For
children living in the 1950s, tonsillectomies were popular and
considered a rite of passage. I had my tonsillectomy when I was 4
years old; it is my first truly clear childhood memory—not the
fun kind of memory—but a distinct recollection of childhood
fear fueled by my imagination.
We
lived in Garland, Texas, a town with no doctors’ offices.
Seeing our pediatrician meant driving into Dallas on the only road
connecting Garland to Dallas—a two-beam, rickety wooden bridge
spanning Duck Creek. On the day of the surgery, Mother approached the
bridge and slowed the car. I cringed, squeezing my eyes shut,
convinced we’d careen off the narrow beams and plunge to our
deaths in the murky waters below. Mother successfully navigated the
bridge, and we arrived safely at the clinic where Dr. Tittle greeted
us. The fear I had for the bridge was mild compared to the anxiety I
had about seeing Dr. Tittle—a tall doctor wearing his long,
clean, crisply starched white coat. He approached me taking my hand
in his and escorting me inside to his small pediatric surgery room.
“I
know you’re nervous, little one. We’re in this together;
I’ll take good care of you.” But I wasn’t fooled.
No siree. I frowned at him; for in my mind, Dr. Tittle was a
white-robed ogre cleverly disguised as a kind doctor.
His
nurse prepped me for surgery telling me, “Dr. Tittle will put
you to sleep; you’ll wake up not remembering anything. It’s
important to lie perfectly still. Can you do that?” she asked
before wheeling me into the surgical center.
I
nodded, ‘yes’ and remained still despite the cold air
blowing over me and the bright lights
blinding me. I recall the strange smell of antiseptic, the sweet
smell of ether, and the blurry figures moving around. The last thing
I remember was seeing the tray of metal surgical instruments that, in
my child’s mind, looked like torture devices I’d seen in
horror movies. Then I was gone. I awoke in the recovery room having
no memory of the tonsillectomy itself.
My fear
and anxiety soon dissipated, soothed by the comforting chocolate ice
cream Mother served me at home afterwards.
