The Icelandic Canadian - 01.12.1961, Qupperneq 49

THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
47
I Go To The White Mansion
by fni Elinborg Larusdottir
I shall remember as long as I live
how greatly my landlady, Elin Jons-
dottir, was moved when she learned
that I had tuberculosis and had to go
to the sanatorium.
“Yet another”, she said, and shook
her head sadly, and began to tell me
several stories about people who had
gone there, never to return. The
“White Death” took them in his
clutches and he did not release them
for this world.
“And you—you who are so young
and strong and courageous—how can it
be that you have become tubercular!”
she said, almost scornfully. Judging
by her remarks, it was chiefly the weak-
lings who contracted tuberculosis. I
could not but smile, although laughter
was far from my heart.
“The doctor’s examination has re-
vealed this condition”, I said.
“They can make a mistake”, she said
firmly. “You must not take to your
bed. Confinement to bed is ruinous
for the nervous system. It saps all power
of resistance.”
More to the same effect followed,
but the tears that rolled down her
faded cheeks expressed her sympathy.
Then, by way of comfort for me and
for herself, “You are so strong. I refuse
to believe that you will be prey of the
'White Death’ ”.
This was not a particularly pleasant
topic. In no way apprehensive, I
brought the subject to a close. I did
not believe that I was really ill.
However, I discovered that the other
inmates of the house thought different-
ly. They did not consider themselves
safe in contact with me. I suddenly
became a dangerous person, shunned
by all, except my landlady. That fall,
near the beginning of the term, I had
shared my room with a schoolmate who
had arrived late. She was indisposed
when she came.
Her symptom was a continuosly re-
curring fever, without however, any
sign of a cold, except for a slight swell-
ing of the neck and swollen glands. As
the days passed, her health failed to
improve, and she was frequently con-
fined to her bed.
When she moved in with me I was in
the very best of health, but towards
Christmas I developed a cold and a
cough, which I could not shake. Final-
ly, I consulted a doctor. He was a well
known to my landlady and she had
great faith in him. He examined me
carefully, patted me on the shoulder,
and said, smiling:
“This is nothing but a passing cold.
You are not a candidate for tubercu-
losis”.
Despite this unequivocal verdict, the
cough persisted. I broke out in cold
perspiration at night, and was tired
and weak in the daytime. Thus the
time passed until well into January.
Then I called the doctor, but he had
no time to examine me.
“Althing is in session”, he said, and
I saw that his mind was wholly on ses-
sional matters.
I told my landlady. Much to my
surprise, she broke out angrily, “He
should be ashamed of himself. He must
come. I’ll tell him off; you can be sure
of that!”