This is part 29 of my mother's book about her life, written in 2004.
Mom's Red Dress
Mom told me that when she was young her favorite color was red. She said she wanted a red dress but in those days, a nice girl didn't wear that color. When Jean and I were grown and I lived out here in Arizona, she bought herself a red and black checked suit. So she finally got to wear red.
Mom's sore throat
Mom said when she was little and had a sore throat that needed a doctor, the doctor blew a yellow powder onto her throat through a straw. The name of the powder was something like Golden Seal. I wonder if it was sulfa?
Mom said she used to have really bad "sick headaches" and there wasn't really much anyone could do for them except put a wet cloth on her forehead and tell her to rest. She said she was so thankful when they got aspirin.
I checked and found out aspirin was invented a year before she was born. It was evidently not in common usage since doctors didn't recommend it.
I remember her having them sometimes. She took aspirin and went to bed with a wet cloth on her head. Uncle Doc took over the cooking until she felt better.
As she got past middle age they just about went away.
A funny thing happened one time, although I'm not sure Mom would characterize it that way.
Mom had hives for some reason. Nothing seemed to get rid of them. They just itched and itched.
One afternoon, a car pulled up out front. I told Mom a man in a suit was getting out. Mom gave me a horrified look and said, "I don't want to talk to him. Don't answer the door. Maybe he will go away."
By that time, the man was knocking on the door. We didn't answer. He knocked some more. He was pretty plain he wasn't going anywhere.
Finally, Mom said, "Answer the door, but don't invite him in. If he wants to talk to me, tell him I'm sick."
I answered and he did ask for Mom by name. I told him that she was sick and couldn't see anyone.
He said, "I'm a doctor."
I gave up and opened the screen door. Then I told Mom, who reluctantly crept out trying not to scratch or rub.
He turned out to be Dr. Grover Cleveland Rice, Daddy and Uncle Doc's cousin. He lived in Brunswick. He gave Mom some medicine to take. A doctor used to always take his black bag along. It had instruments and medicine in it along with first aid supplies.
Mom took the medicine, but it didn't work. She was having a miserable summer.
Finally, an old Indian traveling through sold her some medicine. By that time, Mom would have taken anything. It worked.
Dr. Rice often came to visit on Sunday after that and brought his wife and little girl. Everyone always enjoyed seeing them. They came for years until the little girl got old enough to be involved in a lot of activities. She was probably around three or four when they first started coming. She used to rock in one of my little chairs.
Labels: aunt, cousin, farm, grandfather, grandmother, illness, missouri, mother, personal, shopping, this is home, uncle, writing