One summer, I had my tonsils out when I was around 7 or 8. Too many sore throats. I know it’s unheard of today, but–my mother stayed in the same room with me. She was having some tests before she had her hysterectomy.
In the sixties, they used ether to knock you out. It was a hallucinogenic. Later, when teachers were warning us about LSD and other vile evil drugs that would ruin your life and send your parents to hell, the effects of LSD reminded me of my ether trip.
Colors whirling, twisting, writhing, The colors almost seemed to talk, making unearthly noises–crackling and howling. My sense of identity was gone–it was like I was this brain or soul adrift in a sea of blinding lights. No way out but I couldn’t cry or even yell. Eventually, I had to let go and drift, and somehow know that I was not dead. After countless minutes or hours (time stopped for a lifetime), the colors faded and I woke instantly alert.
The other kids in the room were out cold (did they have a $5.99 special that day for tonsillectomies?), but this boy howled like a wounded wolf, demanding to be returned to my room. Nurse asked me why I couldn’t lay nice like the other children.
I should have said “fuck them!” But I said “I don’t care about them; I care about me. I’m awake, take me back.” I guess they figured they had to silence this agent provocateur, as I was soon back in my bed, placing my order for ice cream, as much as I wanted.
Mom soon checked in, so we were a happy pair. Cocksucker daddy was nowhere in sight, he had to work. Fine with me.
With the setting of the sun comes the comedy of the absurd. I got ice bags (in canvas, plastic bags weren’t in use medically) to ease swelling and pain. After a few hours in slumberland, I wake up soaked, sheets are heavy and sloppy. Leaking icebag–nothing left in it. Mom calls the nurse–strip the bed, wipe the mattress, dry me off, I eat ice cream, fresh sheets, back to bed, new ice pack.
Like any kid, I had my talisman–a Stieff stuffed walrus I got from a high-end toy store in Atlantic City. Well, a few hours later, I wake up soaking wet, wearing grit from crotch to nose. The icepack was leaking, and the walrus leaked from a flipper. Strip the bed, shower me off, wipe the mattress, dry me off, put a bandage on the walrus, I eat ice cream, fresh sheets, back to bed, new ice pack.
Third time the charm, right?
Ha!
This time, on mom’s bed next to me (below), she is awakened by rain on her face. It ain’t rain………..the ice bag is leaking and the sodden sheets on the side of the bed are dripping water gently on her bed and face. Now she wakes me up. Strip the bed (empty the linen depository as the lid won’t close), dry me off, strip my mother’s bed, dry both mattresses, no ice cream (by now they don’t even offer), both of us back to bed and thankfully I squeeze out some good hours of deep sleep with an ice pack that stays intact.