|Easter 1966 - Harold Smith Family|
|At Christmas in 1965, I am still playing with dolls with Linda Jacobsen.|
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.