It is three and a half years since health, strength, courage, and ambition thoroughly failed.
I early became interested in study, and "big ambition" in a "little body" led me to finish my studies. I then taught school. In the spring, during my second rear's teaching I had nervous prostration and utter exhaustion, many weeks remaining seriously ill. During the summer I was better but very weak and unable to be up, only sitting up when I ate, all this time taking soothing, nerve-quieting, and strengthening medicines. Toward autumn I could sit up in a chair for a few hours, and walk out in the sun and air. I always feared experimental effects of drugs. Had followed hygienic rules of health, which had variously multiplied my fears of disease and ills.
I did so wish to get well again, and I did not think it could come through medicine. Was there not some way, or was it not to be? As winter drew nigh I grew worse; deep-rooted fears of illness increased, and many thought I had consumption. For many long months sad discouraged, despairing, I grew weaker and weaker, and most of the time my whole body was in pain. I took medicinal powders every night to sleep. I could not speak above a whisper or hear any one talk excepting in a whisper. My only relief and desire was to be constantly and perfectly quiet. Owing to my extreme sensitiveness to excitement or noise, outside aid could not be accepted. Think of our sad home. For many months my parents, brother, and sister, in turn watched at my bedside—all day and night: and the little food I ate was fed to me with a spoon. Callers could not be admitted, our only visitor being the doctor, who came frequently. I would think again and again, Ts there not some way? then lingering hope would grow to despair; I had earnestly prayed for help, strength and patience.
