My War - Installment 38

"Welcome to the 249th General Hospital, Mr. Rollason. I'm Major Gray, head nurse on this ward."

"Nice to meet you Major."

"How was your breakfast?” she asked.

She seemed like a good old gal, so I answered the way I felt.

"Fine, Major, except for the hair on the eggs. I saved them, would you care to have a look?"

"Certainly not, that's horrible....hair on your eggs!?"

"Yes, Ma'am, long black ones.

"I'll talk to the kitchen."

She put some fresh sheets on my bedside table and then started to peel off the dirty ones. I asked if it was OK for me to try and swing off to the right side of the bed and stand on my right leg, while she made the bed. She told me that I had better wait and ask the doctors for permission. She did not want to assume the responsibility if anything happened. I couldn't blame her. I thanked her and told her I would ask when they came around.

The Spec-six that had gone to the PX for me previously was on duty that morning; I talked with him about checking out the price on one of the five inch screen Sony TV's. I didn't want to ask him to do too much at one time. He said he'd check some prices for me on his way home that evening. This was great, I was on my way to becoming a Japanese soap opera addict, even though I didn't know it at the time.

I tried reading that morning, while waiting for the doctors to make their rounds. Eventually they came. They had not been by the day before, because they had been in surgery. They strolled onto the ward and began examining the, post OP, patients at the far end first. They moved along briskly, talking while they poked and probed. Eventually they came by my bed and examined me, talking among themselves as they looked at my X-rays.

I was not able to hear much of what they said, but believing I would return to my unit in a few months, I started to ask questions.

"How long will it be before I'll be able to go back to my unit, Major?"

"I'm afraid you will be going State-side. It will be about one year before you’re walking well again."

"You have got to be kidding, right? That's just not possible.....it’s..., it’s just a broken leg isn't it?"

"Well, not exactly, don't worry, you will be OK."

They quickly moved on to the next patient, while I thought about going into shock. How in heaven's name could it possibly take a year? I'd be going back to the states. Gee, I should have waited to write to my folks. Everything had suddenly changed. I would have to write them again, and write Emily also. Oh well, I just figured I'd try to make the best of a bad thing. They say the Army takes care of its own, I told myself. The government knows best, yeah right? Perhaps I could call my folks and Emily if I could get to a telephone.

When the doctors left the ward I asked Captain Jack Clark if I could have another drink of his Scotch, I needed a lift. I was so shocked when the doctors were there that I had forgotten to ask them about standing off to the side of my bed on my right leg, but then I could do it next time they came around.

A couple of days later Spec-six Thompson brought me my TV. After I thought about it I was not too sure how smart a move it had been to get the TV, everything would be in Japanese, but then I believed that I would be able to follow the stories, by just looking at the pictures. At least it seemed logical and it would be something to pass the time. He had dropped it off and left immediately. I was so excited, like a kid at Christmas time opening up packages. I carefully broke the packing tape and pulled the staples from the lid, flicking them into the ashtray on my bedside table. I awkwardly wrestled the small set from its box and removed the packing material. There, in all its glory, sat my sparkling, brand new, five inch black and white Sony. There was only one problem. I could not for the life of me plug the little bugger in and I was dying to try it out. I would feel like an ass if I had to call a nurse or a corpsman in just to plug in my TV, so I just lay back and waited. Maybe the waiting would make it better when I did get to turn it on.

The ward was quiet, all of the patients were still in their beds, even the excitement of my TV arriving had little effect on the routine of the day. I closed my eyes and dozed off while waiting for someone to happen by. Being on the traction ward, it was not as if I could ask somebody near by to jump out of bed and plug me in. There was no sense in getting too excited getting the TV working, it was just a matter of time and time was all I had.

I was awakened by the sound of the lunch wagon rolling up with its clattering dish ware, and stopping at the foot of the bed. I immediately, before the food service person could unload my tray, asked if she would please plug in my TV; I said this while looking at her through sleepy eyes and holding up the plug. She removed my tray from the stainless steel cart, placed it on my table and plugged me in. Ha Ha, at last.

