Tag Archives: stories about illness

Owies

 

How did your family take care of minor injuries? Bandaids and mercurochrome. Ouch.

Did you have home remedies you used? When I was sick with a stomach ache, my dad always came home with a cold bottle of 7Up for me. But, he also made us take Blackberry Balsam as a spring tonic. We all hated it!!!!!

What was the typical way to care for a cold or flu at your house? Vicks Vapo Rub on my chest with a washcloth over it to protect my pajamas. And a horrible horrible cough medicine. It was thick and creamy and tan and tasted like vomit.

Were you pampered when you were sick/hurt or told to buck up and deal with it? Pampered. My mom would let us sleep downstairs in her and Dad’s room so she’d be close in case I needed anything. My sister Patti would go over and borrow books and toys from her best friend Patty Peck next door and read to me. She was the nicest to me when I was sick. Once she went and borrowed their ice crusher so I could have it in my fruit drinks and once she borrowed Patty’s furniture and little dolls for my doll house and I never had to give it back!!!

When you got sick as a kid did you stay home, or did you have to go to school? Stayed home. When I had the measles, my mother made me keep my hands above the covers so I wouldn’t scratch them and create scars, but we had a baby raccoon that she would bathe and powder and put in bed with me to help me pass the time because it had to be dark to protect my eyes, so I couldn’t read or color or do much at all. Zippy turned out to be very entertaining, zipping over the side of the bed, under it, then up the other side, like a race horse. Another additional benefit was that I’d put him under the covers and he would extend his beautiful little black-nailed pointer finger and gently scratch each measle, one after another, for hours at a time. Mother never knew until much later and he did a good job as I only have one pock mark on my leg.

Did a parent stay home with you, or did you fend for yourself? My mother was always at home.

Was a doctor visited when you had a minor injury or illness? Doc Murphy would come see us. He made house calls. I had lots of ear infections–some of them close to mastoids–and since he lived across the  alley from us, he’d come see me frequently. Once when he had to give me a penicillin shot in the bottom, he gave me one spank first and asked me which hurt worse. It was to distract my attention from the shot but one of those cases where the cure was worse than the disease!

Did you ever have a major illness or injury growing up? How did it impact your life? Once my mother looked down my throat and saw a big growth. She took me to Doc Murphy and he said they should take me to the Mayo Clinic right away. They put me in the car and we drove there—-a 439 mile journey. I remember being irate because a nurse in the examining room told me, “Here, Honey, pee in this pot!”  I was outraged and embarrassed as I had never peed in front of anyone that I could remember. Then the doctor came in, took one look and said, “That’s her uvula!” I passed my exam with flying colors and got a little vacation out of it. We stayed in a guest house with a big screened porch that was sorta high up in the air and I got an activity book that included tongue twisters, one of which I remember to this day: “Betty Boughter bought a bit of bitter butter. “But,” she said, “this butter’s bitter. I can’t put it in my batter, for if I put it in my batter, it will make my batter bitter, but if I buy some better butter, it will make my batter better!” So Betty Boughter bought a bit of better butter and made her batter better!!!

 

For Throwback Thursday’s “Ouchies and Owies” prompt.

Snowball in Hell


I just got home from a luncheon where I was surprised to discover I’d received the 2017 Ojo del Lago Award for outstanding literary achievement in the category of best fiction for a short story, “Snowball in Hell.”  I don’t believe I’ve ever published it on my blog as it was done as a timed writing for my writing group in La Manzanilla. Since it loosely follows the prompt for today, which is “tentative,” I’ll stretch things a bit and publish it today:

Snowball in Hell

“There’s not a snowball’s chance in Hell,” she snarled at him as he beat a hasty retreat out the door. Everyone knew she was a feisty old dame, but she still felt compelled to prove the fact often enough to remind herself of the truth of it. Lately, she’d been feeling herself mellow. Growing teary-eyed at the sight of kittens on YouTube videos—having little heart-flutters when she glimpsed other women’s grandchildren in photos on cell phones.

When she stood back to consider this strange new course of events, she could only view it as she might view a mysterious disease—look at the symptoms, try to figure out a cure. Surely, being around children or kittens might help. Nothing like reality to pop the bubble of a fancy. Kibbles underfoot and gumdrops in the sheets could surely cancel out cute. Although she had no experience with such cures, since they’d never been necessary before.

Jake had wanted kids long ago. Actually, he’d gone on wanting them for a good twenty years—as long as she might have provided them—but her refusal had been as determined as her response today, when he had asked if she perhaps would be interested in a Caribbean cruise. Her on a cruise ship with old men in madras shorts and women in beauty-parlor hairdos? She tried to think of what she would do on a boat. She had taken a mental oath years before to never play shuffleboard and bridge made her dyspeptic. She’d discovered this in college, waiting for Karen Schuller to play her hand, drumming her long perfectly polished fingernails on the bridge table, screwing her little red cupid box mouth into a perplexed knot.

“Play the damn card!!!” she’d screamed internally, afraid that if the bitch ran one more finger tattoo on the table that she’d slam her fist down on that perfect hand. It seemed easier to give up bridge than to give up the aggression she felt every time she heard the sharp drumming and viewed that pensive mouth.

Cruise ships, she was sure, were full of Karen Schullers, all grown up, with fingernails an inch longer, lips forty years more wrinkled. And they made you eat things like lobster and crabs—giant underwater bugs that no one would ever convince her were meant for consumption. But the truth of it was, that aside from these irritations, being cooped up in a cabin with Jake for a week or more must didn’t carry any attraction for her any more. The old coot got stranger by the day. Just last night, on the couch, watching Ray Donovan, he had tried to hold her hand. Forty years married and like a teenager, furtively reaching over. They’d been done with all that syrup years ago, but now, why was he thinking hand holds and Caribbean cruises?

What month was it? She tried to sort out a reason. Valentine’s Day, birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas––not that they ever observed any of them. Finally, she gave up. There was no accounting for old men in their first states of senility. She would just have to put up with it, but she didn’t have to go along. She settled herself more solidly into her chair and grabbed the remote, switching on the TV connected to her computer. Millie Perkins had Facebooked her another puppy/bunny video. She tried to resist, but found herself moving the mouse over to the arrow. The bunny had loppy ears and the puppy had very long hair and a little vest. She clicked off the TV quickly when Jake came into the room, but didn’t greet him.

“Clara?” he asked tentatively. She pretended not to hear. “Honey?” In his hand was an envelope that looked sort of crumpled and a bit dusty, like he’d been hanging onto it for awhile. “Remember your last checkup? The results came a few days ago.” She looked up at him, and his face looked soft––like the face of the bunny. Something was written on it––a different sadness that she hadn’t seen before. He sat down beside her on the couch and risked once more taking her hand. And this time she let him.

http://chapala.com/elojo/index.php/218-articles-2017/september-2017/3872-snowball-in-hell

The prompt today was tentative