DIY History | Transcribe | Iowa Women’s Lives: Letters and Diaries | Eve Drewelowe's journals, volumes II-III, 1950s

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Eve Drewelowe's journals, volumes II-III, 1950s

Page 128

decided to take a look at the vacant ones. There, however, was no closet in one. The window of another looked out on a bleak unfriendly brick wall but a few feet away. A third was on the main thoroughfare in the hospital near the corridor intersection overlooking the street. "Is there no other choice?" i asked dejectedly of the boy. The boy - coincidentally- was now other than he who had not helped me out with my belongings, that fateful Saturday afternoon a year before. Then some days later he really had transported my things. "you have just as hard a time getting in here as you did getting out" he observed humorously as we went back to the registration desk for another idea.
Meanwhile the black-man had gone out for supper. The child behind the desk left in charge during her absence knew little enough about rooms. So Eve van Ek stretched out as comfortably as possible to rest on the hard, wooden bench to await the return of the registration clerk. A kind black-habited nun came solicitously by, "Are you ill?" she wanted to know.
"No, thank you! I am fine - just waiting for a room."
The only other available single was not especially to my liking but the very best I could do at the time, so there was nothing else to do, but to move in. I was checked in; my thermos was filled with half and half and I was tucked into bed with much giggling. I was so completely tried I was delirious. The nurse did a lot of littering over my disregard and lack of  a conventional wardrobe while she was making out the garment list. However I did have sketch books, a sketch portfolio, my manuscript, a radio, and my thermos, my faithful follower - my where-ever-I-may-be-dictionary. All of Dr Horton's patients except myself, stayed on the outside and came to St Mary's twice a day for their histamine injections. I however being hospitalized, got up out of my bed after the first two days and got up out of my bed and went up to the laboratory - always in my pajamas and robe.

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decided to take a look at the vacant ones. There, however, was no closet in one. The window of another looked out on a bleak unfriendly brick wall but a few feet away. A third was on the main thoroughfare in the hospital near the corridor intersection overlooking the street. "Is there no other choice?" i asked dejectedly of the boy. The boy - coincidentally- was now other than he who had not helped me out with my belongings, that fateful Saturday afternoon a year before. Then some days later he really had transported my things. "you have just as hard a time getting in here as you did getting out" he observed humorously as we went back to the registration desk for another idea. Meanwhile the black-man had gone out for supper. The child behind the desk left in charge during her absence knew little enough about rooms. So Eve van Ek stretched out as comfortably as possible to rest on the hard, wooden bench to await the return of the registration clerk. A kind black-habited nun came solicitously by, "Are you ill?" she wanted to know. "No, thank you! I am fine - just waiting for a room." The only other available single was not especially to my liking but the very best I could do at the time, so there was nothing else to do, but to move in. I was checked in; my thermos was filled with half and half and I was tucked into bed with much giggling. I was so completely tried I was delirious. The nurse did a lot of littering over my disregard and lack of a conventional wardrobe while she was making out the garment list. However I did have sketch books, a sketch portfolio, my manuscript, a radio, and my thermos, my faithful follower - my where-ever-I-may-be-dictionary. All of Dr Horton's patients except myself, stayed on the outside and came to St Mary's twice a day for their histamine injections. I however being hospitalized, got up out of my bed after the first two days and got up out of my bed and went up to the laboratory - always in my pajamas and robe.