Western Kansas world. [volume] (WaKeeney, Kan.) 1885-current, 1888-09-08
On the Sick LIST.


self-helpful person than to be laid on
the shelf-sick! To lie like baby and
be fed; to have your face and hands
washed, and your hair combed for you
to be read to, instead of reading to your
self; for, after all, how is any one to
guess that which you like best in your
morning paper to hear? To have some
body else over-water your pretty
plants, or forget to water them al
together; to have a tormenting sum
beam fit your eye, and not to be able,
with all your telling and your little
breath, to get it rectified from your
point of view. To have shoals of let
tiers which you cannot read, much less
answer. To be faint, and yet not be
able to eat anything. To be unable to
walk, and yet hate to be bundled up so
to ride. To want seas of ice and gales
of cool air, and have heat and warm
food and drugs instead; to have mis-
cradle little pup in a yard near yelping
at the moon all night, or else piano
being murdered into the small hours
or to have wretched BOOSTERS Growing,
or geese cackling, at daylight, close by,
in some four-inch yard, where they are
expected to do farm duty, to save few
cents on eggs and things; to have
every little junk-dealer who goes by rat
tie six or eight huge cowbells, which
are attached by a string to his miser-
able handcart, in order to let the world
know he is in need of rags" to have
vigorous-lunged milkmen whooping
like tribe of Indians at scalping time ;
to have the new pavement before your
door that is to "save so much noise"
used as underground for the heavi-
est carts in the city, with accompany
ing oaths and vociferations, and LASH
ings from excited drivers, and screams
from small boys in imminent danger of
broken necks.
And then, after that, to have your
kind friends wonder reproachfully that
you "don't get any strength" with all
their cosseting!
OF course, when you disappear under
the sheets after that, it isn't to sleep.
Sleep! I guess so! Sleep! when you
feel as guilty as if you could help being
nervous and weak and limp and cry
baby-ish?
Now I hate to be waited on. It hurts
my independence. I hate to lie in bed.
I hate the sun to go down either con
my wrath" or on my mirth. I hate
owls, and bats, and darkness. I like
sunlight and tornadoes of fresh air. I
hate cruel and messes and drugs, and
hot pillows. I like ale, and long
walk, and light, easy clothing, and bit
of chicken at the right minute, to be
taken out of my sight when I've had
enough, and never again alluded to.
I Like my doctor. He's my only al
deviation. If whisper champagne"
he orders it. For pills he gives me
grapes. If he gives me "bitters," he
always stakes the taste out of my
mouth" afterward. He says if I am
contradicted and thwarted shant get
well. That's proof enough of his intel
igence. If an invitation is handed me
which would like to accept, he always
says "you will be quite well enough to
60 when the time comes" and then i'm
mediately I don't want to!
What's the use of trying to be a doc
tor if you don't understand women?
Where would doctors be without wom-
en-? For when men are sick, don't they
blow out their brains if they don't get
well in two hours ?-Fd7a7ay Fern.