After breakfast I went over to Peg’s to lie down as Elizabeth was having her bed swung to make table space and dressing corner curtained beneath the bed. My head couldn’t take the hammering. At Peg’s I began to get cold, hands and feet, poor circulation all over. Peg made me an eggnog and she and June managed to find two hot water bags. I drank gallons of water. I did not feel like fainting at all, just stopped as in shock. It was merely very low vitality. Afterward, June said, “Mummie, you look lots better.” I said, “Why, how did I look before?” and she answered like an adult, no longer my little girl, “You were pinched and drawn, lines in your face and head, your eyes looked bad, your mouth pulled and strained.” She saw all that fight for control when balance is slipping and one holds on by a thread. I began to come back just as Jerry came with coffee and an anxious face. Before noon, I came “home” quietly and we reveled in pot roast with gravy on the rice, a flavor to it that we haven’t tasted in months, making me want to weep again. The doctor came and said I must go slow, that I did need meat and a lot else.
The dentist says every doctor in here should be paid for his services after the war. How about waitresses, moppers, dishwashers and ditch cleaners?