Lee had a wonderful experience at Elmhurst City Hospital in Jackson Heights, Queens, New York. It was a 1200 bed hospital, so you can imagine that he had all sorts of interesting clinical experiences. His first assignment was 6 weeks in Maternal Child, and it seems like almost at once he was delivering babies by HIMSELF. The hospital had a large OB Department and not enough nurses or docs to cover it all. He would hear a patient let out a War hoop and run in the room to help her only to find the baby was crowning and making their exit with or without medical personnel. One patient even told Lee after he helped her through her delivery. "I Love You." Lee took it all in stride. He has always been very level headed and calm in a crisis. Actually, that was one of the first of his many wonderful attributes that I noticed and admired.
My family was so-o chaotic, I never knew what to expect. I always had a foreboding feeling of apprehension and anxiety. It seems when I look back that I was always scared and afraid of repercussions for some small incident. Other times when I did something which I thought I would be killed for, they hardly reacted.
Actually, this scenario is very common behavior for an alcoholic or a recovering alcoholic who has not participated in behavior modification or some type of psychotherapy.
Truthfully, as I was getting to know Lee I realized that I had never met a guy who was so kind, considerate and loving. He treated me "like a Queen" as my mother used to tell everyone. For many years my mother never believed we were as happy as we were. She would tell my sister "that is just a front, they are really not that happy." My mother did not really have a point of reference because she definitely was not happily married. As I have stated earlier I participated in Psychotherapy for many years. The psychologist told me that I probably would have been closer to my mother had I not been happy. My mother could have related to me better if I had a marriage like hers. In later years my mother really loved Lee. I used to kid him and say "If you and I ever get divorced my mother will take you."
There is one other piece of information I should reveal at this point in fairness to my mother. Originally, there were 5 children in our family. I had two older brothers, and a younger brother and sister. On November 7, 1949 my oldest brother Jim was killed in a car crash on the way to school, it was 9 days before his 15th birthday. My mother went into her own little world afterwards, and the remaining four children basically were on their own. I can remember that day so vividly. The nun came and took me out of class and someone, probably one of my uncles drove me home. The driveway was filled with cars, "who are these people and why are they here at my house?' I said to myself. Inside the house my mother was crying and inconsolable. People were fixing food and making coffee. My father was making arrangements for Jim's funeral. We were very poor, sort of the hard luck family of my father's 5 other brother's. My parents had to buy clothes suitable for my brother to be laid out in and of course they had to buy a cemetery plot. One of my cousins who was about my size lent me clothes to wear to the wake and funeral. I still remember standing near the casket during the graveside service, crying, and alone. That was the beginning of the melancholy years which basically lasted for the rest of my mother's life. Sometimes I speculate that if she would have been allowed to grieve properly things would have been different. My father would not tolerate her crying and we never were allowed to talk about my brother, therefore she would stifle her emotions. None of us were really allowed to have emotions, we were supposed to be "tough." Late at night after us kids went to bed , my mother would have a few drinks which would then precipitate her crying, and becoming emotional. Many times I was awakened by the sounds of my parents arguing and yelling at one another, at all hours of the night.
Our family moved from that house which was filled with sadness. My dad had been a tenant farmer there, coincidentally, the young man who was driving the car my brother died in was the son of the man who employed my dad. There was a great deal of bitterness between my father and the boy's father. This man was a wealthy man and owned a beautiful horse farm which my dad ran for him, but there was never any type of sympathy or remuneration offered to my family.
I'll say good night for now. Rekindling this part of my life has tired me out, more than I would have predicted.
Make the most of your life. God has given us all special gifts to enrich us and to create new experiences in our lives.
Carol
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