| Biographical Non-Fiction posted May 10, 2020 | Chapters: |
...32 33 -34- 35... 
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An illness and a traumatized child
A chapter in the book Remembering Yesterday
Childcare Problems Yet Again
by BethShelby
| Background The year is 1966 in Jackson, Mississippi. Both parents work and childcare problems keep arising. We have farm in the country with cattle, and we are about to buy more property where we hope to build. |
You made the right move when you decided we should buy the farm property. We were able to sell timber and lease out the cotton land, and an oil company gave us a seven year lease for an option to drill. When we sold the property where your folks were living, we retained half the mineral rights, and another oil company leased that land as well. We’d only paid $90 per acre for the land. The owners financed it at a 2% interest, so we were able to pay off our mortgage on that property quickly. You were raising cattle and growing more trees on the land. From time to time we would have other income from these sources. I had to admit that investing in land was a wise decision.
Your brother, Rhomas, was working as a project engineer building bridges and other large projects. He and Shirley had two boys now, and they had built a new house ten miles from Jackson in Brandon, Mississippi. We visited them fairly often. You got interested in the new highway which was being built through Brandon. It would be Interstate 20 and go from coast to coast. There was a large lot of three acres for sale on the highway, and you thought we should consider buying it and building on it. Since the highway would run through Newton and also nearer the land we owned in the country, living in Brandon would make our commutes faster. Also with three children and only two bedrooms, we needed a bigger house. Don was still sleeping in a crib instead of a bed. We would have to pay off the lot before we could afford to build, but it was something to work toward. We were able to get the land for a reasonable price, and you began working on house plans. When you had a project to put your energy into, you seemed more content and not as concerned about your boss and problems you still had.
Other things were happening in our neighborhood as well. An elementary school was being built on the farm land at the back of our lot. We were pleased about this because when our children started school, they would be within walking distance.
I continued to work at the printing company, and Carol graduated a second time from the kindergarten. We’d had a pretty good run with this childcare facility, but that was about to change. Christi got sick one day and was running a fever. We took her to the doctor, who gave her an antibiotic and sent her home. Her problem wasn’t improving. I had to take off from work and stay home with her. The medicine the doctor prescribed for her didn’t seem to be working.
After a week, I got a call from the nursery and was told Christi had gotten sick the same day as another child. Both girls were put in a room together on separate beds. The daycare manager had just learned the other child was diagnosed with hepatitis. Immediately I called the doctor, and he had me bring Christi back in. Sure enough after checking her out again, he confirmed that she too had that illness. The rest of our family had to go in and get a vaccination to prevent us from catching it. Christi had to be hospitalized. I had no choice but to take more time off from work. The county Health Department took over. They gave all the children at the nursery shots and closed the place down.
I remember the lump of fear in my throat as I led my little three-year-old Christi into the big hospital. I had the nursing staff bring a cot and I moved into the room with her. I had to enlist my mother’s help to come up and take care of Carol and Don. In spite of the bad diagnosis, Christi seemed to be feeling better. Her face was slightly flushed and her skin had a yellowish tint, but she was delighted to have me all to herself. In the children’s wing, there was a big play room. I let her pick out some toys and books, not thinking about the fact that she could be contagious. Later, I was informed that Christi was quarantined, and we were banned from going into the play room.
The doctors came regularly, and she had to get shots several times a day, but Christi just smiled and let them stick her without uttering a peep. Again, my stomach rebelled from eating, and I lost ten pounds the week I spent with her. At the end of the week, the doctor seem to think she was well and could go home. Mother took all the children to her house for the week, and I went back to work.
Christi was sick again a week later. This time she had huge swollen lymph nodes under her arms, and she was running a fever again. Mom came back for another week, while Christi was admitted to the hospital once again. This time. she felt worse than before and wasn’t the good little patient she had been the first week. This time the doctor suspected she might have Cat Scratch Fever since Mother had cats, but the tests didn’t confirm that. We never found out what caused the swollen lymph nodes, but they went down, and we went home at the end of the week.
Now we had to find another child care. A Baptist church had opened a new one not far from where we lived. It was clean and the lady who ran it had a degree in child care and early education. She was young and enthusiastic. It seemed the ideal spot for our children. Christi and Carol were happy with the new arrangement, but for some reason, Don was not thrilled.
One problem was that the teacher aspired to turn all of her young charges into performers. She had a stage set up, and everyday she got the children to come up and sing or dance or whatever they were capable of doing. All of my children had good voices, and the girls went along with singing. Don didn’t like being on display. As the days passed, he became more and more reluctant to go. It got so bad he would wake up in tears every morning.
Then one day, one of the nursery workers stopped me and asked me to send an extra set of underwear and pants for Don. It didn’t make sense. Don had been toilet trained for a long time. He didn’t have any problems with that at home. The lady told me he was wetting his pants every day and they had to find something to put on him while they dried his clothes.
