MENINGITIS

Photo: Get well card from Sister Katherine

                      
THEN:


     When I was nine years old and in the fourth grade, I missed over 60 days of school, due to many illnesses. Mostly I struggled with bladder infections, strep throat, ear infections, and tonsillitis. The few days I did show up for school, I sat near my friend Paul M. The girls that had been my most constant companions, Jutannia and Angie, were in the other fourth grade class and we only saw each other before and after classes, and at recess, and lunch. We had a bartering game going where we would all bring something from home that we or our family no longer wanted and then we would pass them around and make offers until we found something we liked better and we would trade to get that. Sometimes you would have to make a few different trades before you came up with an item the other person liked well enough to trade you for what you wanted. I got my mother a beautiful broach of a Christmas pin for Christmas that year. During classes I had to do without my girlfriends, but I liked Paul very well. He and I tried hard to pay attention to our very strict teacher, Mrs. French, but the world was full of horses, and motorcycles, comic books, and Saturday morning cartoons, all of which were infinitely more interesting than any of the stuff Mrs. French wanted us to listen to her drone on about. I stayed in a bit of trouble. 

     One day I was so sick that Jutannia walked me to the car and told my parents that I needed to see a doctor. My folks took me to see Dr. Alderman and he gave me a nice hot penicillin shot. I hated shots but it seemed like I got them every time I turned around. A felt better for a bit, but a few days later I was standing at the end of my parents' bed, watching "The Wonderful World of Walt Disney" come on the television and trying to decide if I wanted to crawl up on the bed or sit on the chair that was directly in front of the t.v. I was very tired and lying down sounded great, but my neck hurt and I knew I'd have to crane it to see the show from the bed. Still, I was so drowsy that I felt sure I might fall asleep if I stretched out, and I loved that show and did not want to miss it. 

     The next thing I knew I was lying on Mom and Dad's bed and they were both talking to me, but I could not really understand what they were saying. I had to close my eyes for a moment and rest and when I did a blackness sucked me away. When I opened my eyes again, I was in the back seat of the car. Daddy was driving fast and Mommy was crying and praying out loud. I wished she would not be upset. Everything was okay; I was sure. I closed my eyes again and then I was in a bright room with nurses and a doctor rushing about. I wondered why they were so frantic and closed my eyes once more. When next I opened them I was in terrible pain. A nurse was trying to hold me down and the doctor was behind her, hurting me in my back. He scolded the nurse to keep me still. She scolded me to stay still, but I was determined to get away. Surely they were trying to kill me! Where were my mommy and daddy? The doctor called for more help and other nurses came in. Three of them tried to flatten me to the bed and the blackness, welcome this time, sucked me under again. I woke in a hospital bed and saw my parents standing over me with green masks on their faces and green gowns over their clothing. I was wearing a soft hospital gown and I had an IV in my hand. Mom and Dad told me the doctor thought I had Meningitis, but we had to wait for the test to come back before we would know for sure. They told me that the doctor had hurt me in my back because he had to do what was called a "spinal tap" to see if it was indeed Meningitis and to know how to get rid of it. When asked, I told them I felt better already, and I did. My parents wondered if Dr. Alderman had let them down by thinking I simply had strep throat and giving me a shot, but the doctor at the hospital said Meningitis could not be diagnosed without a spinal tap, and besides, Dr. Alderman had likely saved my life with that shot as they were sure it did make a difference that first night when it was touch and go with me.

     The family only had to wear the masks and gowns for one day, as the test revealed that I did have Meningitis but I did not have a contagious form of it. What I had was bacterial, not viral. Sandi stayed at home but she visited often. Mother and Dad stayed with me at the hospital every day. Lila came to see me several times, but Tanya and Little Johnny were not allowed to come up to my floor in the hospital. I missed them terribly and a kind nurse suggested that she take me to a window so I could at least see them and wave at them. Lila went back out to the car to find the area the nurse had told her she would take me. (The window in my room did not look out over an area where Lila could stand with the kids, but instead looked out over the roof of another section of the hospital.) The nurse put me in a wheelchair and took me to a window and there I could see my sweet niece and my baby nephew with my sister. I waved and smiled and waved and smiled. When the nurse said she had to take me back to my room I was disappointed that the visit, such as it was, was over. I waved one last time and then noticed that my IV was full of blood. The sight both frightened and disgusted me, but the nurse assured me it would go right back into my body and suggested I just not look at it for a bit. At my request, someone brought me my new Holly Hobby doll from home. I had just gotten before getting sick,and I had wanted a Holly Hobby doll for ages. I remember that it was not Holly herself but one of her friends, either Amy or Heather. I have forgotten which after all these years, but I do think it was Heather. I remember being both thrilled to have any of the Holly Hobby dolls and somewhat disappointed that it was not Holly herself. Still, green was my favorite color and she was wearing green. And besides, I had plans to get all the Holly Hobby dolls if I could and also Raggedy Ann and Andy, so I considered this one just the start of my collection. 

