Surgery at Age Five
I lay on an exam table in Dr. Delomb’s office with my pants
and underwear at my ankles. I wasn’t embarrassed. I was only five years old. The
doctor had a warm and friendly face. I liked him. He told me that he would be waiting
for me at the hospital in a week to fix that little bump in my groin.
“If you have any problems, just call me,” he said. “Do you
remember my name?”
“Yes! Doctor Delomb!” I said and gave him a big proud smile.
My parents took me to Presbyterian Hospital in Albuquerque the night before my hernia repair surgery when I was five years old. They let me lie in the car’s back window and look at the stars as we drove away from our house.
“You’ll sleep at the
hospital tonight with some other boys,” my mother said as my father drove into
the parking lot.
I clenched my teeth. My legs wanted to run home.I held my mother’s hand tightly as we walked into the
children’s ward. The smell of alcohol assaulted my nose.
A nurse escorted us to
a bed at one end of the ward. She made me take all of my clothes off. She gave
them to my mom. Then the nurse wrapped me in a white sheet that had a string
at the top to tie around my neck. My back and butt were exposed. I didn’t like
that.
My mother smiled that impish smile of hers. “I think they
took away your clothes so that you won’t run away,” she said. “You can’t run
naked down the streets of Albuquerque.”
My parents kissed me goodbye and left. My heart sunk. I
looked around. There were four other beds with a boy in each one. Our beds were
along the window wall. All of the other boys wore sheets too. Each of the boys
had at least one tube sticking in his arm. The boy at the end of the ward cried,
while the boy next to him kept saying, “You’ll be all right. Your momma’ll come
back tomorrow. You’ll be all right.”
I wanted to cry too. But I wasn’t going to in front of other
boys. It didn’t take long for a nurse to show up with a metal tray of syringes
and tubes. My lips began to tremble. I didn’t want to get a shot.
“I didn’t cry when they gave me a shot and stuck that tube
in my arm,” the boy next to me said.
I turned away from looking at the syringes and gazed at him.
He waved his free hand and pointed to the tube in his other arm. “It doesn’t
hurt. See?” he said with a smile.
I forced a smile back and held my breath as I watched the
nurse give me a shot and then insert the needle into my arm. I winched. A tear
drop slid down my cheek.
“You’re a brave boy,” the nurse said as she taped the tube
to my arm.
“Let me see!” yelled the boy who had shown me his arm. “It
didn’t hurt that bad, did it!”
Time passed quickly with the nurses coming in and out of the
ward. A nurse stood by the door. “It’s time to go to sleep, boys,” she said.
“I’m going to turn out the lights. I will be right around the corner, if you
need me. Just call and don’t get out of bed.”
The overhead white ball lights went out, but the room did
not go dark. I could make out the shadows of the boy next to me. I could hear
him whimpering. I wanted to cry too.
*******
“Are you awake?” asked a nurse. I opened my eyes. The
morning sun shone through the window at the east end of the ward. The nurse
pulled away my gown and gave me a funny looking metal pitcher. “Go ahead and
pee into it.”
I blinked and covered my penis with my free hand. The nurse
smiled. “You don’t need to be embarrassed. I’ve seen lots of boys. I’ll turn
the other way, if you want.”
I nodded. She turned around. I put the urinal between my
legs, aimed and peed. This is fun, I
thought. She must have heard when I finished because she turned around, took
the pitcher from my hand and covered me back up again. She took the pitcher
into the hallway and came back into the ward. She picked me up and placed me on
a gurney. “They’re ready for you. I’m going to give you a ride down to the
surgery suite.” She smiled. I wanted to smile back, but the vibration in my
stomach distracted me.
“You just lie there and enjoy the ride,” the nurse said as
she wheeled me out of the children’s ward, down the white walled hallway and into
the elevator. My legs started to twitch. The elevator doors closed with a bang. I jumped and picked my head up. “It’s just
that old elevator door,” she said.
I wanted my mother. The nurse stroked my
head. “We’re almost there,” she said when the elevator stopped. The doors
opened and she pushed the gurney out.
“Where is Doctor Delomb?” I asked. During our last visit to
the doctor’s office he had told me that we would be waiting for me at the
hospital. My stomach muscles tightened. I strained to look behind me, at the
elevator door. We went around a corner. I took a deep breath. Looking toward my
feet, I saw the surgery room doors open. The smell of alcohol and medicine grew
stronger. I turned back to look back down the hallway. We passed into the
surgery room and its doors closed. “Where is Doctor DeLomb?” I asked again. My
tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I screamed, “Doctor DeLomb!!!” I begged
for a familiar face, as they wheeled me into the operating room. I wanted to
jump from my gurney and get out of there. The big lights, the smell of alcohol
and medicines, the tubes and trays, the tile floors and the nurses were all too
much. The nurses in white uniforms and white hats were all strangers and scary.
I kept screaming, "Doctor DeLomb!!!! Doctor DeLomb!!!! Doctor DeLomb!!!!" over and over again. Where is he?
Two nurses picked me up and put me on the operating table. I struggled to break loose.
I screamed louder. "Doctor DeLomb!!!!” Why isn’t he here? “Doctor DeLomb!!!!
Doctor DeLomb!!!!"
One of the nurses got up on the operating table, straddled
me and held my arms down.
"Doctor DeLomb!!!! Doctor DeLomb!!!! Doctor DeLomb!!!!" I continued screaming.
The nurse at my head tried to suffocate me by putting a rubbery
thing over my nose and mouth. I couldn't breathe. The rubbery thing smelled
horrible. I tried to fight my way off the gurney. Dr. DeLomb told me he would make sure everything would be OK. But he’s
not here. My throat felt dry and raw. I screamed, “Doctor DeLomb!!!!”
The nurse that was on top of me took hold of my wrists and
climbed off of the operating table at my feet. She stretched my arms all the
way down to my ankles. I desperately needed air. One last time I yelled, but it
came out of my mouth in slow motion "Daaactor Deeee Laaaaahmmmmmmm"
*******
I found myself back in the children’s ward. Did I just wake up from a nightmare?
My head felt heavy. A nurse walked up to my bedside, holding a metal tray that
had a bicycle tube with a big needle sticking out of it. She was going to stick
the needle into my penis. My eyes grew as big as my baseballs. I stopped breathing.
"Are you, Peterson?” she asked. “Chuck Peterson?"
"No, No. I'm Montoya, not Peterson."
She looked at my chart at the end of my bed. "Oh, I'm
sorry I scared you. Peterson must be the boy at the other end of the
ward."
She walked away and I started breathing normally again.
I’m glad I’m not
getting that shot, I thought. But where is Dr. Delomb?
