I think I’ve mentioned before that until I was in college, there was no television on the hospital wards. Radios were also very scarce. There were probably several good reasons for this, like the noise they would generate and the difficulty in getting 18 people to agree on a program. But the number one reason, in my opinion, was that reception ranged from extremely poor to nonexistent. Television signals and most AM radio signals were blocked by large structures, and buildings like the Main Hospital made very effective barriers.
There were, of course, those old standbys—reading, sleeping and staring off into space—to get you through the day. They all worked quite well, but the hospital seemed to feel it had an obligation to keep us busy and, possibly, amused.
In the morning after our baths and getting dressed, the doctors made their rounds, the first round of medications and treatments for the day got started, and breakfast trays were passed out, in some approximation of that order. At about the same time, the transporters would start taking in those kids having surgery, X-rays, spinal taps and other “procedures” that morning.
After breakfast, volunteers would take you up to the hospital school if your condition allowed. If you were confined to bed, as I usually was, they would just pile your schoolbooks on the foot of the bed and take you up in your bed. If you were a bit too sick to leave the ward, a teacher came down to you. There was no escape. Naturally, if you were in a coma or in surgery or something equally disruptive, they would consider excusing you for the day.
School lasted from 9 a.m. to just before noon. The volunteers would bring you back to the ward, and you’d usually have just enough time to put your books away before lunch was brought in. After lunch, there was Quiet Time. We were, of course, much too mature to take a nap, but everybody had to be in bed reading or doing some other quiet activity. Doing our homework for school was greatly encouraged. Talking, while not strictly forbidden, was not.
If You Build It …
Quiet Time lasted until 1:30. Then began a little period of activity as afternoon meds were given and some kids departed for X-ray, physical therapy or surgery. A little before 2, the volunteers returned to take up to the Recreation Room those kids who could go. The Recreation Room was a little like my junior high school wood shop. There were some power tools along one wall and several large, square wooden workbenches. There was also, for reasons I never knew, a large, wooden airplane propeller over the door that opened onto the sun deck.
A lot of small crafts were done there. On any given weekday afternoon, kids in beds, stretchers and wheelchairs, and even a few who could walk, were working diligently on some kind of project. I made a coin purse for Dad, and he carried it for 50-some years until he died. It now sits on the bookcase next to me as I type this.
I made a small ceramic tray for Mom. It had a little nebbish character I had made up on it and the caption “THINK.” A couple years ago I had to pick up some items for her while she was in the hospital, and the tray was under her pajamas. And over the years I must have made hundreds of key chains, belts, placemats, bolo ties, greeting cards, necklaces, pot holders and wallets.
The volunteers got us back to the ward at about a quarter to five, and visitors would start trickling in. I think visiting hours started around 2 p.m., but most parents came after the father and/or mother got off work. A lot of kids only had visitors on the weekend because their home was so far away from the hospital. You could always tell whose parents had come on the ward by who suddenly started acting sick.
Dessert Treats and Comic Books
Dinner was at about 5:30, and visiting hours lasted, I think, until 7. One of the biggest treats you could get was to be allowed to have your parents take you down to the cafeteria for dessert. For some inexplicable reason, the cafeteria made some of the best ice cream sundaes and sodas around. Perhaps it was just being off the ward that made them so good. Whatever the cause, I loved their strawberry sodas.
Usually, on the way to the elevator after leaving the cafeteria, Dad would push my wheelchair to the magazine stand to pick out a few comic books and, if Mom was distracted, Mad. The stand was a tiny alcove that sold newspapers and magazines (naturally), some paperback novels, a few snacks and lots and lots of cigarettes. How times have changed.
After the visitors left, it was time for our evening snack. Some people actually got a small sandwich or a bowl of custard, but for most of us it was a couple of graham crackers and a glass of juice or, on festive occasions, ginger ale. This evening snack was very important, and if they were out of apricot nectar I would be very upset. And finally, around 8:30, the overhead lights would be turned off. Older kids were allowed to keep their reading lights on a bit longer, but by 9:30 just about everyone would be asleep. Those were busy days.
Read more Guy Boss at the Missing Factor.