     Once, the nice nurse asked me to use a bed pan when I had first been admitted and she did not think I should get out of bed. I put the bed pan on the bed and squatted over it and used it as we used our chamber pot at home. She laughed a bit and said, "Well, that's one way to get the job done." Later that day, I asked my mother why the nurse thought that was funny, and she explained that people usually use bed pans lying down. I was shocked and asked her how they kept their pee from running up onto their back and into their bed. Mother said she did not know, but most of the time that was how people used a bed pan. I was okay with the nurse laughing at me, as I was convinced I had saved myself a wet bed. 
  
     After I started feeling healthier the visitors poured in. Our pastor came, many of the church brothers and sisters visited, my Sunday school teacher, Sister Katherine came to visit me twice. Once I was asleep and she left a card telling me that I smiled in my sleep. Most of the visitors brought me small gifts to help me pass the time. I was given coloring books, crayons, small puzzles, and other gifts. Brother Starland and Sister Gerry did what we, in those days, called "ceramics". Which is to say they poured ceramic into molds and then painted the creations after they had hardened and been removed from the mold. Brother Starland brought me a mug that had a face on it that looked like a totem pole face and Sister Gerry brought me a very pretty box for my jewelry and trinkets. I loved both those gifts very much!

     At one point the nurses had to change the IV from one hand to the other, as the first hand was hurting and was very swollen. Getting the new IV hurt much more than I expected, probably because I had been so sick I had slept through the first one, but I gritted my teeth and held my breath, like Daddy had taught me, and I made through the pain. On the eighth day they did another spinal tap, but having had time to prepare myself, and having my favorite nurse hold my hand made all the difference in the world. I weathered that one without fighting and without crying, but I wanted very much to do both! Spinal taps are very painful! The nurses removed the IV entirely that night because we had been told that I could go home the next day. That night the doctor ordered one last dose of high powered antibiotic and the nurse gave it to me in my leg while I was sleeping. I woke up crying as the medicine burnt all the way to my toes. I had not cried over a shot since I was three, and the shame made me cry even harder. I was concerned that Daddy would be disappointed with me. Mother petted me until my tears distressed her so much she said she had to leave the room. As usual, Daddy was given my tears. He came in as she left. To my great relief, he patted my head and said, "That's okay, Possumfrog. You still have plenty of sand in your craw. You've been through a whole lot and that nurse surprised you with that old shot, that's all." I snubbed a time or two and nodded gratefully at him. Then, still feeling violated but so much better since Pop was not disappointed in me, I drifted back to sleep.

     When we made it home two things happened in a short period of time: I accidentally broke the wonderful box that Sister Gerry gave me and my mother burned my Holly Hobby doll in with the trash. we always burned what trash we could in a rusty old bin outside, and she was convinced the doll might harbor germs from my sickness and from the hospital. She came to me and told me she was sorry, but my dolly would have to be burned. I tried to plead for my beloved toy. I suggested we wash her in the washing machine. Mother shook her head though, and I could see the determination in her eyes. Sometimes she simply must have her way, so I turned to the wall and let hot tears slide silently down my face while my sweet doll was destroyed with the boxes, and paper bags, and other combustible rubble. I gave up on getting any more rag dolls after that. I deemed them too flammable, and I figured my mother would destroy them after every sickness I had. But a few years ago my adopted sister gave me a Holly Hobby doll, Holly herself! And now I'm thinking I just may go ahead and collect her friends and Raggedy Ann and Andy now. After all, I get to decide if they go in the rubble bin now, and if I survive a few more years, I should have more grand babies that will be allowed to visit and able to play with the rag dolls, a sock monkey or two, and all the classic toys I wish I'd had. They can also play with all the ones I did have, like Slinkies, View Master Viewers, and spinning tops. I just need to collect them!

     I still have the totem mug, the cards people brought me, and the memories of a little girl tackling a big, scary illness. I still have a scar on my back from that first spinal tap and one on my hand from the first IV. I still have my daddy's approval, my mother's concern, and I still have the story. And now you have it too. 

Photo: Inside the get well card from Sister Kathrine