Gradually, we got the story by questioning Carol. Don was afraid of one of the ladies. She would single him out and take him to the restroom. Then she would demand that he go before he could join the other children at play. He became so nervous under pressure, he was unable to urinate. When she would finally release him, he would relax and wet his pants. I realized even though this program was working for Carol and Christi, I couldn’t allow my son to become traumatized in this way. Once again, I would need to find another nursery or else search for another maid.
Your brother, Rhomas, was working as a project engineer building bridges and other large projects. He and Shirley had two boys now, and they had built a new house ten miles from Jackson in Brandon, Mississippi. We visited them fairly often. You got interested in the new highway which was being built through Brandon. It would be Interstate 20 and go from coast to coast. There was a large lot of three acres for sale on the highway, and you thought we should consider buying it and building on it. Since the highway would run through Newton and also nearer the land we owned in the country, living in Brandon would make our commutes faster. Also with three children and only two bedrooms, we needed a bigger house. Don was still sleeping in a crib instead of a bed. We would have to pay off the lot before we could afford to build, but it was something to work toward. We were able to get the land for a reasonable price, and you began working on house plans. When you had a project to put your energy into, you seemed more content and not as concerned about your boss and problems you still had.
Other things were happening in our neighborhood as well. An elementary school was being built on the farm land at the back of our lot. We were pleased about this because when our children started school, they would be within walking distance.
I continued to work at the printing company, and Carol graduated a second time from the kindergarten. We’d had a pretty good run with this childcare facility, but that was about to change. Christi got sick one day and was running a fever. We took her to the doctor, who gave her an antibiotic and sent her home. Her problem wasn’t improving. I had to take off from work and stay home with her. The medicine the doctor prescribed for her didn’t seem to be working.
After a week, I got a call from the nursery and was told Christi had gotten sick the same day as another child. Both girls were put in a room together on separate beds. The daycare manager had just learned the other child was diagnosed with hepatitis. Immediately I called the doctor, and he had me bring Christi back in. Sure enough after checking her out again, he confirmed that she too had that illness. The rest of our family had to go in and get a vaccination to prevent us from catching it. Christi had to be hospitalized. I had no choice but to take more time off from work. The county Health Department took over. They gave all the children at the nursery shots and closed the place down.
I remember the lump of fear in my throat as I led my little three-year-old Christi into the big hospital. I had the nursing staff bring a cot and I moved into the room with her. I had to enlist my mother’s help to come up and take care of Carol and Don. In spite of the bad diagnosis, Christi seemed to be feeling better. Her face was slightly flushed and her skin had a yellowish tint, but she was delighted to have me all to herself. In the children’s wing, there was a big play room. I let her pick out some toys and books, not thinking about the fact that she could be contagious. Later, I was informed that Christi was quarantined, and we were banned from going into the play room.
The doctors came regularly, and she had to get shots several times a day, but Christi just smiled and let them stick her without uttering a peep. Again, my stomach rebelled from eating, and I lost ten pounds the week I spent with her. At the end of the week, the doctor seem to think she was well and could go home. Mother took all the children to her house for the week, and I went back to work.
Christi was sick again a week later. This time she had huge swollen lymph nodes under her arms, and she was running a fever again. Mom came back for another week, while Christi was admitted to the hospital once again. This time. she felt worse than before and wasn’t the good little patient she had been the first week. This time the doctor suspected she might have Cat Scratch Fever since Mother had cats, but the tests didn’t confirm that. We never found out what caused the swollen lymph nodes, but they went down, and we went home at the end of the week.
Now we had to find another child care. A Baptist church had opened a new one not far from where we lived. It was clean and the lady who ran it had a degree in child care and early education. She was young and enthusiastic. It seemed the ideal spot for our children. Christi and Carol were happy with the new arrangement, but for some reason, Don was not thrilled.
One problem was that the teacher aspired to turn all of her young charges into performers. She had a stage set up, and everyday she got the children to come up and sing or dance or whatever they were capable of doing. All of my children had good voices, and the girls went along with singing. Don didn’t like being on display. As the days passed, he became more and more reluctant to go. It got so bad he would wake up in tears every morning.
Then one day, one of the nursery workers stopped me and asked me to send an extra set of underwear and pants for Don. It didn’t make sense. Don had been toilet trained for a long time. He didn’t have any problems with that at home. The lady told me he was wetting his pants every day and they had to find something to put on him while they dried his clothes.
Gradually, we got the story by questioning Carol. Don was afraid of one of the ladies. She would single him out and take him to the restroom. Then she would demand that he go before he could join the other children at play. He became so nervous under pressure, he was unable to urinate. When she would finally release him, he would relax and wet his pants. I realized even though this program was working for Carol and Christi, I couldn’t allow my son to become traumatized in this way. Once again, I would need to find another nursery or else search for another maid.
 Recognized |
I'm continuing to recall memories of life with my deceased husband as if I am talking aloud to him. I'm doing this because I want my children to know us as we knew each other and not just as their parents;
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