Thursday, November 4, 1937
Being in the hospital for so long, you lose track of the outside world. It is its own little world in here. We get up at 6:30, have our breakfast at 7:00, wash and tidy ourselves and our beds (if we’re able — I can make mine from my wheelchair). The doctors come by at 8:00 a.m. and then Lillian and student nurses give us our leg rubs at 8:30 and we practise afterwards with our braces until 12:00, when we get our lunch. After lunch Thelma and Edna have to do school work, but because Julie and I are going home soon, we don’t have to do school work, so we quietly read or nap. I also practise more with my braces and crutches, walking up and down the hall. At 5:00 we get supper, and lights go out at 8:30. Every day it is the same routine. When I get a letter from home it’s hard to believe I used to be part of that world out there. When Edmund talks about school, I have difficulty picturing classrooms and teachers and students. Or when Dad writes that the Saskatoon Quakers are going to have a good hockey season, it doesn’t seem to mean anything to me. It seems to be in that other world “out there.”
I talked about this to the girls and Edna said we’re “insulated” from the world in here. I thought she meant isolated, but she said, no, she meant insulated. It has no impact on us. I like when we have discussions like this because it means I’m not the only one who feels this way.
Julie is packing up to leave tomorrow. I have to go and finish reading Heidi tonight. There are only four pages left.
Here’s a secret: I am scared to go back into the world out there.
Friday, November 5, 1937
Julie went home today. Her father borrowed a car and he and Julie’s mother drove down yesterday and spent the night in Regina. Julie told us the government paid for their hotel room for one night. Edna says a hotel room costs $1.50 a night. I’m glad the government is paying for it, as it would be hard for Mother to find the money to stay. It was very sad to see Julie leave. We all hugged her and cried a bit. I had to practise walking up and down the halls by myself, which made me very sad.
Thelma painted Julie a beautiful picture of a tree in the winter, bare branches throwing a dark shadow against the white snow. (I forgot to say that Nurse Stanfield purchased some watercolours for Thelma.) Thelma paints every day now. Julie rolled her picture up carefully and tied it with a string and told Thelma she would treasure it always. Then Edna said that when Thelma becomes a famous artist, Julie could sell the painting for scads of money. Julie very seriously told Edna she would never sell Thelma’s painting no matter what someone paid for it! Julie said she’d keep it forever to remind her of Thelma and Edna and me. We gave each other our addresses, though Thelma said Julie would have to write to her care of the hospital. Julie’s mother is not the least bit timid like Julie is, but I think Julie takes after her father, as he is a small man, very quiet, and did everything Julie’s mother told him to, like carrying Julie’s suitcase to the car. Julie’s mother was shown how to stretch Julie’s legs and then they left right after lunch.
We’re all very quiet this afternoon. Edna says she’s too tired to talk and has her eyes closed, but I don’t think she is napping because I just saw a tear run down her cheek. I better stop writing and go and talk to her.
Friday, November 5, 1937, evening
It’s almost time for the lights to go out. When I stopped writing in my diary this afternoon, I got my crutches and walked over to Edna. Unfortunately, I walked a little too fast and was almost running by the time I crashed into her bed and I fell right on top of her. That got all three of us laughing so much the nurse came rushing in to see what had happened. Then Edna said that she had been crying because she’d been feeling sorry for herself, that she was never going to be able to leave the hospital. Both Thelma and I told her she was getting better every day and then Thelma said she didn’t think she could stand it if Edna left right away, too, as she didn’t want to go to all the trouble of getting to know three new girls again! Thelma said we three girls were the closest she had ever been to other people.
I lay down beside Edna for a while and told her all about the dark-haired dreamboat she was going to meet and all the kids that she was going to have and then I teased her that her husband was going to smooch her all day long. I puckered my lips and pretended to smooch her and she began to push me out of her bed.
