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Eve Drewelowe's journals, volumes II-III, 1950s
Page 026
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"pill-taster" and "try-outer" of the Clinic - not a bed capacity really if the reactions weren't so immense. If the new medicines agreed with me, it seemed they were ready for general consumption; if not, then they had to be thrown away or tried on someone else. I however, was the last word, the highest authority. The most important element in my case, however, was never the absence or the presence of order. It was not even essential to treatment. For there was that other thing that I had been struggling with, that other thing so much bigger, so much more involved, so much more complicated and overpowering. That which embraces more minor ailments and drowns them out by sheer torture. What a blessed relief to have had only one small ulcer rather than the gastric-neurosthenia which clamped down and fastened the torture of the demand on me. Not only has it physically rocked my body with pain; but what is worse, has cruelly tormented me mentally with doubt and fear and wondering. When I first went to the Clinic for help, I was all too aware of the fact that I had been skating along and whirling about on a very, very thin shell of ice. The very flimsy, not even I had the slightest suspicion. A mere film - it turned out to be - that would bear no more than feather weight. A caressing breeze passing by and touching ever so faintly the gossamer surface might have shattered the
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"pill-taster" and "try-outer" of the Clinic - not a bed capacity really if the reactions weren't so immense. If the new medicines agreed with me, it seemed they were ready for general consumption; if not, then they had to be thrown away or tried on someone else. I however, was the last word, the highest authority. The most important element in my case, however, was never the absence or the presence of order. It was not even essential to treatment. For there was that other thing that I had been struggling with, that other thing so much bigger, so much more involved, so much more complicated and overpowering. That which embraces more minor ailments and drowns them out by sheer torture. What a blessed relief to have had only one small ulcer rather than the gastric-neurosthenia which clamped down and fastened the torture of the demand on me. Not only has it physically rocked my body with pain; but what is worse, has cruelly tormented me mentally with doubt and fear and wondering. When I first went to the Clinic for help, I was all too aware of the fact that I had been skating along and whirling about on a very, very thin shell of ice. The very flimsy, not even I had the slightest suspicion. A mere film - it turned out to be - that would bear no more than feather weight. A caressing breeze passing by and touching ever so faintly the gossamer surface might have shattered the
Iowa Women’s Lives: Letters and Diaries
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