A couple days after my encounter with the dead animal carcass, I woke up not feeling well. By the middle of the day, I was throwing up and just looked horrible. My mom helped me get dressed and then took me to the doctor’s office. After the doctor looked me over, he recommended that I get a penicillin shot. She agreed. A few minutes later the doctor came towards me with the exposed needle. I screamed “NO, NO, I HATE SHOTS, PLEASE NO”. But that did not stop that needle from piercing my skin and inflicting the pain I feared.
The deed was done, and it was now time to go home. My arm was really hurting.
That evening, I was still not feeling well. My mom did everything she could to help me feel better. Later that night I began to develop an increasing fever. I wasn’t feeling any better and I knew I was not going to have a good night. Throughout the night I just got sicker.
The next morning my mom took me back to the doctor’s office. I was still getting sicker. I had a higher fever now and had become very lethargic. The doctor looked at me and told my mom to take me to the hospital. He told her she needed to take me as quickly as possible. He could have called for an ambulance but that would have taken longer than driving directly to the hospital. And I remember the doctor’s office wasn’t too far from the hospital.
We left the office, and I could tell that my mom was worried. From what I remember, the doctor didn’t give her a reason why I needed to go to the hospital so quickly. My mom put me in the car, and we went directly to the hospital as quickly as she could drive.
Once we arrived, I was taken back to a room where several doctors and nurses were waiting for me. The doctor who had just seen me had called the hospital to let them know that I was on my way. For me, I was now familiar with what a hospital looked like inside. However, this time I had no visible injuries. This time the injury was inside me.
I had not told my mom about picking up the dead animal carcass the day after the Fourth of July. I just didn’t think that it was that important. Maybe I should have. I did tell the doctor when I was in the hospital, and he was asking me questions about anything that was unusual. I could swear that his facial expression became changed, and he looked uneasy. My mom heard what I told the doctor, and she became red faced.
While in the room I remember the nurse taking blood from my arm, the one that wasn’t injured a couple of years ago. I didn’t care. I felt horrible and wished that I could feel better. And I had to lay in the bed for some time after my blood was taken before a doctor came back to talk with my mom. The doctor said that I was going to be admitted and that I was being put into quarantine. The doctor was concerned that I was contagious after what I had told him.
When my mom told me that I was going to have to stay in the hospital for a few days I thought to myself that my summer fun was again interrupted. And I was concerned that more bad news would be coming. That was how my summers had been since moving to Las Vegas. I felt like I couldn’t have a normal summer anymore.
I was then moved to a room where there was another bed. It was a shared room. I thought to myself that someone else would be in the room so I would have someone to talk with. I was hopeful. I didn’t fully understand what quarantine meant.
Once I was positioned in my bed in the room, they began to remove the other bed, the chair next to it, and some other stuff. They stripped the room bare except for only things that I would need. At least I was by the window and had a view to the outside.
A nurse came in to talk to me about what being in quarantine meant, and that only my mom could see me for little bits of time. As the description of quarantine was being explained to me in more detail and the restrictions I was now under, I became upset. I said “Damn” out loud. This was one of the new words I had picked up from my friends when we hung out at the creek.
From this day forward until I left the hospital what I remember was that any person from the hospital that came into the room kept their distance from me unless they were wearing a mask and a gown. I was feeling alone. My mom could visit but she could not be near me and had to wear a mask too.
After a few days in the hospital the doctor and my mom came into the room together. The doctor and my mom came over to my bed and proceeded to tell me what I was sick with. I learned that I had contracted Mononucleosis and had been infected with Hepatitis B. The doctor also told me that I had an adverse reaction to the penicillin that I had received. This was a triple whammy to my body.
For the rest of my hospital stay I was put on a very restrictive diet to help combat the Hepatitis B infection and I would need to stay in the hospital for about a week or so. I was also told that I would be in quarantine for the next two months. This meant that I could go home in a week, but I could not leave my room until I was done with quarantine. I could not go outside and play. I could not ride my bike on the desert trails. And I would miss the first two weeks of Junior High School.
Damn was the thought that came into my mind again. Now I truly understood that my summer had been stolen from me again. I was now hating that we moved here. And then I remembered that I never had a full summer in Phoenix either. I felt cursed. Maybe it was a desert curse.
When I was discharged to go home my mom arranged for my friends to visit me from outside my bedroom window. My dad had removed the bush that was in front of my window, and he put a bench there so my friends could sit and talk with me.
For the next two months all my food would be brought to my bedroom. Fortunately, the bathroom was right across the hall so I could move quickly between my room and the bathroom. This was the second worst summer of my life.
My mom had bought a variety of toys to keep me busy while I was in my room under quarantine. And remember that Encyclopedia Brittanica set I was going to get. Well, I did get it. And I used them for a BB stop. Yes, I was so bored that I would set the army soldiers up on the bookshelf, which was part of the hutch piece, and shoot at them with my BB Gun. I did this when no one was around.
This year, once again, I really didn’t have a birthday party. My party this year was comprised of my friends standing outside my bedroom window singing happy birthday while I was on the other side of the glass window looking out trying to be happy, but I was very sad. I would cry later when no one was around. Another summer has come, and another birthday celebration has been stolen from me. Once again, I told myself that maybe next year will be better and I will have a party. Birthday parties had become very important to me.
One week after the new school year had started, I was released from quarantine, but I was not ready to go to school yet. I needed a week just to get ready. And I knew that my friends who had already started the new school year would come to see me and to tell me about what I should get ready to experience.
When I did make it to school, I felt like a new student starting during the middle of the school year since I didn’t go to school until after the second week was over. So, I was already two weeks behind. I did get a lot of support my first day walking the hallways and finding my classes. I was happy that the teachers would work with me to get me caught up with my friend’s. It seemed like everyone knew what I had just been through.
And on my first day back at school, my mom wanted to surprise me when I came home from school by cleaning and reorganizing my room. When my mom was moving the encyclopedia books around, she discovered all the damage I had done to the book covers from shooting at the toy soldiers with my BB Gun. Let’s just say she was not happy, but to my surprise she wasn’t overly furious. Although I did get into big trouble because of shooting my BB Gun in the house. I was happy because there was leniency given based on the last couple of months.
But I knew for now, I need to focus on getting back into a new school routine. My summer tan was now absent. My face had begun to change even more. I had lost weight. I felt like a different boy. I felt ugly. And Junior High School can be challenging even when you feel good and look your best.
So, for the last three summers, and at such a young age, I almost lost my left arm, developed pneumonia, and somehow contracted Hepatitis B which will now be with me for life. I do hope next summer is better than my last three summers. My wish now is for one good, full summer being healthy and having lots of fun with my friends.
And I now hoped that the summer of nineteen sixty-eight, when I turn thirteen, will be that summer.
Please, please let it be…
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