Case Denied / Chapter One

Chapter One:  Naïve  

As with most teenagers I was more interested in my new car, a 1966 Red VW, which my dad purchased for me on my 16^th birthday!  Up to that point it was high school and braces, hanging out with the VW club and not really understanding the world around me.  Shortly after my birthday, in 1967 my father had surgery, and mom and I waited for him in the Recovery Room.  In this hospital the “Intensive Care Unit” and the “Surgery’ recovery room were at the top of this circular hospital.  About eleven floors up, with the center being the actual surgery center which made it convenient for the doctors and the patients.  The phone rang in the recovery waiting area, mom picked put the phone, and mom was told that we both could go up to the Recovery Center, and visit with dad.

As I entered the surgery center, the first thing I noticed, were all the beds located along the circular edge of the room.  There were no windows except some very small ones, like those in restrooms, high up where no one could see in.  It was dark, and only lit by those lights similar to those used to focus on your mouth, when you are at a dentist’s office. It seems I was in the room for awhile before I could find dad, but then I spotted him, behind a thin curtain, sitting up on the bed. The bed and curtain reminded me of those you see in a railroad sleeper car, and dad looked good and upset at the same time.  Dad, just sat there, and stared at me for what seemed like a very long time, before signaling me, somewhat cautiously, as he looked around the room several times. Before the surgery, I remembered his hair looking more gray, but now for some reason it looked jet black.  He had a strange expression on his face, like he had just seen a very bad accident, and said to me, in a low shaky voice “I punched one of the doctors!”  I was staring at dad as he said those words, and I felt a sudden pain in my stomach, like when my appendix nearly bust years ago. For a few seconds, I did not know what to say or how to respond, so I said “you did what?”  Then as if saying this for the first time, He said “I hit one of the Doctors,” to which I asked “why?” Looking around the room, very slowly, and turning his head from side to side, like one of those bobble heads you put on the dashboard of your car, dads eyes were beginning to swell up with tears, as he said to me “They are doing”, then he stopped, look around the room one more time, and said in an even a softer and lower voice “They are doing abortions here!”

Dad seemed to drag out the word abortions, and it sounded more like abooorshuns.  I could clearly see that this was very upsetting to him, so I did not ask him any further questions.  Okay, so even if I did not know at age 16 what an abortion was, dad made it sound illegal, which I found out years later it was!  Dad continued talking in that low voice about how women would come up and have surgery, and when dad realized what was taking place, dad told one of the doctors, “I’m going to report you to the police for killing babies.”  If not already confused, I had no idea an abortion had anything to do will killing babies.  According to dad, the doctor grabbed him, and in an attempt to put him back in his bed, and that is when dad punched him.  It was many years later, that I finally realized, what an abortion was.  I read in 60’s, abortions were illegal, and doctors could lose their license, pay big fines and possible face prison time for taking park in them.

Just as soon as dad was through talking about the abortions, dad said with a very hurried voice, and with a somewhat scared look on his face, and still looking around the room, checking to see if anyone was listening, “You need to get me out of here now!”  The now that came out of his mouth, was laced with desperation and fear, and with a touch of panic.  I knew dad was either loosing it, or heavily medicated or did see something that was very wrong, or all the above. As I sat there, it was hard to believe how this day had turned out.  What should have been a normal operation, turned into something out of a Hitchcock movie?  Yes I was only 16 years old, very naïve and looked at dad and said “sure, where do you want to go?”  It seemed now as if hours had passed, even though it had only been a few minutes, and it also seemed as if everyone in the room was looking at us.  Dad drew closer to me, as if to give me a kiss on the check, and whispered in my ear. Dad’s behavior was really starting to freak me out a bit, as I struggled to hear him say “the hospital by the ocean where my doctor works.”  Once again, dad just stared at me, or right through me, closed his eyes and started to cry, and I had never seen him cry!  I tried to explain to my mom, who had been waiting in the other room, and she seemed to understand what had taken place, or at least I thought so!  Mom called his primary doctor, and in those days you could actually get right to the doctor on the phone, at which point he told mom he would make the arrangements at the hospital to receive dad. Doctors also at that time still made house calls!  Then the doctor that did the surgery on dad told us that he would allow for their own medical transport team to move dad, and there would be no charge!  How nice I thought to myself, coming from the doctor that dad had just accused of murder.

At age 53, dad was overweight and was a chain smoker.  He had two prior heart attacks, and managed to survive to this point.  Dad was in his 30’s when I was born, and finally in his early 50’s owned and operated three companies, and had purchased a home next to ocean for $40,000.00.  While that does not sound like much now, most houses during that time were selling for under $15,000.00.  Our family now had a boat, and was living the American Dream, or were we?  The reason for this surgery was that while dad was building his business we moved around a lot.  I actually went to nine different elementary schools during one of those years. In one of the rental homes we lived in, dad fell while climbing one up an attic ladder.  When dad fell, his left leg was broken, and it was not until years later that it started to develop blood clots.  Thus the surgery to cure what was called “phlebitis!”