Oh, and we got a new doctor today to take Dr. Lear’s place. I don’t think he’s that old, but he’s bald on top, has a bit of a round stomach like Grandpa does, and has really bad breath. We call him the bad breath doctor. You’d think a doctor would know what medicine would take care of that.
Saturday, November 6, 1937
Lillian told me I had to stay in bed for the next two days to rest up for my going home on Monday. I’m almost afraid to write that in case I jinx myself and something happens so I can’t go home. Mother will arrive Sunday night and stay in a hotel (though she said she’d pop in to see me if it wasn’t too late), then she’ll come back Monday and learn how to take care of me and my braces and crutches. I did get up once today, but I used my wheelchair, and I went to say goodbye to Eugene. I felt really bad seeing him still in the iron lung, but he said he was staying out of it longer every day. I told him I’d write to him. I’m going to be writing a lot of letters!
I asked the new doctor when I could go back to school and he said he’d see how I’m doing at Christmas when I come back for my checkup, but thought maybe it would be spring before I could return to school.
I tried to pretend to myself that I was disappointed, but the truth is, I’m relieved. I’m scared to go back to school. What if the kids laugh at me? And what if someone knocks me down the stairs by accident? I’m so slow on stairs! And what if I’m held back one year and all my friends aren’t in my class. Mostly, what if no one will be friends with me because I’m crippled? What if they laugh at me on my crutches?
Grandpa says to write your fears down, as it helps to make them more manageable, but I just read them over and instead of feeling better, I feel worse. Maybe Grandpa could just keep teaching me until I’m grown-up. I don’t think Mother will let me stay home forever, though.
The doctor said I was to keep practising walking, eating well, and building my strength up at home. I am to come back to the Regina Hospital in about a month for a checkup. I am very excited to go home. I doubt I’ll be able to sleep tonight. We had some snow today. I hope Mother brings my heavy coat.
Sunday, November 7, 1937
Mother arrived this afternoon. She looked very happy and said it was like having a little holiday to have a room of her own in a hotel. She could never have come to stay overnight if the government wasn’t paying for the room. She says it’s just a modest place, but it is very clean and that’s what counts. She remembered to bring my winter coat. I can’t believe it is winter already. When I first got sick it was the middle of July and it was so hot. Then when I came here it was fall and I just needed a sweater. Now it is winter. I wonder what season it will be when Edna and Thelma leave.
Mother stayed until suppertime and was about to leave when Nurse Stanfield told her to stay on and had a student nurse bring in an extra supper tray, so Mother and Edna and Thelma and I all had supper together. We told Mother all about the bad breath doctor and how I had fallen right into Edna’s bed, so it was a cheerful supper and we all laughed a lot. Edna said this was our “last supper.”
And then Edna asked me if I had written to Henry yet, RIGHT IN FRONT OF MOTHER! Mother raised her eyebrows at me. I told Edna I’d not written to MY PENPAL yet, and wouldn’t until I got home, when I would write to everyone, NOT JUST HENRY. I can’t believe Edna did that, but she and Thelma thought it was very funny.
Then Thelma gave me a length of lace she had tatted and said it was for a pillowcase for my trousseau. It is really beautiful. I hugged her really hard and she didn’t even seem to mind that it was sort of mushy. Then Edna pulled out her tatting and showed me how it was all knotted and said she doubted she had the skill to do it, but I could
have the knots if I wanted. I said she could keep them. Then Edna gave me a real present. A book, Anne of Green Gables. She said she had her mother and father smuggle it in to her when I wasn’t around. Inside she had put her home address and made me promise to write or she’d come and find me in Saskatoon and demand to know why I had forgotten her. I told her and Thelma that I would never forget them ever. Thelma told me to stop being so mushy, it wasn’t like any of us were dying or anything.
I have to stop writing because I can’t see because I’m crying.