"Thank you, thank you very much."

I noticed, still through blurry eyes, that she wasn't bad looking at all.

"Doing anything later on, Miss? You could stop by and visit with me....."

She blushed slightly, said nothing and went about her business.

I ate lunch quickly to free up the bedside table for use as a TV stand. The bedside table is an adjustable (height wise) table that goes across the bed from one side and can be used by a bed ridden patient for eating, writing, washing etc.

I placed the Sony on the table and moved it out between Jack and me. Figured that I might as well share, then I turned it on. I clicked through the channels to see how many stations I could pick up and to get an idea of what was on each of them.

There was, what I believed to be, soap operas. The characters were from the Japan of antiquity. The main character being a samurai warrior who could easily take on fifteen to twenty other warriors at one time and always comes out on top. Of course this was always done in the defense of a fair maiden. All the talking was in Japanese, but it was fun to watch and full of action.

The next show that we watched was Bonanza with dubbed in Japanese. It was really amusing seeing and hearing Hoss Cartwright and the others, seemingly conversing in Japanese while riding into town or walking into a saloon in the old west.

Finally the pas de resistance, sumo wrestling. Sumo rates in the same category as baseball in the states, and perhaps it rates even higher since it is such an ancient sport. Sumo wrestlers start their training while very young, like three or four years old. They learn or rather start to learn the tricks of the trade early. Eventually as they grow older they learn to tuck their testicles up inside their bodies and bind them up. This is more efficient than an athletic supporter's cup. Those of us that could see the TV enjoyed it, but that was only two of us. It definitely would not due to stare at the tiny screen continually. I'd have to find a few other ways to pass the time even though it was enjoyable.

Supper came and my eyes were aching from all the TV watching. I could not believe that they ached from watching TV per se, but from watching the small screen from a distance. I was trying to share the picture and it was giving Jack and me both headaches. My right eye was still a bit fuzzy from my accident, all the TV watching probably contributed to the strain. I fell asleep that night still watching TV, the last image that I remembered was one of sumo wrestlers ritualistically purifying the ring with salt.

The breakfast wagon woke me up. The nurses seemed to be easier on the traction patients. They let us sleep longer before making us wake up and wash up, which was usually after breakfast. It really felt strange just lying in bed until breakfast time. I had gotten so use to going to bed between 2300 hours and midnight and getting up between 0300 to 0330 hours and getting three to four hours sleep with an occasional longer night accommodating this hospital life was really going to take some getting use to.

The days moved by slowly, my chatting with Jack and TV watching were punctuated with increasing numbers of naps, which were becoming longer and longer and more and more frequent; I wasn't sure that I had ever slept so much.

I had dozed off again, which was getting to be a normal occurrence, when I was jolted from my dream world by an almost constant gagging and coughing sound emanating from the far end of the ward in the post operative area. The gagging and coughing was periodically, every twenty to thirty seconds, drowned out by a barrage of voices variously talking and yelling such things as "NO!! NO!!" "Just swallow, just keep on swallowing, that's all you need to do. Just swallow and breathe."

As it turned out, Jack told me later, this was a scene that was repeated quite frequently on the post operative ward. Men would come in from Vietnam with gun shot wounds or grenade or other shrapnel type wounds, with a great amount of torn up lacerated tissue. Blood clotting would develop, and so forth, hence "Phlebitis". Part of the treatment was the insertion of a tube into the stomach, via the nose and then down the throat. Hence the repeated commands to swallow and also the continual coughing and gagging from the patient trying to swallow the tube, which would be attached to a suction pump.

I was glad when the ordeal was over, with its near blood curdling cries, moans, gasps, coughs, and such Maybe it was worse having been awakened by it all from a good dream. I was just glad it was over and that I could get back to some heavy duty sleeping before lunch time.

