Peggy

A slim book by an angry mother won a victory last week over French medical bureaucracy. In 1952 Micheline Vernhes, wife of a Casablanca industrialist, took her five-year-old daughter Peggy to Paris' Hopital Trousseau. Doctors recommended this public hospital, rather than a more comfortable private clinic, because of better lab facilities in treating Peggy's nearly hopeless case of rheumatic fever.

From the start, Hopital Trousseau "looked sinister"; the head nurse seemed like a heartless virago. Peggy was not allowed her "pretty, rose nightdress," instead got "a veritable sack." Under regulations barring money and jewels, she could not even keep her religious medal. "Pay for eight days," said the cashier. "If she doesn't last that long, you'll get the extra money back." On return visits, Micheline Vernhes had to wait outside the gates, often in the rain; Peggy sobbed hysterically each time her mother had to leave her alone after the brief visiting hours. After eight days, Micheline Vernhes could stand it no longer, took Peggy home to die.

All this she recalled in her bitter, 156-page book entitled simply Peggy, published last month and already a runaway bestseller in France. One reader deeply moved by the book was Dr. Xavier Leclainche, boss of public assistance for Paris. He called in Author Vernhes for a talk, issued swift orders. At his seven children's hospitals, parents may henceforth stay round the clock at the bedside of any patient near death. The youngsters may keep such items as lockets and crosses, and their own clothes. Parents may be present before and after all operations, and there will be waiting rooms. Dr. Leclainche will even try a hostess service, modeled on the job of an airplane stewardess, to ease the ordeal of parents and children.

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