Monday, November 8, 1937, on the train
It is afternoon and I’m just going to write a few words because I want to look out the window. It is snowing just a little bit and it looks very pretty. You’d never know that beneath the snow there is nothing but dry soil that can’t hold any crops. But I wanted to write that I WALKED onto the train. Yes, I WALKED right up the steps onto the train with my crutches and braces and when the conductor asked if I wanted him to help me down the aisle, I very politely said, no, I was perfectly fine. (I really wasn’t because just getting up the stairs wore me out, but Mother put her hand under my arm and helped me walk between the seats.) Then Mother settled me down into the seat (I don’t have to be wedged in anymore as I have my balance now) and said how proud she was of me and that I was so grown-up now she hardly knew who I was. I didn’t tell her that my legs were shaking and my heart was pounding by the time we sat down. But no one on the train said “that poor girl.”
I’m going to have a nap now.
Tuesday, November 9, 1937, evening
I spent the day sleeping. I let Dad carry me off the train, as I was too tired to walk, and he put me into Grandpa’s car. Mother said I went to sleep right after I wrote in my diary on the train, with my head in her lap. I’m still tired, but I guess that is to be expected after all the excitement yesterday. I did walk up the stairs and into the house, though. Before I did, I bent down and picked up a little bit of snow and made a snowball and, leaning on my crutches, I threw it at Edmund, who was standing on the steps. He threw one back at me. It felt really good doing that.
Wednesday, November 10, 1937, morning
I forgot to say about my surprise, which is surprising, because my surprise was right at the front door! Dad, Uncle Tom, Grandpa and James had enclosed the front sun porch and made it into a bedroom for me. And one reason they made it into a bedroom is because Grandpa is moving in with us at the end of the month! He is giving up his own house and moving into my old bedroom. He said it’s lonely rattling around in the place and he is renting it to a family. The money they pay will let him keep his car running.
Here is a secret: I think he’s staying with us to help Mother with my care. Dad is also putting in a small bathroom off the kitchen for me. It will only have a toilet and a sink, but it will save me going up and down the stairs except for baths. I’ll use a chamber pot until it is finished or someone can carry me upstairs. Mother says she does not want me going upstairs on my own because the stairs are too steep.
Mother and Aunt Ella sewed really pretty curtains to cover all the windows, and my bed and dresser were moved down and the couch moved out into the dining room. Mother keeps the door open so I can get heat from the house, and if it is too cold, I’ll sleep in the dining room like I did before. Edmund and James come in the back kitchen door now, rather than go through my bedroom, though the minister and other people who visit will probably have to come through my bedroom to get into the living room. Mother was very excited about my new room, and I know it will be easier for me.
It will also be easier for Mother to take care of me, but the truth is, I really miss my old room. It’s scary to see all these changes. I feel like the world is spinning too fast and I might fall off.
Aunt Ella gave me a lovely new doll for a welcome home gift, and it is very beautiful, but I want my old dolls, though I know Mother had to burn them to keep my germs from spreading. I feel bad that I don’t like my new room so much, especially after all the work everyone went to. I’m sort of scared to be home and not at the hospital. If I fell or needed something, there was always a nurse who could help sort me out. I know Mother and the rest want to help, but they don’t know the way the hospital does it. Maybe I’m just too tired and scared to like my room.
Thursday, November 11, 1937
It is Remembrance Day. Grandpa went to a special service at the church. At supper Edmund said he told his class about Dad’s fingers being shot off in the war. He said he wished he could have brought Dad’s hand in for show and tell. Dad said, “Only my hand? What about the rest of me?”
Friday, November 12, 1937, afternoon
Mother and Grandpa decided to do my home exercises today. First Mother massaged my legs, and then Grandpa and I went outside to practise walking. Mother was worried that there would be ice on the sidewalk, but the sun was shining brightly and the ice had melted into puddles. Then Mother worried that I would take a chill, so she wrapped me up in my winter coat, two scarves, mittens and a wool hat. I could barely move! Grandpa said it was important that I keep up my exercise and not let it go just because I’m not in the hospital.
