According to my mother, my first sleeping area back at the apartment was made out of two chairs that she put together to fashion a makeshift crib.
I don’t seem to actually recall that, but I believe her.
As I write this, my earliest memory seems to be that of my tonsillectomy, which happened about the time I was three years old. I’m not able to verify the dates with my mother since she left the planet almost thirty years ago, but I did ask these things once upon a time and if my memory serves me correctly then the approximate dates in relation to my age during these events, will be true enough.
I remember bits and pieces of the experience…
I remember the hospital entryway and the largeness of it…
I remember being in a room with a few other children awaiting surgery.
I remember at night when I had to visit the restroom that I would wear paper slippers. I liked the slippers. They were different and fun.
I remember one night a nurse saw that I was heading to the bathroom and she said I couldn’t because it wasn’t allowed. I was supposed to urinate in my bed.
So they didn’t let me visit the restroom any more and always made sure the sides of the bed were up to cage me in. that wouldn’t have mattered since I could crawl over the bed-gates anyway but since they said I couldn’t I felt compelled to comply to their wishes since they were the adults.
What they didn’t understand was that I was NOT about to urinate in my bed. Not about to wet myself casually and be happy about it. So there I was in my cage. In pain both physical and emotional from having to urinate and being told I had to wet myself if I wanted to go…
Somehow in the course of events I was apparently thrashing about in distress and poked my eye on the railing of the bed. Anyway, I don’t actually recall that part of it but that’s what they reported to my mother. I remember the eye patch and the ointment and even now all these years later I still get a vague sensation of pain from the memory of it. It hurt a lot, and when the ointment was applied (as it had to be several times each day) it was especially unpleasant.
The injury delayed my leaving the hospital since they were concerned that I was going to lose the eye and wanted to have me close at hand to monitor it.
I remember one of my roommates was a little black boy. I don’t recall his name but I remember that he took care of me. It seems as I think of it now that he actually got the nurse when I first became injured. He was especially nice and even gave me as a gift a special apple that someone had brought him. I remember it had toothpicks and raisins in it. He was wonderful, was my friend and good to me in my hours of confusion, pain, and need. I hope he has gone on to have a very happy and wonderful life.
Finally the day came and I was allowed to return home with my mother. The eye patch went with me as did the daily applications of ointment. This is the first time I’ve ever really given any thought to that eye patch and I find it interesting that I actually recall some of the discomfort involved… Wow it must really have hurt a very lot.
All I remember right now about the returning home was that I was given a gift of a teddy bear sent by one of my cousins I believe. Was her name Linda? I think it may have been.
I named the bear Berry. Or was it Beary? Probably it was Beary since I was three and he was a bear. He was light blue, and white, with a red tongue and was destined from that moment to be my best friend and companion.
I remember sometimes when I would go to sleep at night, and my mother would kiss me goodnight, that I would say that Beary wanted to give her a kiss too, and I would lick his tongue and then touch it to her cheek because in my mind I felt that it made his kiss more real and lifelike.
I remember the prayer that I would say at night in bed while my mother listened. I remember that she would say it with me so I would remember it properly.
Now I lay me down to sleep.
I pray the lord my soul to keep.
And if I should die before I wake.
I pray the lord my soul to take.
I wonder if there are any little kids out there in the world these days that still say that prayer. Probably...
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Link to I PLEIADES - An Autobiographical Work - The Beginning - 1.
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