Father’s treatment of O ‘Neill lasted from mid-May 1951 to the death of the dramatist on November 7, 1953.

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Chapter 1 Exploring Feeling
Sylvia Julia carefully prepared everything. They rented a wheelchair and set up a hospital bed in the second bedroom next to their mother’s bedroom to test their father’s vital signs.
Mother goes to bed much later than father. When she wakes up, her first question is often: Did you wake up the baby? Then she asks: Did you make breakfast for him? Did you cook oatmeal for him?
After his father has breakfast, Sylvia or Julia will take him to the living room. Later in the afternoon, his mother will come to accompany him. They often have lunch in the dining room. After that, his mother returns to the bedroom. His father often sits at his desk before he gets sick.
The table next to the desktop is still piled up with letters from the new medical journal Psychiatric Research Journal, and occasionally there will be a birthday congratulatory letter from the president of Harvard Hospital or an invitation to alumni to attend an upcoming seminar or technical meeting.
Julia told me that he would still get letters from many other people who didn’t know that he was old or sick and were still asking him for his opinion on a technical paper or a research in his field. Julia knew that he had read or interpreted these letters, and she often read them to him. She said that if he held a letter in front of him, he would read it over and over again and point to a place where he still seemed to understand it, and he would nod his head as if he recognized a name or an institution, and perhaps say a short sentence to show that he was satisfied.
He also took some short notes and wrote all kinds of words or phrases with confusing forms and no continuity. He still used fine blue paper to write memos for most of his career. Today, they are still lying in the wooden pallet in the right corner of his old place.
From time to time, my father would rummage through the things in the drawer and suddenly become interested in one of them. One day, he took a piece of heavy metal as a famous brand, which was hung on the front of his office door and engraved with his name. The brand was light green and slightly corroded.
He rubbed it for a long time. Julia said that she kept staring at the card like that, and it was longer than anything else when it was covered with flowers.
Sometimes he will take the file cards and read them one by one, and then he will try to put them back
I don’t think my father is interested in these things, and I don’t think that those random notes he wrote casually represent that he suddenly recovered a long-lost memory. Of course, I don’t believe that he is thinking. This is my office. This is the desk where I used to work, but Julia thinks that he must feel that table. When sitting in front of it, his face always has a proud and trusting look.
Once he took a brown paper envelope full of photos from the drawer, and part of the envelope address was still a mark on the cover of a German letter-Vienna.
Julia showed the photo to my mother, who told her that it was taken on a trip in the 1950s, when they attended a meeting with a group of doctors from Eastern Europe, who managed to get permission to go to Vienna to exchange views with American doctors from Western Europe. Julia told me about the secret meeting held in a room of their hotel, and her mother immediately became active. She said that they met a very clever Hungarian female doctor who planned to flee Budapest and ask my father for help, hoping to get a position in a psychiatric center in new york or Boston.
Julia said that her mother also told her that they went to Vienna by the famous Orient Express, which went from Paris to Istanbul. She said it might also be Constantinople. She said that although they were separated by the car, they met a romantic and funny young couple in the dining car. They didn’t talk until late and met for breakfast the next morning.
Julia left the envelope at her father’s desk, so I saw those photos. Some of them were on the sidewalk of vienna state opera Gate. Apparently, they met the doctors. Then I put the envelope back in the drawer, where my father found it. Julia said that none of them seemed to mean much to my father.
He took something from the table, and it seems that the eroded famous brand in the front office door can make him feel a little surge of emotion.
Julia said that it really means something to him, and it can be seen from the outline of those letters that he traced with his fingers.
Her voice suddenly choked, and I don’t know that situation made me want to cry.
In the first year after his father came home, he often had dinner at the table or desk. Sylvia said that he cooked very much because he always wolfed down his food. She noticed that he was also energetic in other aspects, including his sexual awareness.
When I bathed him, she said that he was always naked and embarrassed, but he would reach out and touch my chest. When I turned to get a towel, he would get up and hug my ass.