This is the first time (other than getting onto the train) that I’ve walked outside. I was very nervous and didn’t really want to go at first, and in fact, I actually had a little cry about it, but Grandpa said he had every faith in me and he would be right there if I needed help. So I carefully went down the front stairs (which now run right off my bedroom!) and we walked half a block. It felt nice to be outside. I’ve lived inside now for months and I think I’d forgotten how the wind feels on my face. It was nice to smell something other than hospital stinks and cooking inside our house! I only had trouble once where the sidewalk was uneven, and I stumbled a bit, but Grandpa grabbed me, and other than that it went fine. Now I need a nap.
P.S. I asked Grandpa if he was moving in with us because he was poor now. He said I was old enough now to know that everyone was having financial troubles and his move would help ease them for both Mother and Dad and himself and that we were all going to be just fine together. It made me feel very grown-up that he told me the truth. Then he also said that his house was too big for one person and he could help me with my exercises and school lessons, but mostly he just wanted to be with his family.
Monday, November 15, 1937
Starting today, I have a new routine. I eat breakfast with Edmund and James and when they go to school Mother and I tidy ourselves up and then we do my massage and leg exercises. At ten o’clock Grandpa and I do schoolwork, until lunch. After lunch I have a nap, and then Grandpa and I are going to go walking every day that we can, and on days when the weather is bad, Grandpa said he’d see if we could use the church basement (where we have Sunday School) and I can walk there. After supper I do my homework with Edmund. I like having a routine, as it makes me feel that I am getting better and I’m not a sick person anymore.
Tuesday, November 16, 1937
I’m working like mad on my tatting to make gifts for Mother, Aunt Ella and Jean for Christmas. I finished Grandpa’s bookmark and Mother starched it and gave me a lovely red ribbon to weave through it. It looks beautiful. No time to write any more.
Friday, November 19, 1937
There was a bit of snow in the air today, but mostly it was just grey outside, so Grandpa and I went for a walk. Grandpa said he can see me getting stronger every day. We went two blocks today. Sometimes I think I could go farther, but then I remember I have to also walk back.
I told Grandpa that I was scared to go to school, as I thought the kids would laugh at the way I walk. He said it was perfectly understandable to be scared and that most people are scared of the unknown, but that sometimes fear motivates people to do things they didn’t think they could do and that we are all a lot stronger inside than we think.
I couldn’t seem to sleep during my naptime so I was thinking again about Amelia Earhart and I bet she was really scared before she went flying off into the blue. But she
also got to see places that most people never see, and she also got to fly, which I imagine made her wildly happy.
As Grandpa says, life is a funny thing. If I hadn’t gotten sick I wouldn’t have met Ann, Edna, Thelma, Julie, Eugene and Henry, and they are all my friends now. I wouldn’t have met Dr. Lear or Nurse Betty or Lillian. And if I hadn’t gotten sick, maybe I would still be mean to Ann, instead of being her friend. I’m still scared of lots of things, but I don’t think I’m as scared as before, because I know there are a lot of people who want to help me out.
Saturday, November 20, 1937
Ann came over this morning to see me. She gave me a big hug and thanked me for my letter. She said that was all water running over the bridge now. (I think she meant under but I didn’t want to correct her. I knew what she meant.) And she said that what was important was our being friends now. Ann is quite the loveliest person.
I showed Ann my tatting and told her how I had shown all the girls at the hospital how to do it, and also how Lillian, the physical therapist, was going to use tatting as an occupational exercise. Ann was very pleased. She looked quite nice, not so tired. She said her father and older brother had found work helping to build a road in northern Saskatchewan. It means they are away for two weeks at a time, but her mother and her and Yanni and their new baby sister are getting along fine, and with her father and brother working there’s enough money for food. Then she smiled and said that it was also easier to keep house without all the men around! I told her I knew exactly what she meant, because Mother is always saying Edmund and James and Dad mess up the house as soon as she’s cleaned it.
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