
For many days I have tried to write you, but the pressure is so great that I can't
get the moment to sit down, for as yet I am the only nurse, & my duties are
constant, much of the time. If things get worse I shall have to have a man to help me lift
& nurse William. This morning after your card came he asked me to write & tell you how very ill he is.
The attack he had on the 18th was less severe than the one
a year ago on the 16th of Jan. but he is so much worse in
all other ways, &
the lower limbs so useless that all is harder for him. He feels
discouraged for the first time, & says the outlook is very gloomy. His constant
annoyance from the bladder trouble now is worse than all else, & so far the
Doctors have not reached it at all.
If Dr. Bucke
comes in soon can he not, will he not, be able to run over & call on us? I am
sure he could advise me how to nurse & care for William in the best hospital
manner,—as yet he has not at all come to the idea that any one but me is
needed,—& I don't mean to suggest it till I
have come to the point where I must, & can't do for him, but he is very helpless
& very heavy.
I try to keep my courage up, & not to look ahead more than I must.
William sends love, & is always glad to hear. He can read but not write.

At this moment he is dressed & sitting up reading, but feeling very quiet, & very silent.
E. M. O'C.