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Yossarian
could
run
into
the
hospital
whenever
he
wanted
to
because
of
his
liver
and
because
of
his
eyes
;
the
doctors
couldn
t
fix
his
liver
condition
and
couldn
t
meet
his
eyes
each
time
he
told
them
he
had
a
liver
condition
.
He
could
enjoy
himself
in
the
hospital
,
just
as
long
as
there
was
no
one
really
very
sick
in
the
same
ward
.
His
system
was
sturdy
enough
to
survive
a
case
of
someone
else
s
malaria
or
influenza
with
scarcely
any
discomfort
at
all
.
He
could
come
through
other
people
s
tonsillectomies
without
suffering
any
postoperative
distress
,
and
even
endure
their
hernias
and
hemorrhoids
with
only
mild
nausea
and
revulsion
.
But
that
was
just
about
as
much
as
he
could
go
through
without
getting
sick
.
After
that
he
was
ready
to
bolt
.
He
could
relax
in
the
hospital
,
since
no
one
there
expected
him
to
do
anything
.
All
he
was
expected
to
do
in
the
hospital
was
die
or
get
better
,
and
since
he
was
perfectly
all
right
to
begin
with
,
getting
better
was
easy
.
Being
in
the
hospital
was
better
than
being
over
Bologna
or
flying
over
Avignon
with
Huple
and
Dobbs
at
the
controls
and
Snowden
dying
in
back
.
There
were
usually
not
nearly
as
many
sick
people
inside
the
hospital
as
Yossarian
saw
outside
the
hospital
,
and
there
were
generally
fewer
people
inside
the
hospital
who
were
seriously
sick
.
There
was
a
much
lower
death
rate
inside
the
hospital
than
outside
the
hospital
,
and
a
much
healthier
death
rate
.
Few
people
died
unnecessarily
.
People
knew
a
lot
more
about
dying
inside
the
hospital
and
made
a
much
neater
,
more
orderly
job
of
it
.
They
couldn
t
dominate
Death
inside
the
hospital
,
but
they
certainly
made
her
behave
.
They
had
taught
her
manners
.
They
couldn
t
keep
Death
out
,
but
while
she
was
in
she
had
to
act
like
a
lady
.
People
gave
up
the
ghost
with
delicacy
and
taste
inside
the
hospital
.
There
was
none
of
that
crude
,
ugly
ostentation
about
dying
that
was
so
common
outside
the
hospital
.
They
did
not
blow
up
in
mid
-
air
like
Kraft
or
the
dead
man
in
Yossarian
s
tent
,
or
freeze
to
death
in
the
blazing
summertime
the
way
Snowden
had
frozen
to
death
after
spilling
his
secret
to
Yossarian
in
the
back
of
the
plane
.
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"
I
m
cold
,
"
Snowden
had
whimpered
.
"
I
m
cold
.
"
"
There
,
there
,
"
Yossarian
had
tried
to
comfort
him
.
"
There
,
there
.
"
They
didn
t
take
it
on
the
lam
weirdly
inside
a
cloud
the
way
Clevinger
had
done
.
They
didn
t
explode
into
blood
and
clotted
matter
.
They
didn
t
drown
or
get
struck
by
lightning
,
mangled
by
machinery
or
crushed
in
landslides
.
They
didn
t
get
shot
to
death
in
hold
-
ups
,
strangled
to
death
in
rapes
,
stabbed
to
death
in
saloons
,
bludgeoned
to
death
with
axes
by
parents
or
children
or
die
summarily
by
some
other
act
of
God
.
Nobody
choked
to
death
.
People
bled
to
death
like
gentlemen
in
an
operating
room
or
expired
without
comment
in
an
oxygen
tent
.
There
was
none
of
that
tricky
now
-
you
-
see
-
me
-
now
-
you
-
don
t
business
so
much
in
vogue
outside
the
hospital
,
none
of
that
now
-
I
-
am
-
and
-
now
-
I
-
ain
t
.
There
were
no
famines
or
floods
.
Children
didn
t
suffocate
in
cradles
or
iceboxes
or
fall
under
trucks
.
No
one
was
beaten
to
death
.
People
didn
t
stick
their
heads
into
ovens
with
the
gas
on
,
jump
in
front
of
subway
trains
or
come
plummeting
like
dead
weights
out
of
hotel
windows
with
a
whoosh
!
,
accelerating
at
the
rate
of
sixteen
feet
per
second
to
land
with
a
hideous
plop
!
on
the
sidewalk
and
die
disgustingly
there
in
public
like
an
alpaca
sack
full
of
hairy
strawberry
ice
cream
,
bleeding
,
pink
toes
awry
.
All
things
considered
,
Yossarian
often
preferred
the
hospital
,
even
though
it
had
its
faults
.
The
help
tended
to
be
officious
,
the
rules
,
if
heeded
,
restrictive
,
and
the
management
meddlesome
.
Since
sick
people
were
apt
to
be
present
,
he
could
not
always
depend
on
a
lively
young
crowd
in
the
same
ward
with
him
,
and
the
entertainment
was
not
always
good
.
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He
was
forced
to
admit
that
the
hospitals
had
altered
steadily
for
the
worse
as
the
war
continued
and
one
moved
closer
to
the
battlefront
,
the
deterioration
in
the
quality
of
the
guests
becoming
most
marked
within
the
combat
zone
itself
where
the
effects
of
booming
wartime
conditions
were
apt
to
make
themselves
conspicuous
immediately
.
The
people
got
sicker
and
sicker
the
deeper
he
moved
into
combat
,
until
finally
in
the
hospital
that
last
time
there
had
been
the
soldier
in
white
,
who
could
not
have
been
any
sicker
without
being
dead
,
and
he
soon
was
.
The
soldier
in
white
was
constructed
entirely
of
gauze
,
plaster
and
a
thermometer
,
and
the
thermometer
was
merely
an
adornment
left
balanced
in
the
empty
dark
hole
in
the
bandages
over
his
mouth
early
each
morning
and
late
each
afternoon
by
Nurse
Cramer
and
Nurse
Duckett
right
up
to
the
afternoon
Nurse
Cramer
read
the
thermometer
and
discovered
he
was
dead
.
Now
that
Yossarian
looked
back
,
it
seemed
that
Nurse
Cramer
,
rather
than
the
talkative
Texan
,
had
murdered
the
soldier
in
white
;
if
she
had
not
read
the
thermometer
and
reported
what
she
had
found
,
the
soldier
in
white
might
still
be
lying
there
alive
exactly
as
he
had
been
lying
there
all
along
,
encased
from
head
to
toe
in
plaster
and
gauze
with
both
strange
,
rigid
legs
elevated
from
the
hips
and
both
strange
arms
strung
up
perpendicularly
,
all
four
bulky
limbs
in
casts
,
all
four
strange
,
useless
limbs
hoisted
up
in
the
air
by
taut
wire
cables
and
fantastically
long
lead
weights
suspended
darkly
above
him
.
Lying
there
that
way
might
not
have
been
much
of
a
life
,
but
it
was
all
the
life
he
had
,
and
the
decision
to
terminate
it
,
Yossarian
felt
,
should
hardly
have
been
Nurse
Cramer
s
.