Ten Days in a Mad-House - Feigning Insanity in Order to Reveal Asylum Horrors by Bly

Author:Bly [Bly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781528719490
Barnesnoble:
Publisher: Read Books
Published: 2021-05-06T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER IX

AN EXPERT(?) AT WORK

“Nellie Brown, the doctor wants you,” said Miss Grupe. I went in and was told to sit down opposite Dr. Kinier at the desk.

“What is your name?” he asked, without looking up.

“Nellie Brown,” I replied, easily.

“Where is your home?” writing what I had said down in a large book.

“In Cuba.”

“Oh!” he ejaculated, with sudden understanding—then, addressing the nurse:

“Did you see anything in the papers about her?”

“Yes,” she replied, “I saw a long account of this girl in the Sun on Sunday.” Then the doctor said:

“Keep her here until I go to the office and see the notice again.”

He left us, and I was relieved of my hat and shawl. On his return, he said he had been unable to find the paper, but he related the story of my debut, as he had read it, to the nurse.

“What’s the color of her eyes?”

Miss Grupe looked, and answered “gray,” although everybody had always said my eyes were brown or hazel.

“What’s your age?” he asked; and as I answered, “Nineteen last May,” he turned to the nurse, and said, “When do you get your next pass?” This I ascertained was a leave of absence, or “a day off.”

“Next Saturday,” she said, with a laugh.

“You will go to town?” and they both laughed as she answered in the affirmative, and he said:

“Measure her.” I was stood under a measure, and it was brought down tightly on my head.

“What is it?” asked the doctor.

“Now you know I can’t tell,” she said.

“Yes, you can; go ahead. What height?”

“I don’t know; there are some figures there, but I can’t tell.”

“Yes, you can. Now look and tell me.”

“I can’t; do it yourself,” and they laughed again as the doctor left his place at the desk and came forward to see for himself.

“Five feet five inches; don’t you see?” he said, taking her hand and touching the figures.

By her voice I knew she did not understand yet, but that was no concern of mine, as the doctor seemed to find a pleasure in aiding her. Then I was put on the scales, and she worked around until she got them to balance.

“How much?” asked the doctor, having resumed his position at the desk.

“I don’t know. You will have to see for yourself,” she replied, calling him by his Christian name, which I have forgotten. He turned and also addressing her by her baptismal name, he said:

“You are getting too fresh!” and they both laughed. I then told the weight—112 pounds—to the nurse, and she in turn told the doctor.

“What time are you going to supper?” he asked, and she told him. He gave the nurse more attention than he did me, and asked her six questions to every one of me. Then he wrote my fate in the book before him. I said, “I am not sick and I do not want to stay here. No one has a right to shut me up in this manner.” He took no notice of my remarks,

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