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. 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 winced. 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 nervous 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 have a nightmare? It seemed as if loose rubber bands were holding my head on the pillow. My eyes didn’t want to stay open.

A nurse walked up to my bedside, “You’re waking up,” she said. “Good. Would you like a drink of water?”

I tried to answer her but my words ran into each other. “Yeah..irsty..elomb ” came out of my mouth. I tried again. “Yeah. I’m thirsty. Where’s Doctor Delomb?”

“Here he comes, now,” she said and as she handed me a small plastic cup of water.

I frowned at him. “You weren’t there,” I said. “I called you like you told me to.”

“Oh, I was there alright. You have powerful lungs. I was washing my hands and putting on my mask when you came into surgery. You fought hard with the nurses.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You said you would help me. Why didn’t you. The nurses were being mean.”

Dr. Delomb smiled and patted my head. “You were scared. They weren’t being mean, not really.”

“Yes, they were! They jumped on top of me and pulled my hands all the way to my feet.”

He started to laugh. “Is that what you thought?” He turned to the nurse who brought me the water. His shoulders were shaking. When he stopped shaking, he turned back to me. “I’ll have a talk with that nurse and tell her to apologize. OK?”

I nodded.