Time for Surgery

We stopped yesterday with the revelation that I had a hernia that required surgery. Here is what the doctor said at my next visit.

I have nasal congestion and my eyes don't look completely normal so surgery is postponed a week. My Mom's handwritten notes below show I will go to the hospital on Sunday and have surgery on Monday. I am three and a half years old so I have little memory of any of this experience. I remember coming home from the hospital and Dad telling my older brother not to punch me in the stomach or jump on me. We were boys and that is the kind of things brothers do to each other. While I can't remember if we actually followed his direction I suspect we did. Dad didn't often demand much but when he did you most assuredly listened and complied.

The next doctor note is from June 1959. I imagine that I had doctor appointments between 1957 and 1959 but I don't have those notes.

In the world of doctor talk I have moved from sturdy to husky to chunky. The doctor notes my tonsils are moderately enlarged and not real healthy. In the 58 years since that visit I have been to other doctors about my tonsils. The doctor in 1959 said they were not real healthy. Well maybe not but I still have them. I still wear special shoes and I hope even today, all these years later, I have a little spring in my gait. My next visit things take a turn. Remember I grew up on a farm and apparently viewed dirt as a food group.

We have again moved from chunky to "above average in height and weight". Dear Doctor Dayton just can't use the word fat. My general physical condition is good aside from the worms. Time for enemas and medication. I don't remember any of this and quite frankly I am glad. When my Mom gave me this note a couple of weeks ago she said I might not want to include this one in the blog. Those of you who know me are confident it would be included. You get my truth even when it is less than flattering. This is the last note I have prior to beginning school in September 1960. We will get into that on my next post.

This is the final doctor note. I have completed first grade and I'm back at the doctor with a mild skin infection.

The only other incident I remember did not involve an injury while waiting for the school bus one morning when I was in grade school. Kids are clumsy and I was certainly no exception. I fell and dislocated my thumb. It was an ugly injury. Dad called the doctor and asked what to do. He was instructed to have someone pull my thumb outward while the other person shoved it back in joint. Grandpa was called over and assisted while I screamed bloody murder. A Popsicle stick was taped on both sides of my thumb and the entire process was completed before the school bus arrived. Yes, back in those days a dislocated thumb was no reason to miss a day of school.