Memoirs of a Former Peds Patient

The last time I was a patient in a hospital (other than for dental day surgery) I was five years old. I was hospitalized twice between the ages of four and five, once for a tonsillectomy and once for scarlet fever. Of course, this was the early 1970s – the days when one was actually hospitalized for a tonsillectomy, not sent home the same day.

The strange sounds, lights, faces, places, and procedures – and the absence of a mother 24/7 – frightens many children. But I thought I had died and gone to heaven.

I am the middle of three children, with an older and a younger brother. At the time of my hospitalizations, my younger brother was a baby. And, in my mind, I was lacking for attention and – to use a modern term – personal space. I was sharing a bedroom and sharing toys. And there was stiff competition for the television amongst those higher up on the household totem pole. On top of all this, Mom had an annoying habit of (usually) feeding us healthy food.

So first, the tonsils. I was in a room for two with a television. Not only were the odds better than one in five, but my roommate had severe cerebral palsy and, to all indications, had no particular interest in any channel – the TV was mine! Then there was the food – since my roommate was not post-tonsillectomy like me, she was forced to eat objectionable (in my mind) items like green beans, while I got to feast on ice cream, pudding, and Jell-O. What's more, since I wasn't "sick," there was a playroom full of new and different toys to enjoy and, best of all, little competition for them. I had regular attention from the nice nurses and regular visits from Mom, during which I had her undivided attention. And, daily, I got new hospital-issue red or pink polka-dotted flannel pajamas, which I thought were the greatest things. Yes, there was a bit of pain, but I'd been dealing with that from the sore throats that prompted the surgery anyway, so the good clearly outweighed the bad.

My next hospitalization was even better! Since I had scarlet fever I was in isolation, which meant I had my own room and my own TV. What normal middle class child could claim such a boon in the 1970s? Because I was feverish, I was given lots of liquids and ice cream to help keep me cool. Although I wasn't allowed to go to the playroom, some choice items were brought to my room for my exclusive use. Again, I had the great pajamas, regular visits from the nice nurses, and private visits with mom.

I can only hope that if I ever am hospitalized again, I'll be equally thrilled.

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