Stuck In The House
“No day camp for you this year.”
I remember my mom telling me that prior to the summer of 1884.
While my brother was away at day camp, I was home-not because I was sick, though that ended up happening somewhat.
“Why can’t I go to day camp like EJ?” I asked.
My mom’s answer was straight. “You’re having surgery this summer”.
How does that settle with a ten-year-old? Not well, thank you.
As it turn out, that summer was hot and sticky. I can remember very little about the surgery, other than Children’s Memorial Hospital was around, and I was there for ten days total with both surgeries. I was alone most of that time, due to the fact that both my parents were working full time.
I’d had a seizure in between both procedures.
“Does your daughter have a seizure disorder”? was the question that came up during my ER visit. My mom said she couldn’t recall that; however, she did explain that I was born three months prematurely. It was determined after five days of tests that the seizure happened due to stress.
In this case, the surgery.
Itchy orange casts covered my legs for eight weeks, followed by 3 more weeks of painful rehab.
Sideways!
That’s how I had to be lifted and carried-in and out of the car, even the stairs.
“Does that hurt?”
“No, Mommy”.
“Good”.
Mom was worried about hurting me as she carried me. Dad did most of the carrying, though.
Bang!
During the time in the casts, I remember my mom banging me into walls, especially when she was trying to give me a bath. The wheelchair the hospital issued me was WAY TO BIG AND WIDE for my tiny frame. Unfortunately, it looked like I was sitting in an oversized wheelchair, as though I was fat.
La Rabida was the hospital I called home that August.
To keep up in school, I was also doing school time, as part of the therapy program. There were times to just be a kid, playing with the other children-many of whom were also dealing with simiar circumstances.
I remember my mom telling me that prior to the summer of 1884.
While my brother was away at day camp, I was home-not because I was sick, though that ended up happening somewhat.
“Why can’t I go to day camp like EJ?” I asked.
My mom’s answer was straight. “You’re having surgery this summer”.
How does that settle with a ten-year-old? Not well, thank you.
As it turn out, that summer was hot and sticky. I can remember very little about the surgery, other than Children’s Memorial Hospital was around, and I was there for ten days total with both surgeries. I was alone most of that time, due to the fact that both my parents were working full time.
I’d had a seizure in between both procedures.
“Does your daughter have a seizure disorder”? was the question that came up during my ER visit. My mom said she couldn’t recall that; however, she did explain that I was born three months prematurely. It was determined after five days of tests that the seizure happened due to stress.
In this case, the surgery.
Itchy orange casts covered my legs for eight weeks, followed by 3 more weeks of painful rehab.
Sideways!
That’s how I had to be lifted and carried-in and out of the car, even the stairs.
“Does that hurt?”
“No, Mommy”.
“Good”.
Mom was worried about hurting me as she carried me. Dad did most of the carrying, though.
Bang!
During the time in the casts, I remember my mom banging me into walls, especially when she was trying to give me a bath. The wheelchair the hospital issued me was WAY TO BIG AND WIDE for my tiny frame. Unfortunately, it looked like I was sitting in an oversized wheelchair, as though I was fat.
La Rabida was the hospital I called home that August.
To keep up in school, I was also doing school time, as part of the therapy program. There were times to just be a kid, playing with the other children-many of whom were also dealing with simiar circumstances.