enable me to keep the apartment. I have to pay Mrs. Cartwright $70.00 a month for my son's care. Such an impossible spot to be in. But at last I have come to realize that it is time to quit trying to be "conducting business as usual" and playing the good sport who acts as if a broken leg is nothing to tie a person down. I must lie back and relax and get well, regardless of how things go on outside.