Jun. 08, 2002 - 18:34 MDT

THE WONDERING JEW

Early Lessons

Remembering a little of my early history today. Before I started school, I was aware, communicative but not psychic.

I was beginning to be hard of hearing, and thinking back, sore throat, earaches and constant colds had accustomed me to doctors peering down my throat using those very uncomfortable wooden tongue depressors. So some close together visits to a doctor were not enough to sound the alarms for me, those were more like my usual life.

It never occurred to me that anything out of the ordinary was about to come into my life. But there was something about to happen, years afterward the reasoning was explained to me. Then came my emotion.

I woke up one morning to see this big burly guy laying out some clinking, shiny, metallic things on the dresser next to my bed. It piqued my interest it did, and not having seen the fellow before I asked him, "Who are you ?" It being my house I had the conviction that there existed a right for me to ask. He told me, "Never mind, just go back to sleep."

My house and someone unknown to me doing some weird things with strange metal things in my bedroom telling me to, "Never mind, just go back to sleep," didn't ring true to me as well as totally ticking this little snot off . So I asked him several times and got essentially the same answer from him. So, this kid was teed off even more to say the least as this was not the way things had been done in my house before.

Soon my Dad and my Uncle came into the bedroom, picked me up and carried me out to the kitchen. Red Alert -- my internal sirens going full blast. Something was up for sure and it looked as if it had something to do with a bad thing about to happen to me. I asked my Dad to, "Please let me down Dad," and he shook his head saying nothing, there were people in the room but nobody said anything. I gathered that something was going to happen -- to me -- and it wouldn't be good. I started to fight for my freedom, Geez I wanted to at least be standing up when the bad stuff began.

Dad and my Uncle laid me on my back on the kitchen table and I was handled as gently as they could. I was now in full panic mode then my heart thumping in my chest. My only option would have been flight, but I was restrained on the table.

Some one held my head still and this man in white with a mask covering everything but his eyes loomed over me, something I didn't recognize was put over my face. I remember screaming for just a bit and then - - - nothing.

It seemed to me that I slept forever and it was hard for me to come awake. As I became aware having a very fuzzy head and the sorest throat I ever had made itself apparent to me. Mom wasn't around but I remember looking up at my Dad and trying to say, "Why ?" Dad said, "You just had your tonsils taken out.

Cripes, I didn't even know what tonsils were but I hurt and wanted whatever was taken from me to be put back and things become alright again.

Some time much later my Dad told me that the Doctor said that he had to use enough ether that would have put a horse down before I stopped struggling in an attempt to get away. For years afterward a whiff of ether when passing a doctor's office would make me physically ill.

I vaguely remember that I was in shakey shape for a few days and that Dad stayed home from work to be with us. I received plenty of tender loving care from then on. I don't know why I never asked Mom, but I guess maybe it was the thought it would hurt her if I asked her where she was when the melee was in progress. My physical recovery from tonsil and adenoid removal was pretty normal from there on.

As time went on I asked several times why no one had told me what was going on. My attention would be distracted by some waffling move or another.

I guess I was in my early teens when Mom finally explained to me that Aunt Martha said for them not to tell me of the impending procedure. I did wait until I saw the friend of the family, Aunt Martha, to ask her if that is what she told Mom and received an affirmative answer from her. There weren't even diplomatic relations between us anymore after that. I still feel strongly against that type of thing being done to children.

About that time was when I formed the thought, "Some day I will be married and we will have children. I will always be honest and let them know what will happen and try to explain why it would have to be."

I became a somewhat adult and married Heather and soon became a father. I stayed firm on my earlier thoughts. An example of that was when my youngest daughter fell and got a gash on the top of her head. I washed it, put merthiolate on it -- first warning her, "Now this is going to hurt, but not for long and you can stand it." Then I said, "I'm going to take you to he doctor to make sure things are alright." Then followed the comment, "He might have to take some stitches to close the wound up. It will hurt but not as bad as you head hurt when you fell." When we got to the doctor's I told him, "Baby is a brave girl, please tell her ahead of time about what you are going to do and about what level of pain will ensue." Or words to that effect. He was a kind and gentle GP and handled the situation in a fantastic manner, keeping her aware of what he was going to do and why. A bit of shaved skull, a little novocaine and a few stitches and we went home with a few tabs of Tylenol.

Now this little girl who didn't tolerate pain too well was a great patient for the doctor throughout the procedure. Late in the evening just before her bed time I asked her how her head felt and she replied, "Daddy its sore but okay."

We used that philosophy with all our kids which worked very well to my way of thinking.

I may be a dense guy and not super intelligent, but in the treatment of people I think life taught me some Early Lessons . . . . . . . . .

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