I Was One Sick Puppy

As a child, I spent a LOT of time in at the doctors'. I was having repeated bladder infections, or Urinary Tract Infections (UTI). I don't remember why, but when i was about 7 I was lying on a table, surrounded by people in green. My mom and Aunt Mickey (nickname for Mildred) awaited outside.

The room was dark and their a screen lit up to my left. There were machines everywhere and people trotting about doing various things. They put something on me and in me. It burned so bad that I screamed bloody murder almost the entire time.

Later, when I was older, Mom said they could hear me in the waiting area and she cried. A woman tried to talk to me about my extensive Barbie collection. I wasn't having it at first but after what felt like hours and hours the pain wasn't so bad. I told her about the Barbie house that my dad built just for me with his own two hands. He even picked out carpeting for the house that was called Bubble Gum Pink carpet.

When they were done, the people in green sent me to the restroom and when I stood up, it appeared that I was bleeding horribly from, you know, down there. I started to cry and really freak out. There was blood everywhere! I just dripped out of me like it was nothing.

"Oh! It's ok!" one lady said. "Honey, it's just soap, that's all!" I suppose it was something like Betadine to keep everything there sterile. Though at the moment, I didn't know what Betadine was. All I knew was that this brown "soap" trailed behind me with every step to the restroom. And I was still a little freaked out about it.

Previously, I'd had what I like to call My Month of Sick. I came down with the Chicken Pox and Mom had taped gloves to my hands. Always a stubborn creature, I found ways to scratch myself and I have the scars to prove it.

I came down with Hepatitis. Not the sexually transmitted kind; I caught it from drinking after a kid at school. My skin was yellow and the whites of my eyes were yellow. I remember Mom freaking out about it. All I remember was that I threw up everywhere at all times.

I've been constipated ever since.

Soon after that bought cleared up, I got what they called Walking Pneumonia. This was my first taste of Pneumonia it stinks! I had fever and was so tired. I coughed and was given that pink medicine again.

The Pink Stuff. It was supposed to taste like bubble gum but it never did. I bet I had gallons of that stuff as a kid. Even now I recognize things here and there that are similar in smell or taste. It was awful at first, especially since it was so cold from being in the fridge. You get used to it, though. You gotta take your antibiotics!

Throughout all my sicknesses, I had become well acquainted with The Second Floor. This was where the blood lab was located. Every time I heard a nurse mention that floor, I cringed. I hated the elevator and have since developed a fear of them because of it. Even now, I grip the rail till my knuckles turn white. I always expect the cable to snap and send me to my death at the bottom of the building. I always sweat when approaching an elevator.

Even though I hated being constantly prodded and poked and having all those needles in me, I toughened up. It didn't hurt anymore but was always left quite sore afterward. My arms looked like a pin cushion depending on how skilled a nurse I got.

When the brown soap didn't do for my UTIs, I was scheduled for Day Surgery. Not that anyone was going to cut me open or anything, oh no! It was called Exploratory Surgery. I was told they were just going to "look around".

Yeah right.

First thing I asked was if there were going to be any needles involved in this process. I was so sick of needles. The promised me no. They promised!

I was asked if I preferred a mask or an injection for my anesthesia. "Mask! I'll do the mask! They promised no needles!!"

I remember waking up very early and we parked in a special section of the lot that required a code to get in. Very cool. I was lying in a cold room on a high table. People in green were everywhere, scurrying about. A very nice man explained that he would put a mask over my mouth and I'd take a nap so I wouldn't feel anything. He was very kind and asked me about my hobbies and things to take my mind off all this.

He wanted me to breathe deeply and count to 100. 1, 2, 3...The man was still talking but I couldn't understand him, like he was far off. His gentle voice began to trail off as the room closed in around me and went black.

I awoke in the Recovery Room. Mom and Dad were there. Actually, I don't really remember Dad, though I know he was present and accounted for. I sat up, confused.

"I'm gonna throw up!" I shouted, hoarsely. "Whoops!" a nurse said as she reacted with lightning speed. She grabbed a clean bed pan and shoved it under my chin. I barfed up what was left from yesterday's lunch. All of it.

"That happens sometimes!" the nurse said cheerfully. I glanced my arm and noticed an IV stuck in it. It ran to a bottle of fluid held up by a pole.

I started to cry, hard. "They said 'no needles'! They promised! They said NO NEEDLES!"

Now, it probably wouldn't have been so terrifying if they had simply told me about the IV. It was the fact that I was promised "no needles".

The nurse quickly and gently removed the tape and easily slipped the needle out of my vein. She was skilled; rarely was it done to me so gently. I'd love to go back and thank the people who made it easy on me. I'd also like to go back to all those who were nasty or having a bad day; I was just a little kid!

Still messed up from the sleepy time drugs I felt my chest and found these huge, white stickers (for heart monitoring) all over! "What? What's this?" Mom helped me pull them off and it was a good thing the drugs were still affecting me. I think someone stuck those things on with super glue! And there were 4 of them!

I eventually got better as I aged. I still have flash backs of Mom taking stool samples from the toilet. I have a vague memory of me lying on the bed with my butt cheeks clenched so tight a flea couldn't have gotten in there. Mom struggled with this mammoth suppository that was the size of a soda can. She never got it in; it melted before I gave her the chance!

These days I have no problem with needles but long gone are of the days of bruises on my inner arms. If I wasn't a little kid, you might've thought I was on heroin! I do have tiny scars where my arms bends where they took all the blood. They're right above my Chicken Pox scars.