She was born with a bit of uniqueness, some thought enchanting…but all knew of her acute sensitivity. Quietly observing, painfully shy until high school where she flourished. She was amazed when a classmate told her at the 25th reunion, he always thought she marched to the song of a different drummer. She knew, but unaware others noticed. She was fortunate to have friends who appreciated her cadence. She loved singing as a child, and any animal she could hug or kiss, even a goldfish. She gave personalities to inanimate objects, and thought she heard grass cried when mowed. Her singing concerts were once a week, lining up every stuffed animal to attend, and of course she knew they enjoyed. When she was about six years old, the doctor told her mom to bring her to the office for a visit, knowing it wasn’t routine, under the pretense she would sing for him. Mothers didn’t question the validity of doctors opinions in “those days.” So, off they went to the doctor, her music folder in hand. She was so excited to sing Poor Buttercup. She knew many Gilbert and Sullivan songs. She remembers vividly all the details of that day. She opened her lips to sing, and the doctor clamping something on her mouth. She remembers screaming, and he told her to keep screaming mother to keep her mouth opened. Her tonsils, and so much more were cut that day in that office. She later found out, she was not alone with her nightmare.. Many children in “those days” had very much the same experience, but this little one was shattered by the trauma, and carried fear of doctors her entire life. Her singing was silenced. When the school doctor arrived once a year, she would hide, and the teachers had to go find her. When she was in her 30’s, she was at a party, and during a social conversation with a child psychiatrist, she told him her story. “How you grew up not hating your mother is a miracle.” Seems you transferred all your fears and mistrust to physicians. “I don’t know, she replied. I guess I just thought she was following doctors orders, at that time.” Years later, at a weekend writing workshop at Skidmore, an exercise was to bring in a childhood photo of yourself. Told to look at the photo, and say the first words that come to mind. “I wish I could have been your mother, she said softly, I would have recognized you.”
Comments on: "Screams of a Child 1941/Fears of a Woman, Forever" (2)
There was no phobic therapy for me, because I wasn’t interested in going to any doctor…by the way, my dentist will tell you, I’m a perfect patient. I also had mitral valve repair surgery two years ago, having my chest split open and all successful. Finally gained confidence in a doctor, because my cardiologist is perfection…Integrity all the way.
I wasn’t interested in any phobic therapy. Wonders of wonders. my dentist considers me a perfect patient. I also had open heart surgery, with my chest split opened and a mitral valve repair two years ago, and fortunately all successful. Having the most brilliant, caring cardiologist and surgeon helped me overcome my fear of SOME doctors. They were and are integrity personified.