(Note: This
series of 10 Blogs are written primarily for my grandchildren. Others may or
may not find them of interest.)
I was born in the
rural “teacherage” (think parsonage) of Zion Lutheran Church, Walburg, Texas.
Mother’s bed had been moved into the dining room, as that was the only room
with a stove to provide heat in the central Texas December cold. Dr. Wiedemeyer was there as always with
his black bag and he was assisted by my Aunt Mattie Kurio. I weighed in at a
healthy 10 pounds. After 11 days I was taken out of the house to the church for
my baptism.
My health continued to be excellent. Of course during the first 10
years of my life I (together with all my sibs) had all the usual childhood
diseases. I know that I had measles, mumps, whooping cough red eye, scarletina
and chicken pox.
Living “out in the country” and always going barefoot I stepped on
myriads of pieces of glass, pins, nails, splinters and bristles. We would dig
them all out if necessary with assistance from sisters or Mother. If we
couldn’t get them out we applied a generous dab of some very black gooey salve
which allegedly has “drawing power.” Whenever we had a deep scratch. An itch
that wouldn’t go away, or the beginning of something like athlete’s foot we
applied a generous dose of kerosene and that usually took care of it.
I had an unnamed Aunt who always supplied us with a drink that was
supposed to be very good at preventing nasty colds or cure them if they had
arrived. It came in a 20-ounce bottle and was called “Alpenkrauter). She used
it very generously and it sustained her health until she was well into her
90”s. It was only then that I really looked at the label and discovered that
its alcohol proof was also something like 90!
Bee, wasps, ants and spider bites were simply facts of life.
Mercurochrome seemed to fix most of that and if things got really bad we went
to Iodine. Yet we were always told to be careful lest we get infected and we
end up with “lock jaw.”
There were other homemade “wonder drugs”. For chest colds there
was a mustard plaster. For sore throat a big slice of fatty bacon wrapped
around the neck brought instant relief. Any pain in the abdomen area requited a
whiskey rub. This was much preferred to detested castor oil. If a cough simply
would not stop Dad would have to spring not only for a rare fresh lemon but
also use some of our carefully limited whiskey. This was mixed with just a tiny
bit of sugar and warm water. I don’t remember it ever failing!
But there was one major health
issue which very nearly proved fatal. Somewhere between the ages of 5 and 7 I
developed a terrible stomachache which could not be helped by any of the home
remedies. Finally Dr. Wiedemeyer was called in. He said “You have got to get
this boy to the hospital.” So Uncle Reinhold and Dad got into the Model A Ford
and took me to King’s Daughter’s Hospital in Temple, Texas more than an hour
away where Dr. Harland (a nephew of Mom) would take care of me. Ether put me
under. It was a ruptured appendix. Peritonitis was all over my insides. Of
course, there were no antibiotics. Three tubes were inserted to drain off the
puss. I was on the critical list. Obviously, I survived. And I marvel at the
tid-bits of memories I carry with me some 75 years later. I remember the embarrassment of not
being able to deliver a urine sample unless I was standing. I remember a
wonderful plump nurse named Miss French. She told me I was beautiful and that
she would wait until I was grown so that she could marry me (and I half
believed her!). I remember Uncle Frank giving me a store-bought little 12-inch
sailing boat. And I do remember the anxiety on the faces of my Mom and Dad and
the relief and prayers of gratitude when I was retuned home. And Mother always
insisted that the one side effect of my appendectomy was that it slowed down my
running. She claimed I was very swift before and just barely normal after the
surgery.