Afterwards, all my delusions centred on food.
I was very much neglected at the hospital. The attendance was wretched.
The highly respected German doctor, who was appointed to the place, had
himself an immense practice, and moreover was absolutely taken up by the
Franco-Prussian war. Consequently, he hardly ever came, sometimes stayed
away as long as thirteen days at a stretch, during all which time a
patient who might happen to be suffering, say, from constipation, must
lie there without any means of relief. My bed was as hard as a stone,
and I was waked in the night by pains in my body and limbs; the pillow
was so hard that the skin of my right ear was rubbed off from the
pressure. There were no nurses. There was only one custodian for the
whole hospital, a Russian fellow who spoke German, and who sometimes had
as many as fourteen patients at a time to look after, but frequently
went out to buy stores, or visit his sweetheart, and then all the
patients could ring at once without any one coming. After I had passed
the crisis of my illness, and consequently began to suffer terribly from
hunger, I was ordered an egg for my breakfast; I sometimes had to lie
for an hour and a half, pining for this egg. Once, for three days in
succession, there were no fresh eggs to be had.
Pages:
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510