Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Week 8 of 2014 - 5th Grade Memories

Easter 1966 - Harold Smith Family
In fifth grade, I began to realize that maybe there were good reasons to have boys in your life. I also found one that I thought maybe I liked better than all the others. I did not understand it but his name was David Moon and I, for some silly reason, could not quit thinking about him. Did I have a crush on him? What did I feel like this for? I was certainly confused but I sure liked to be around him.

At Christmas in 1965, I am still playing with dolls with Linda Jacobsen.
 One day during recess a group of kids, including David and myself , were playing “tag” on the play ground. Before I knew it I was tagged by a boy named Georgie and I was “it”. Georgie rode the bus with us and I really did not like him but he seemed to like me. We picked him up on Campground Road just before coming into the town that our school was in. Since I became “it”, I decided to chase after David, of course! As I was chasing him, I slide in the mud and felling head over heels into a marshy wet mud puddle at the back of the play ground. I had extended my arm to try to break my fall. My hand and arm sank in the mud past my wrist. It was a wonder that I did not brake my wrist but I did not. I had a dress on with leggings. I was more concerned about the mud all over me and all the kids that were staring at me, than if I was hurt. The play ground monitor came over to see what all the commotion was about as the crowd gathered around me. I was embarrassed, close to tears and totally covered in mud with all these kids looking at me. She helped me out of the mud and looked me over. That was when we realized that I had a cut on my palm. It was oozing blood and mud. So off to the office I went to see the school nurse.

In the Nurse's office, they got me cleaned up. They tried to find clothes that would fit me so I could get out of my muddy wet clothes. I looked pretty funny in pants that were too short and a dress that was far to large but it was dry and not covered in mud. After getting the mud off my hand and out of the cut, it was decided that I probably need a few stitches. I had probably found a piece of glass hidden in the mud which cause the cut. It was about an inch long and a half inch deep in the palm of my hand in the fleshy part by the base of the thumb. It was bleeding pretty good and you could see fleshy tissue.

SO my parents were called to see if they could come and get me. This was a problem since Mom did not have a car at home. Dad had it with him at work. So she called Dad and he left work headed to the school. He worked in Rochester so it would just take a bit more time. Once he got me, then he took me home and got Mom. It would be her job to go to Dr Chabidor's office with me, Dad would stay home with the other kids. So Mom drove me to the doctor's office in Romeo. All the while I am holding a wad of gauze on my hand, trying to keeping it from bleeding too much.

Once we arrived at the Dr office, I remember sitting in the waiting room for what seemed like forever. Of course now I know that they were trying to fit us into their schedule but I did not know that then. I could not figure out why we had to wait so long. It was nearly dark by the time we got to go back to the exam room. Everyone else had gotten to see the doctor.

He took a good look at it and poked at it. It hurt when he touched it but it wasn't bleeding any more. “ You did a pretty good job, young lady!” he exclaimed. I thought, “I'm a girl” but I did not say anything. He looked at Mom and said, “She needs 3 or 4 stitches. We'll numb it a little and stitch it after I have the nurse clean it a bit more.” Mom said, “OK sounds good” The nurse came in and worked on it a bit to clean it. It hurt and I cried a little. The he came back with this shot that looked like it was HUGE and I got really scared and could not get the tears to stop. He sat next to me and said, “ Look, it is going to be OK, this shot will make it so you can not feel anything else I have to do. It will be better after I do this, I promise. You can look away if you want but I have to put it right where your cut is..” Then the tears really started to flow and I did not need to look away because I could not see through my tears anyway. He did not give me a chance to do anything. All of a sudden the shot was in the wound and in no time...I did not feel a thing. After that, I got rather interested in what he was doing. He put a stitch inside the wound and then three on the outside. All the while he was talking to me and telling me what he was doing.

Before I knew it, he was all done. “You are going to have a nice scar on your hand that will forever remind you of today!” And he was right. That was my first and last “stitches” event as a child.




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