Sylvia said that her husband came to visit my father one afternoon and stayed at home for a while. She said that your father was very kind to him. He looked at him and her husband seemed very satisfied with him.
Sir, my father said that I think you are a gentleman.
I don’t know exactly what my father did at that time. Maybe he reached for Lassire’s arm. Maybe he put his arm around her waist. Anyway, Sylvia’s husband tried to make a joke to solve the embarrassment. He pretended to be serious and said, hey, be careful. That’s my wife.
But Sylvia’s words made her father very unhappy.
He is not a gentleman at all, and his father gave him up.
As soon as my husband left the house, your father immediately felt that I belonged to him again, which made him very happy.
Does it really make him happy to go home? Sylvia believes that the answer is obvious. Sylvia once said that he had to stay in the hospital for a few days. After the ambulance staff took him home, took him to the building and put him in bed, my father clapped his hands. At that time, he really clapped his hands. She repeated it.
I asked her if this meant that her father was thanking the man who helped him.
It’s not that she said she wasn’t thanking the worker, but that he clapped his hands for himself, which means it’s like I’m home again. It’s a celebration
Mother is glad that he has come home, but her mind is clear, but her father can’t accompany her or her that kind of conversation. After he goes to bed, Sylvia or Julia will have dinner with her, and will stay up late with her to watch football and watch the news or chat with her until she can’t open her eyes.
Sylvia once told me that your mother closed her eyes and I fell asleep, so she turned to a Spanish-speaking channel. As soon as she sat up, she looked completely awake but seemed very confused. She told me that I couldn’t understand a word they said. It was a very noisy program, and then she looked at the screen carefully and understood everything. She said, I know, I know what I can’t understand, because this is a Spanish channel.
Before falling asleep that night, mother asked Sylvia if she could go in and see how the baby was doing-she occasionally showed her heart to her father, but after a few months, she seemed more gentle and protective.
The disease broke out several times in the nursing home the year after my father came home and before urinary tract infection. In January of that year, it recurred and deteriorated rapidly. Julia tried to contact his doctor but failed, so she called Lucinda and suggested that she immediately called an ambulance to take her father to the hospital.
Julia said that the woman at the registration desk was not very friendly after they arrived at the hospital.
She doesn’t want to treat him or me, but she doesn’t even look at his medical insurance card and medical insurance information. I met this once in that hospital. I don’t know what the problem is and I have to keep begging her.
Why did you bring him here? she asked
Because he was ill, I said
How do you know that he is ill? The woman said that he can’t even speak.
I was so angry that he was right in front of her, and the baby couldn’t talk. I told her, but we all knew when they were in pain
Finally, the woman reluctantly treated her father, and his doctor confirmed Julia’s judgment.
My father stayed in the hospital for three or four days and took care of him after being accused of infection. The doctor told me that according to his experience of similar infection in other places, he suggested that his father should have a urine test every week after hospital. He said that this test should be a long-term routine test from now on, and antibiotics should be given immediately if signs of infection reappear.
Julia left a message to her father’s doctor when she sent him to the hospital, but we don’t know how long it will take her to see the message and come to visit him. Julia said that she thought the doctor should be in town, and she would probably visit him in the hospital.
As soon as my father got home, I sent a letter to the doctor saying that the hospital suggested a weekly urine test. She replied that it was no problem. I told her that Lucinda would be happy to take the sample, and she said that this arrangement was very satisfactory.
However, this action plan is not for her, but for another doctor, which bothers me. I am also confused. Knowing my father’s medical history, she failed to make similar suggestions before the outbreak of infection that led to my father’s hospitalization.
After another year and a half, my father had to be admitted to the hospital again. This time, antibiotics were no longer available to suppress his urinary tract infection, and his personal doctor could not contact her for several days. People in her office said that she was poor.
A resident of Massachusetts General Hospital told me that this infection would cause heart fibrillation. At that time, his term was atrial fibrillation, but he was able to explain it immediately. The doctor said that once my father’s condition stabilized, he had to be confronted with a newer and more powerful antibiotic, which would lead to the recurrence of drug-resistant bacteria.