Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri
Katy is represented by
Greg Johnson at
WordServe Literary
Read more Katy at
LateBoomer.net
Recent Posts
- Try
- Becoming Brenda Starr
- Off Beat
- Scattered
- That’s It
- So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What?
- The Spoon
- Sciatica
- Sweetheart
- A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose
- However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time
- After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices.
- As with everything in life, balance is key.
- Slow down, you move too fast…
- Yeah, I know. I have issues.
Syndicate
E me at katy @ ngenius.com
My Scariest Halloween
You might think it’s weird that I celebrate the 30th anniversary of my first major surgery, but that’s the kind of girl I am.
On Halloween in 1977, the year we got married, I had an operation to remove cysts from both ovaries, and to take out my appendix, just in case. As it turned out, that darned appendix was about to burst, and was most likely the cause of all my pre-operative pain.
I was in the hospital for a full week (we’re talking the good old days) and several goofy things were said and done during those seven days. Why I can recall them all with utter clarity, I don’t know, but I can.
As I came to after surgery, my mother was on hand, holding a cup of chipped ice, a commodity every post-surgery patient craves.
“Would you like some ice?” she asked, trying to be helpful and kind. The thing is, back in 1977, the two most popular colors for appliances and carpet and, by extension, hospital paraphernalia, were harvest gold and avacado green. The cup of ice my mother held in her hand happened to be harvest gold.
“NO!” I said with more emphasis than a skinny girl should have been allowed to have. “Those are Dorritos and that’s fattening!”
If only I’d held on to my early leanings toward low-carb, I could have saved myself years of heartache (and expansive rear end), but no….
Later that day, I told my dear mother, in a fit of profundity, that I had “something of extreme relevance to share.” Those are the exact words I said, people! What kind of chick says stuff like that? Of course, you need to understand, in case you’ve never gone under the knife, that anesthesia can make you feel WAY more relevant than you really are.
“OK,” my mother said, very willing to hear me out, the poor thing. “What is it?”
The next sound she heard out of my mouth was profound snoring.
That first night after surgery, on Halloween, the RN instructed me about how I was to behave in order to prevent pneumonia from setting in.
“Every time you wake up,” she said, “take ten deep breaths in and out.”
I’m such a conscientious girl, I did exactly as she directed. The thing was, I woke up every sixty seconds all night long, and obediently did my ten breaths, which took me at least 30 seconds. Needless to say, I didn’t get pneumonia. But I didn’t get any rest, either.
Those are my spooky Halloween remembrances. Got any you want to share?
- Hey, I got pregnant on Halloween...that can be spooky... :)
Posted by Bridget on 11/14/07 at 12:54 PM
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