Hey everybody, this is getting better and better. Just want to remind everybody that when you are finished writing your post or page, be sure to not only save, but to also click on the publish button over beside the save button to the right of the post box. This makes it show up on the blog when you write it.
Otherwise it shows the post as being written when I actually go in and check. Also, feel free to put your categories and tags so everything is easily found.
Back in the old days…I tried to talk w/Diane Beverly about my horrid disease…(she was 2 yrs older), but it just didn’t register, I needed more information.
When I was just 9 yrs old I thought I had an incurable disease and was dying. I recall telling Mom and then Shirley came to the “rescue”. (Myrtle was attending nursing school at Bethesda, so Shirley was on duty.) I was absolutley mortified when she showed me a diaper strung up by a rubberband! I was supposed to be cured by this contraption?! Needless to say I finally got the picture and survived.
These weren’t the best days for me, but I still remember. Shirley and I were birth coaches. We were called early in the morning and went to see what was up. Martha was actually working and exercising in early stages of labor. Shirley, Ricky, and I went to the hospital and everything went very quickly. Never having kids, I was just amazed. Martha was sort of OK and then came “transition”…literally! I saw Martha’s face turn shades of purple I’d never seen before. Then at the last part of the birth process, there was a turd that plopped on the doctor’s shoes, then Marnee was born. It sounds weird, but it really was beautiful. Ricky took Shirley and me to his house, but stopped on the way and bought each of us a rose. I don’t know how Martha felt, but I was exhausted.
I came home from school just in the first grade to discover that Martha had chicken pox…10 days later so did I.
My first experience with “pot” and Martha, As kids do instead of playing w/toys, we were playing w/a big soup pot. I promised Martha I’d give her a turn when I was finished, running and sitting in the pot. I took a longer turn than Martha wanted, so she hurls a rock at me which landed sort of between my eyes. I have a hint of the scar today, fifty years now.
Well into my teen years, I was afraid of the dark. Even as late as the Cornstalk Rd house I remember leaving my bed and getting into bed w/Martha. She hated that and but always gave in (even after I layed in the floor for a bit).
Given the fact that I was once afraid of the dark, it is hard to believe I now live totally alone and go outside in the dark without a thought…what was I thinking?! There usually aren’t any boogie men in the dark. I’ve discovered most of the bad men in the clear blue daylight!