Since I had left Vietnam and the strictness and discipline of Alpha Troop I had started to grow a mustache, which after these weeks in the hospital was starting to take shape nicely. I could lie about and feel that I was actually accomplishing something, although not much; growing hair is no great accomplishment in my book.

I started to lay some plans for having my whole bed moved down the hall to where a pay telephone was located. The plan was to call my parents first and then Emily during the same excursion. All I would have to do would be to con a couple of corpsmen into pushing me down to the phone. First I would have to figure out what time of day to make my move. I wanted to call when my Dad would be at home as well as my Mom. I would have to give it some thought and decide what would be best, along with calculating the time difference.

JUST CONCENTRATE....RELAX....YOUR FEELING DROWSY!

While growing up I had developed a keen interest in hypnotism and had seriously studied and then practiced on cousins and friends for years. I had also practiced, even more extensively on myself with self hypnosis, for a number of years. Practicing since entering the service just was not feasible until now, because I was too busy with training and Flying and then Vietnam. The hospital situation with its unlimited and uncommitted time line would be the perfect place to practice my self hypnosis. I remembered some of the more fantastic claims made about hypnotism. I had read where common colds had been averted for years using suggestions, which it was theorized, increased the number of antibodies in the immune system. I was unable to recall all of the details, but I did remember how fascinated I had been with the inquiries. One thing I did remember in detail was an experiment that I had done with a cousin of mine. He had a sore throat. Under hypnosis I had suggested that the circulation would temporarily increase to the throat area and the soreness would go away, so that his throat would heal faster. After I suggested this I had watched in amazement as his throat turned a bright pinkish color from the increased circulation. I had always taken my study of hypnosis very seriously and considered myself to be on at least a Para-professional level.

As I remembered these things I figured that it certainly would not hurt, and perhaps it would help to heal the broken leg faster. It was worth a try. If nothing else self hypnosis was a great way to pass the time and was a good exercise in self discipline. I decided to give it a try. There was absolutely nothing to lose in any event.

I positioned myself as comfortably as possible on my bed and began the process of relaxing my body to begin self hypnosis; talking myself into an altered state of consciousness. I had placed a suggestion in the subconscious that I would wake up when my subconscious detected the sound of the incoming mess wagon. It worked, waking up feeling more rested than I had in quite some time and for the first time took notice that the girls that brought the meals around were Japanese, civilians, I guessed. I spoke to the girl as she brought me my tray, she did not seem to understand anything that that I said. There was no wonder any longer that the girl here previously had not replied when I was talking to her. She had probably realized that I was addressing her, but had been unable to fathom what I was saying.

I ate and then watched TV until sleep overtook me around 0200 hours in the morning.

Breakfast came as usual the next morning, hair and all. Again I felt more rested even though I had a comparatively short sleep. I guess I was getting used to being constantly on my back and with leg in the air, a totally unnatural position. It was X-ray day; we all waited in anticipation to find out if progress was being made inside our bodies. There was one fellow across the ward that was, he had been told, about ready to be shipped state side. All he needed was a good report from the day's X-ray and he would be packed for shipment in a new body cast. I did not know the fellows on the other side of the ward. Matter of fact I did not even know the guys on my side of the ward that were more than a bed or so away.

The X-ray machine was driven onto the ward around mid-morning and the technician began to X-ray the traction patients, the short timer being the first in line. The technician moved the portable machine into place with great precision and expertise for a lateral shot of the patient's leg. The thickness of the leg was measured, the width and breadth for the shot were determined, the exposure calculated and the aperture set on the head of the X-ray machine. The technician reached for and retrieved a large sixteen by twenty, or about that size, plate, in its heavy metal shielded frame, from a rack on the side of the machine. He held it up and attached some metal letters to the edge before explaining to the patient how it was to be held. He wanted it done in this particular way, so that a good lateral picture could be taken. Then, holding the plate high, to move it carefully over the patient's leg, he clumsily let it slip from his hands. The heavy film holder dropped directly, edge first, onto the leg and re-broke the fragile setting of the femur.