The Quintland Sisters(78)
Oh, for heaven’s sake, I sound like a silly schoolgirl. This isn’t me. Truly.
Is it?
November 1, 1938
A LETTER FROM Lewis, asking me the most extraordinary thing, I don’t quite know what to make of it, or what I should say in return. I can’t possibly have mentioned George in every letter. Why on earth would I do that?
God, I miss Ivy. She would know exactly how to respond.
Meanwhile, all the girls can talk about is meeting the princesses. Of England, they mean. There’s been so much talk about the King and Queen and whether they might come and visit us at Quintland. The girls have dug all of their prettiest dress-up clothes out of their trunks, even the gowns they can barely squeeze themselves into, and are playing “Princess” every day. We’ve tried to explain to them that the princesses won’t be coming on the royal tour next year, but for whatever reason, they are adamant that it will be children who visit them, not the King and Queen. They are tired of grown-ups, Annette informed me. What does that tell us, I wonder. I don’t want to think about it.
We’re having a terrific storm today: driving rain and a howling wind lashing the nursery. Apart from Cécile, who is hooting with excitement and pressing her nose to the windows, exhilarated, the girls are a bit frightened by it and extra cuddly as a result.
November 9, 1938 (Toronto Star)
* * *
QUINTS IN “FINE SHAPE” AFTER OPERATION
Marie Leads Parade as All 5 Lose Tonsils On Dining Room Table First Carried in at 9:10 and Last Carried Out at 12:15 O’clock NO TRANSFUSIONS: None of Sisters Worried
The world’s best-loved quintet is still intact.
Marie, Annette, émilie, Cécile, and Yvonne—in that order—came safely today through the ordeal of having their tonsils and adenoids removed. The surgeries were performed onsite at the Dafoe Hospital and Nursery.
Early this afternoon the Dionne girls were all reported “in fine condition.”
Marie’s was the hardest operation of the five. The actual operating time was 13 minutes. Annette came next with actual operation time, 9 minutes. Then came émilie, and it took 10 minutes of actual operating.
Both Yvonne and Cécile, who followed in turn, had their tonsils removed in 8 and a half minutes each.
The most precious fluid in the world—human blood—was brought here in shiny cans today against the possible need of a transfusion for one or all of the Dionne quintuplets.
The blood for transfusion, if needed, came from professional donors in Toronto in much the same way as the mother’s milk was brought from Chicago and Toronto during the first few days of the Quints’ existence four years ago last May.
At the same time, two human donors stood ready to supply germ-free blood of the same type from their own veins if surgeons felt a direct transfusion to be more desirable. These human donors are both parents, Oliva, the father, and Elzire, the mother.
Used with permission.
November 11, 1938
The girls are already up and about and eating coddled eggs and soft cereals with no trouble whatsoever. Last night they got vanilla ice cream, which they lapped up like kittens. Cécile wanted to know when they could get more tonsils taken out, so they can have more ice cream. I was foolish to worry so much, I suppose, but talking myself out of worrying has never been an option.
November 16, 1938
I AM TWENTY-TWO years old today. Old enough to know what I want, presumably.
November 20, 1938
Miss Emma Trimpany Dafoe Hospital and Nursery Callander, ON
My dear Emma,
How are you? How goes your painting and drawing? Any gems you’d care to share? How are the little angels? I can tell you, all of New York was riveted by the news of their tonsil operation—I’m very glad that went well.
I’m enclosing a pamphlet that I hope you’ll take a look at. As you know, I think, I am one of the adjunct teachers at the Art Students League of New York. The school has finally launched the international scholarship program several of us have been pushing for. There are five positions earmarked for Canadian applicants, and I think you have an excellent chance of being accepted. I’m happy to provide any feedback or suggestions you would need for your portfolio, and there are some specific requirements for subject, medium, and techniques that might take some time to put together. Your application would need to be in by the end of May next year in order to be considered for entrance that year. I hope you’ll seriously consider it. If you’d prefer to discuss this by telephone, I’d be happy to arrange a time to call you at the nursery.
I have little in the way of news—I’m teaching a fair bit, and this has pushed my own work to the side for now, which I admit is getting me down. There is so much to drag one down, I find. An old friend of mine was killed in the New England hurricane you likely heard about, in September, and it’s left me feeling very low. Plus the events in Europe make it difficult to feel like painting, don’t you find? A great number of people in the art world here in New York are Jewish, and we are all watching Mr. Hitler with our hearts in our throats. He’s mad, I believe, yet no one seems willing to stop him.
I don’t mean to end on a sour note. Please, my dear Emma, have a look at the enclosed and tell me if you’d consider it.