The Choir He Wanted, The LIfe He Had

Friday, September 8, 1934

When I woke up it was early in the morning and the entire house was dark. The minute my eyes opened, I immediately began to feel ill, and when the growling came to my stomach I jumped out of bed and ran for the bathroom as fast as I could.

I could barely see where I was going and I nearly fell down the stairs. When I reached the bottom, I began to feel more nauseated than I already had. I raced down the hallway to the bathroom, but I only got halfway there when I suddenly felt the urge to retch. I stopped cold as something shot out both ends of me. The bile tasted terrible in my mouth, but it couldn't have smelled half as bad as what came out my other end. My clothes were soiled so badly that I could not move, and so I was frozen where I stood.

I cried for my mother, but it was almost ten minutes later that I heard her behind me.

"Jack!" she yelled. I started sobbing, and my mother rushed to my side.

"Mummeeeeee!" I sobbed. My mother placed a hand on my forehead, then rushed away. I heard her yell for my father, then she came back to me.

"Mummy, my pants!" I cried. My mother looked me over, then ran away from me again. I continued sobbing, and while my mother was gone, nausea again washed over me. I looked down and began coughing. After multiple coughs, I vomited over the tops of my bare feet, adding to the disgust that I already felt. When my mother came back a few minutes later, she was holding a change of clothes, and my father was following behind her with a small washbasin.

My mother came up behind me and placed her hands under my arms. She lifted me up and, holding me away from her, carried me into the bathroom. She stood to the side as my father came into the room and set the basin in the corner of the bathroom. I felt nauseated again, and I told my mother that I was going to throw up. My mother quickly moved to the sink, and as she held me over it I threw up once, then twice.

"Do you need water in it?" my father asked. My mother looked at him and said,

"If you could I would love that."

My father left the room and my mother carried me to the basin. She set me inside it and began to undress me. I felt awful. I just wanted to lay down and fall asleep, but I knew that I wouldn't be able to.

"Mummy, I don't feel good," I said.

"I know," my mother replied. I once again felt like throwing up, but I was somehow able to choke it back. As my mother finished undressing me, my father came back into the room carrying a pail full of water. Even though the house had enough running water for one toilet and sink, it did not have a tub to wash in. Why this was so, I never knew; my parents never told me and I never asked.

"Do you need any help?" my father asked. My mother shook her head.

"I'll be alright," she replied. "Are you going to work today?"

"I don't think that would be wise," my father replied. "I've already been exposed to whatever he has. I wouldn't want to take chances."

My mother nodded. She understood what he meant. My father was a doctor. It wouldn't have been a smart idea for him to go to work after being exposed to an illness.

My father set down the pail he was carrying, and he was about to leave when my mother called his name. He turned around and asked her if she needed anything.

"Could you please get a diaper for Jack?" she asked. My ears perked up and I looked up at my mother. Did I just hear her ask my father to get me a diaper?

My father nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him. When my mother turned back to me, I was still staring at her, probably with a shocked look on my face.