In the Hospital

I had been making trips to Shriners Hospital on and off since 1984. The doctor mentioned several times, that I may need surgery "someday." That someday came in the Spring of 1988.
My family and I made the journey to Kentucky, where the hospital was located. The surgery that I was having was called a tendon transfer. Not sure what the exact medical term is, since I'm not a doctor...lol. Anyway, the surgery took place during spring break, so that I wouldn't miss alot of school.
The day of my surgery came, and I remember a nurse came in to prep me. I remember feeling like Tarzan, because of the thing she tied onto me that covered Mr. Happy. She then wheeled my bed out in the hall, and then gave me a shot in the leg. Then my mother came and was talking with me, and I asked her if she could help me get more comfortable. When I raised my head up, the dizziness hit me. Mom told me to lay back down.
Shortly after, came the people who would be taking me to the operating room. It seemed to take forever for us to get there. Once we got there, they transferred me to the operating table...which was VERY cold. Then they put they put the mask over my nose and mouth, and I was out like a light.
When I woke up, it felt like someone had bound my legs like a mummy. I told them to "get me out of here." After awhile I got used to it, and everything was fine...until the spasms kicked in. I also remember having an IV. Dad kept telling me that the more I ate, the sooner I could have the IV removed. So when lunch came, I ate every bit of it...and said goodbye to the IV.
We went home a few days later. I have to tell you, it was a blast riding in the car, on my back. While I was home, my dad and I would go out and walk in the driveway. Walking was awkward, because there was a bar connecting the casts.
We went back to Kentucky a short while later, to have the casts taken off. When they took each leg out, they bent each leg. I cannot tell how painful this was. They then stood me up and asked me to walk on a walker. This was also torture.
After we came home, my dad kept trying to get me to walk on my crutches again. I told him I couldn't because of the pain. He and my mother then made the decision to send me back to the hospital for physical therapy. Their only problem was that they would have to leave me there alone, because my dad had to work, and mom had to take care of the kids.
Back to Kentucky we go. Dad left a couple days later, but before he left he told me that he left a bunch of change at the nurse's station. One night I asked if I could call home. The nurse said, "No." I was crushed. I guess she sensed it, because a few minutes later she told me that it would be fine for me to call home.
A couple days later it was finally time for my therapy session. I laid down on the mat, and cried shortly after the therapist started working on me. The pain was unbearable, but this was the only solution. When he finished, he said that he would see me again next week to see how much progress there was.
So the day came to see the therapist again. He and another therapist stood me up, and asked me to walk on the parallel bars. It was amazing, there was no pain at all.
Just like that my stay in Kentucky was over.