November 27th, 1981

The orderly has just made my best with fresh linen for the night; I am sitting cross legged in my bed— hospital gown draped about me. This is my fourth day at St. Vincent’s— and it looks as though I won’t be going anywhere for a few days. I was hospitalized Monday evening amid great alarm. The pain in my hip was still severe— and the doctor feared that it might be septic arthritis— a gonococcal form of arthritis that can destroy joints in a matter of hours— and can lead to death in a matter of days. That night, fluid was extracted from my hip joint— and a dye injected for fluoroscope examination. I was then put on intravenous antibiotics and told to expect surgery to drain and irrigate the hip the next morning. Culture results the next morning did not indicate serious infection— so surgery was stalled— and the antibiotics continued. So I have been in bed with antibiotics dripping into my veins for four days. By now, the pain in my lip has all but disappeared. My doctor is going to do a body scan— probably on Monday. The completed procedure lasts about three days— so I don’t expect to be home until Wednesday at the earliest. I am in no hurry. God has pulled the plug on a frenzied daily life that was veering more and more out of control. Now I will lie back in a comfortable hospital bed and feel safe and protected and loved and wait for further information from my higher power.