My time in the hospital, 1951

As a child, I had the usual contagious diseases all kids passed around back then:  three kinds of measles (hey, my mom thought there were three kinds, that's all I know); mumps; pinkeye (several times); whooping cough (that was the worst).  
In the summer of 1951 when I was seven years old, we were living in Guss, Iowa.  For no apparent reason, I became listless and my stomach hurt.  I began vomiting.  I remember laying on my bed while my mom bathed me with a washcloth and dressed me; then she took me to see Dr. Croxdale, whose office was probably in Villisca.  
He had me admitted to some small, local hospital where I was placed in a room with at least half-a-dozen other patients.  I was hooked up to an IV.  Relatives came from Missouri to visit me.  Looking back, I suppose everybody thought I was going to die.     
My mom swore I was vomiting blood, although I remember a nurse telling her no, it wasn't blood.  
There was one very sick lady in a bed at the far end of the room who, my mom whispered to Aunt Ruby, was dying of cancer.  
I received lots of get-well cards; many of them had little-girl handkerchiefs tucked inside.  Some people gave me kiddie books:  My favorites were "Cookie", about a dog that loved cookies more than anything else (my dog's name was Cookie); and one that was written in rhyme about the county fair.  It began, "I went to the fair, oh, the grand county fair, With so much to see and such fun everywhere."  
I was in the hospital for a week; toward the end of that time, I began feeling better.  Nurses brought me hot tea in a cute little brown teapot, and it tasted good.  Then they brought me broth and I kept that down.  The IV was removed from my leg (yes, my leg) and before you know it, I was taken home.  I was still weak, and my parents treated me like I was made of glass.  The Hampels, who owned the store down the road, had given me a robe during my hospital stay, the first one I ever owned.  I begged Mother to let me wear it down to the store to model it for them.  
Our big vacation every year was a trip to the Iowa State Fair at Des Moines, and Mother and Daddy decided it was safe to take me.  They made me promise to be very good and not run or jump.  During that visit to the fair, my parents' joy was almost tangible.        

Nobody ever knew exactly what ailment put me in the hospital.  A few years ago, I got to thinking about that book, "Cookie", that was given to me during that time.  I wanted to see that book again!  So I searched the Internet until I found an old copy.  It was originally published in 1944, the year of my birth.  This particular copy was printed in 1948.

           

Yes, by the time I finished reading the book, I needed some cookies in a bad way!  It still has that effect on me.  

I just checked Ebay and found "Let's Go To The Fair", the other book I remember receiving.  I'm not going to buy it, though.  

I remember

What it was like to go to a one-room schoolhouse

When "under God" wasn't in the pledge of allegiance, and nobody thought that was a big deal.  (It was added in 1954.)  

When margarine was white, but there was a capsule of some kind packaged with it that contained yellow food coloring, and my mom kneaded the color into the margarine.  President Truman signed the Margarine Act of 1950, and from then on, margarine was yellow.  I wasn't quite six years old when that happened, but I surely do recall my mom kneading the color into the margarine.  Click HERE for the history of margarine.  

When most of the people I knew did not have running water.  We took a bucket to the pump out back, pumped away until the bucket was full, and carried it into the house.  There was a dipper in the bucket, and anybody who wanted a drink of water used the dipper.  Germs?  I suppose so, but we didn't worry about them.  We had a toilet in the back yard.  If nature called in the middle of the night, you went outside to the dark toilet to do your business.  Unless it was winter, and then you used the chamber pot under the bed.  

When everybody knew their neighbors.  

When nobody had TV sets.  

When even the WORST-behaved children wouldn't have used the F-word, except maybe for little boys, when no girls or grownups were around.

When teachers were allowed to discipline students.  

When one of the games we kids liked to play was "church".  Pretend games were very popular back then. 

When children played outside, summer or winter.  How many kids do you see playing outdoors these days?  

I remember fireflies and Junebugs.

Back in the fifties, I didn't know anything about politics.  I felt safe in the arms of my family and my neighbors, even when mile-long Army convoys headed up 69 highway during the Korean conflict.  I didn't know  politicians were crooked.  It was wonderful to be a kid.  

Folks, I have little hope for our country.  Both parties are rotten to the core.  The elected officials are only worried about what they can get while they are in office.  I give up.  I'm tired of it, and I'm tired of hearing know-it-all Democrats and know-it-all Republicans acting like their parties are going to be our salvation.  

The good news is that we are only pilgrims and strangers here.  Look up, for our redemption draweth nigh.  (Luke chapter 22)