My Grandfather, Andrew Jackson Paul, was born in 1882 and died in 1947. He was hospitalized in St. Paul, Minnesota for what has been described as a "heart condition" and after a time died from that condition.
Andrew had been an active, hard-working man, spending the better part of his life as a Railroad Depot Agent. Being forced to spend his last days confined to a hospital bed must have annoyed him considerably. I find it incredible that he was able to keep his sense of humor going during that time.
The following is a poem he wrote while in the hospital. It is both complaining which he had every reason to do, as well as amusing. The fighting mentioned was about WWII.
I wish I had known him.
A Day in the Hospital
Doctor, doctor, here am I
Full of aches and pains that cry.
Surgeons Order N.P.B.A.
Local doctor John McKay.
Punch my side and count my pulse
Take my tempo and nothing else.
Room three and 12, bed number one,
Third floor east and the fun's begun.
Five o'clock and a grim faced man,
Slops the water in an ice-cold can.
Shakes the bed and stubs his toe,
Slams the door and makes me sore.
Gentle nurse with cloth and dish
Wash my face and make a wish.
"Soon this sap will be much stronger,
Then I'll have this job no longer."
Six o'clock and all is well
Morning papers with news from hell,
So many Germans and so many Nips
Bite the dust and cease their kicks.
Sorrowing homes and solemn faces
Speak of death and vacant places.
Can the price more precious be
To set a world of mankind free.
Seven AM and here's your tray,
Breakfast served in bed today.
No coffee, no tea and no salt for me,
Light diets are easy for cooks it must be.
Eight o'clock with morning bath;
Roll to this side then to that,
Right foot up and left foot down,
"Turn on the light when you are done."
Turn the mattress and change the sheet,
Toss the pillows and let me sleep.
Weary hours make up the day,
This old bed is my only stay.
Pills and hypos pass the time
Til the clock says "It is nine."
White coats come with solemn tread,
Gaze upon this cuss in bed.
"How are you today" they ask.
Shake your head and say "Alas"
"Good," "Better," "Worse," "Yes," or "No."
It matters not -- on they go.
By many pills and physic fed,
Better than soap and water in bed.
Rest and sleep without a worry
Only to wake and jump in a hurry.
"Orderly Ernest bring the pan,
Shut the door and start the fan."
Poisonous gasses fill the room,
Makes me faint, makes me swoon.
Here's my doctor; he is late,
In a hurry cannot wait.
"How's your ticker, let me see,
Out of here you soon will be."
Eleven o'clock brings Barber Joe,
"Shave Mister, shave Mister, shave Mister so?
Four bits a whisker and may Hitler blister."
And this is the Jew for you.
Twelve o'clock comes none too soon,
Dinner for the common Bob, lunch for the snob,
Looks much the same when served by a dame
On a tin platter with great noise and clatter.
Silently sole many sadly they wend,
To the door that is marked for MEN.
One shower and three toilets in a row,
The one in the corner is for me I know.
Caution, caution, watch your step.
Don't you know you've lost your pep?
Bath tub may your coffin be
If you slip on soap or knee.
One and couples triple fours,
Come the callers at each door.
"Hi there Johnnie, Hello Jack."
Shake the arm and slap the back.
"Some wise guy you I'll say,
Spending winter in the hay.
What's the trouble with you all?
Haven't seen you since last fall."
Three o'clock and evening papers,
White House scandals and Eleanor's capers.
W.P.B. and O.P.A.
Busy boys indeed are they.
I hear the "grub wagon" down the hall.
Five o'clock and supper for all.
Scraps from the kitchen arranged with tact,
Just to see my stomach react.
Good night nurse and watch with care,
Stoop and hear my evening prayer.
If I am wakeful in the night
Use the hypo, that is right.
Day is done and I'm all in,
My old carcass not worth a pin.
Give me an easier job I pray,
Chopping wood or making hay.
--N.P.B.A. Hospital, Jan. 1945
Andrew J. Paul
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