Sick Days

So many people are taking sick days lately. It seems everyone is sick - or was sick - or thinks they are getting sick. I'm hearing of them from all over the country. I blame it on the weird weather. A few days of warmth and sunshine, followed by a deep freeze for a while, then back again. Maybe if it stays really cold for a while, all will be well again.


Oddly enough, when I think of times that I was sick as a child, they are mostly good memories. I know that sounds strange, but I really don't remember many bad times, except that one Christmas when I was too sick to care about gifts under the tree. I'm sure there must have been days when I felt terrible, but I don't remember them.


I had all of the usual childhood diseases of the day: measles, mumps, chicken pox, whooping cough. Didn't miss a one. And I would be put into bed for the duration. But what I remember of that is cool, crisp, clean sheets that felt so good, and pillows to prop me up. And little meals on a bed tray. My mother would always make me Junket custard, which I loved. And she would give me Saltines with currant jelly on them - another favorite. She would tell me that jelly was made with pectin, and that would settle the stomach.


The family doctor would be called to come out. I loved him. He looked as if he'd just stepped out of a Norman Rockwell painting. He would sit by my bed and poke and prod a little, and maybe tickle me, listen intently with his stethoscope and take my temperature. No matter what else he prescribed, no matter what was wrong with me, before he left he would reach down into his bag, and produce a vial of his famous pink pills. He would shake a few into my hand. They were delicious! And they never failed to make me feel better. Just as my mother believed in pectin, the doctor believed in potato soup. It was a little routine. He would tell my mother to make me potato soup, she would tell him I didn't like it, and he would then tell her to make me mashed potatoes.


In those days, all of the aforementioned childhood diseases also required quarantine, with the Health Department plastering a warning on the front door.


For as long as I was required to remain in bed, it also meant a series of small gifts brought to me by various family members. My favorite was paper dolls. I had many, many sets of paper dolls, including Shirley Temple. A few years later (I think it was when I had measles) the big hit was Gone With the Wind. Of course, I knew nothing of the book at that time, but the movie had just come out. There were so many characters in that story, and so many clothes - hoop skirts and parasols.


Some times my sister would help me make my own paper dolls and tons of clothes to be put on with those little paper tabs. Drawing them and coloring and cutting out whiled away many hours in bed.


My other favorite occupation while sick, was the picture box. Mother never had photo albums, but she had dozens of photographs, kept in a large dress box. Some were from her childhood, some from her courting days with my father and their friends and his family. And of course there were our own family photos. I would ask about the people I didn't know, but I could never keep them straight in my mind. My Grandmother had died when my mother was 18 months old, and Grandfather traveled with a vaudevillian quartet, so she was raised by a foster family. She made no distinction when talking about brothers or sistes, or even cousins, and I could never figure out which were "real" relatives and which from the foster family. And as for my father, he was one of nine children. Several had died, so I never had met them. My confusion about relationships didn't bother me until much later, when I was trying to make a family tree.


While recuperating, I enjoyed many hours with that picture box and my paper dolls and my books. It was really very pleasant. Children today do not have so many of these illnesses, thank goodness. When they do have colds or flu, are they kept in bed for long periods of time? I don't think so. I do know that their doctors don't make house calls any more. I guess they never get to know the pleasure of those magic pink pills.







The photos are of my grandmother, my brother and sister in the 20's, and of my brother, sister, and me in the 30's.
Rockwell painting courtesy of Google.

Speaking of old photos - Did you see Villas Girl's pictures yesterday?