My 15th birthday wasn't exactly "good" considering that I was in the Shrine Hospital for Children six hundred miles from home, I hadn't seen my parents in six weeks and didn't know when I would see them again, and I wasn't able to talk with them on the telephone. However, I had the BEST party ever!! As my 35 "inmates" and I entered the Sun room, my eyes immediately spotted my birthday cake, a 3-tiered white with pink polka dots cake. We all laughed so hard!! "Why?" you might ask. Because my favorite dress from the communal clothes closet was white with pink polka dots! Oh, and the music was blaring! All of our favorite tunes from the Monkees to the Beatles played throughout the afternoon. The nursing staff and the doctors on call that day danced and partied their hearts out for us...just as they did on EVERY child's birthday. They definitely knew how to throw a party!
A month later it was finally my turn! I was excited to be done with this and get back home where I belonged even though I was actually having a great time here. As the nurse explained the procedure to me, I just kept shaking my head, Yes...Yes. I already knew what would happen because I had my tonsils removed the year before. Or perhaps I was trying to portray the "courageous" side of me even though I was very apprehensive.
The staff here had a ritual that seemed so peculiar to me. On Tuesdays a child who were scheduled for surgery would be placed on a gurney and moved to the elevator door. The nurses on duty and as many children as possible would gather at the door; and as the gurney was pushed into the elevator to head downstairs to the operating room, everyone would clap, cheer, and yell out well wishes such as "Hurry Back!" "See you soon!" "It doesn't hurt!" When it was my turn, I realized that it wasn't peculiar at all, but their way of saying, "We love you, and will be here for you when you get back." What an awesome ritual!
According to the doctors, the surgery went well. I wasn't sure I believed that, though, because they kept surprising me the following week with moves I wasn't expecting. They cut the bottom of the cast off, pulled and twisted on my foot as I listened to my bones popping. This couldn't be good! They plastered my foot and again beamed at their success. Oh well, I hope they knew what they were doing. This full length cast looked and felt rather awkward, especially when it started turning colors around my ankle. The doctor assured me everything was fine and that it was just a little blood. YUCK!!
I haven't mentioned my family since this ordeal began, but my father kept his promise and sent me a newspaper every day. I was receiving tons of letters and writing just as many. Aunt Clara and Uncle Barney had been coming to visit me every Sunday afternoon following church. I found Aunt Clara quite a unique person, unlike anyone I had ever known. She wore the most beautiful dresses and was always wearing a fancy wide-brimmed hat.
My mother, too, was making those calls to the hospital several times a week to see how I was doing. On the Thursday before Labor Day, the nurse told me that my mom had called and that they would be coming to see me...the next day! I was soooooooo excited and started crying uncontrollably. It had been 3 months since I had seen them.
It was then that I told the nurse to get me a doctor. She became concerned and asked, "Are you okay? What's wrong? Are you hurting anywhere?" I begged her, "Just get me a doctor, please." She flew out of that ward, and within minutes, my doctor appeared, a worried look in his eyes.
I blurted out, "You need to cover that blood on my cast! My mom and dad are coming! and my mom will faint if she sees that blood! Hurry!"
He burst out laughing at me and said, "Yes, Ma'am!"
To be continued....
I said the same thing to my doctor after a triple arthrodesis when I was 26. I didn't want to terrify my beloved mother or make her think I was in any pain whatsoever.
ReplyDelete