Word: warded
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Born in a mixed black-white, Catholic-Jewish, Irish-Polish neighborhood on Chicago's West Side, Sheil was lace-curtain Irish. His grandfather had been an alderman, his father was Democratic leader of the 14th Ward. Entering St. Viator's College in Bourbonnais (a later pupil: Fulton J. Sheen), Sheil was ordained in 1910 and assigned to a middle-class parish. He caught Cardinal Mundelein's eye, however, and began to receive promising assignments. He served as chaplain at the Cook County jail, as an assistant at Holy Name Cathedral and was named chancellor of the archdiocese...
...patients rarely communicate, the nurses never talk to you either. They seemed nice but never had time for the patients except to occasionally hand out a cigarette or say "mop the floor." And the doctors were so distant they might have been another species. They strode through the ward on long rubbery legs at ninety miles an hour and the only thing they seemed to have to do with the ward was to use it as a path from where they had been to where they were going. Once a doctor slowed down to thirty as he passed the chair...
...couldn't take the huge empty loncliness of the hospital grounds so I went back into O-Building and stood in the corner of the canteen. To the left was the stairway up to O-2 and next to it was the entrance to O-1, a women's ward. Two women patients with gray hair ran the canteen. There was always a buzz of activity around the counter where coffee and cigarettes and doughnuts and candy were sold. It wasn't especially living activity, but it was activity just the same. Patients from other wards on the East Side...
AFTER A while the dinner bell rang and everyone on the ward started shutlling a little, and a few minutes later we were trooped down through the tunnel to the cafeteria...
...nurses standing sternly with crossed arms under the pillars and my fellow patients dressed in cheap cotton with a half a set of teeth each. And back in O-2 I began expectantly thinking about what it would be like to have lan walk onto the ward and say let's go and as easy as that leave this enormous machine that endlessly cranks out thick swatches of time like huge strings of taffy. It was absurd to be able to simply walk out. Some elaborate rite of passage seemed called...