The tale of my recovery

January the 9th, 1912

All of the Hudson River Valley is atwitter with delight over the return of their beloved maiden, the Miss Katharina! Yes, 'tis true, what the society column of the Rhinebeck Gazette reports: my wan visage once again graces ballrooms and parlors throughout the valley.

I shall provide you with a brief account of my doings and whereabouts over the past dozen fortnights or so. I have only recently returned to Papá's estate after spending lonely months in the Glensheen mansion in the wilds of Minnesota. Of course you know that I underwent the dreadful restive lung cure in order to cure my consumption. Such horrors I could never have imagined, not even in my worst nightmares of Ireland. O! the pain! O! the intrusiveness into the very depths of my femininity!

Yet, often, the treatment is worse than the cure. This is true of the remedy for my congestion of the genitalia, which involves applying a massive vibrating mechanism to certain nether regions of my anatomy until I reach an hysterical paroxysm. And it proved also to be true of the tuberculosis remedy. What agony was visited upon me during months of daily treatments in an equalizing pressure chamber! I was made to spend eight hours a day confined to the horrific machine; I bode the remainder of my time lying helplessly in a canopied bed, my every whim being tended to by a faithful Indian Nurse-maid, Ah-Mi-Kobi-Wai, or Young Beaver Fur in the more civilized English tongue. Slowly, my lungs were brought back to original capacity. One morning I suddenly had the urge to sit upright. "No, no, you mustn't!" cried Ah-Mi-Kobi-Wai. But I could fight the urge no longer! My diminutive feet swung onto the floor, and with a great, unseemly strength I pulled myself up to standing position....and promptly swooned! I awoke swaddled by Young Beaver Fur, who promptly set me back in bed with an admonishment not to tempt my femininity. Yet each day I was able to sit for progressively longer periods, until I could stand with characteristic (not excessive) feebleness.

And here I am, back to civilization! What wonders the world of modern medicine bestows upon the wealthy! To think how far industry and technology have come since the days of Pliny, who recommended treating the dreaded consumption with "wolf's liver taken in thin wine, the lard of a sow that has been fed upon grass, or the flesh of a she-ass taken in broth." Thank the wealthy and industrious for the equalizing pressure chamber!