The Washington times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1902-1939, 1936-07-04
NOW
RebeLLiOus Man
In Hospital
HE STRIKES
BY HELEN ESSARY
Baltimore

BY HELEN ESSARY
Baltimore
A reception room Of the Johns
Hopkins Hospital is no place fol
the planning of a SprightlJ
column.
But. then, life isn't really
sprightly. Columnists and othel
professional entertainers - social
political and dramatic-wear them
selves pale pretending it is. It's 9
sad world, on the whole. It's dedi
Gated to evasionS and make-believe
When you stop pretending you are
lost. You can't be yourself. You
can't admit defeat. Not even IN a
hospital. Not even on your death
bed.
From where sit in the auStere
waiting room lined with black
leather chairs and photographs OF
ruins in Pompeii, Rome and
Athens, can hear the voice OF
the receptionist as she answers
the phone calls OF lnqulrlng
friends and relatives.
"Mrs. Thomson? Yes, she Is
back from the operating room.
She is doing beautifully"
"Mr. Reed? He is resting COM
fortably. No cause for worry"
Miss Lane? What room!
Ward B? She is getting along
nicely. Visiting hours 3 to $3.50.
Everybody's condition is salts
factory. Nobody may worry. This,
at present, is my grievance. NO
body is permitted to break down
or to give up the ghost.
In Brady Four" is a rebelllous
man. He's bored with operations
and treatments. He's gone on a
strike. He's defying the entire
Johns Hopkins Hospital. It's ira
ditions of medical supremacy, its
present efficiency, its nurses, in
ternes, residents, surgeons, con-
sultants, mean nothing to MN.
He won't eat. He won't take
medicine or water. They prick ms
veins, insert tubes, and force glu-
cose into his blood. He mutters
and complains and bucks the world
with his spirit. But his body Is
weak and helpless. Nurses and
orderlies and doctors hurry to and
from his beside. They confer with
his ahguished family.
att battling case" they say.
"Life'S a CHASTITY joke" an
swers the rebel. "I'll have none
of any Of you"
It is this magnificent fellow l
am going to see. A blue-unl-
formed student nurse directs me
down endless brick lines corridors,
past buildings, institutes" they
are called, to the door labeled
"Brady." Beyond a room dedi-
Gated to DR.. Hugh H. Young. who
looks the great physician he Is,
in a portrait over the mantel, l
turn into another corridor.
Immediately on my left Is a
huge canvas of one of the most
famous characters of the Gay
Nineties, Diamond Jim Brady"
"Diamond Jim" in his best and
richest clothes. With a fat white
satin tie done in a four-ln-hand
under his opulent chin. Diamonds
as big as ice cubes stud his vest.
A diamond blazes on his fourth
left finger.
Diamond jim" who lived and
loved and paid the piper. Who
came to the Hopkins when the
happy days were beginning to de-
stroy his big body. Who got well.
And in gratitude left the price Of
one of his gold mines to build
the Brady Institute.
From the windows Of the corrl-
dors-they stretch out like the
spokes of a hoop-I can see on
roofs and sun porches patients
helping themselves back to health
in the sunshine. In wheel chairs,
on beds, tottering with canes, on
the arms of nurses and orderl1eS,
they wait for the healing that
science asks of nature.
On the fourth floor I beg to
see my magnificent rebel. Many
minutes pass. I go silently and
fearfully into the sick room. The
patient is composed but deter
mined. He talks nationally. GO
home now and have a little rest.
I'll be all right, or as right as ]
want to be" he says.
Across the street from the hos
pital in a guest house find big
room with three windows shut
tered, keeping out the sight of the
high-board back fences that are a
part of old Baltimore. Dinner
doesn't seem important. I am
tired and worried. Soon, how
ever, I find myself eating crat
soup, lima beans, fresh and green
thick lamb chops and plump rasp
berries. In spite of my anxiety
I feel better, happier.
Upstairs the colored maid comes
quietly to turn down my bed.
say:
"Tt's good for harassed nerves
here"
"Yes'm, so the ladies think.
D,u4 xv,Eo nS~yn nnf