Health Care- 1940s Style
By Phil Palladino
2/3/09
I only knew for sure that my throat hurt and I couldn't talk. A mere whisper was all I could muster.
It was very dark in that hospital ward that night when I was so young. I just had a tonsillectomy. My brother George lay in a bed on the other side of the partition, and somewhere around Mary also was lying vanquished and silenced by the surgeon's scalpel.
Dad had a deal from Dr. John Sulzman to have the tonsils removed from the three of us on the same day. It was a group rate, maybe $100 a head, or buy two get one free. We got time off from school, plenty of ice cream, and GINGER ALE!
For me to count to 10 as the ether was administered was easy. I got to 1. George created a scene. Not only did he count much higher, but he woke up in the middle of the operation and "stabbed" the doctor.
Back in the ward, we recovered, but not enough to eat or drink much before it was night. Thirst throttled both George and me. As the night grew darker, George called for water. The smiling, prompt, night nurse brought the water, and George was happy. I lay on the other side of the partition, maybe five feet away, sore, thirsty, unable to make a sound.
After what seemed like forever, George called again. The patient nurse responded again with a hint of cheer. George enjoyed his second glass of water, while I lay there, frustrated, speechless, crying, thirsty, and frightened.
The darkness wore on. My throat was healing, but not enough. George sent out his call again. "What do you want now, George?" demanded the tired, impatient night nurse. "Water!" he replied.
While the nurse was fetching that third glass of water, I got my voice back enough for a raspy whisper: "George…tell her…I need a… glass of water, too."
The nurse returned with the water for George, and he politely informed her, "My brother needs a glass of water too." And that long suffering nurse, so dedicated to the children of Troy, immediately turned on her heel, headed to the door and announced, "He will have to wait until morning, I'm tired!"
And I curled up, cried, swallowing dryly and kept waiting and waiting.
The next day was brighter with ice cream and ginger ale to sooth my throat, but the memories of that long frightful night still linger.
