Traction and Casting

Thanksgiving Day - November 22, 1973.
     I have very little recollection of that day, other than when I went to bed that night, I was very nervous. Yet, I fell sound asleep. Ah.....to be young again.

Friday, November 23, 1973 -
     My parents and I headed to Newington Children's Hospital. I distinctly remember my sister Ursula wishing me luck. I think my sisters were so damn thankful that this wasn't happening to them. I couldn't blame them! God knows that I didn't want this to happen to me. We arrived at the hospital and everyone was very kind and very empathetic. I don't have any recollection of being treated with anything but the upmost respect - for the most part anyway. I have spoken with many, many other scoliosis sufferers and they have such horrible stories of being treated poorly during their experiences. I cannot fathom how they were able to move forth after hearing many of their tales, and I now know that I was very lucky in this regard. So, if you're listening or reading this, thank you God!

     Upon exiting the elevator, you would walk out and turn left, literally around to the back of the elevator and right in front of you there was a small, open waiting room with turquoise chairs and sofas for guests, etc. At this point, you could then either turn left or right to go to patients rooms. Left was for the "teens"; right was for the babies and straight ahead opened to a very large waiting area/hallway which culminated in an incline that led to other areas that were unknown at the time. We turned left and I was first brought to my room, which was the second room on the right. I did not have a roommate during this stay. We put my bags down on my bed, which was the one closest to the door and then Nurse Shirley took us on a "tour". This "ward" was a large "U" shape, with the nurses’ station at the opening of the "U" which was right outside my room. She took us all around and introduced me to many of the other kids. The only rooms we didn't enter were the ICU rooms which were at the bottom of the "U". When we reached the end of the "U", you would walk in front of the nurses’ station and my room would be straight ahead. Just like a big circle.

We did the usual requirements and then Shirley said I could stay dressed, but that I needed to be brought downstairs for more x-rays and "pictures"? Hmmm, I thought, "pictures"?? Yeah, well.....here is a not so wonderful memory. I did have some basic x-rays done and then I was brought to another room where I was asked to strip everything off. Completely. They handed me some "paper" panties and and a black blindfold and told me to put them on. They barely covered anything. They were like today’s thongs! So there I stood there completely naked with the exception of a paper pantie and a black blind-fold! They then explained that they would be taking pictures of me for "before" and "after". Strange, but true. I have no idea why I didn't question this, but I was an "obedient" child and I suppose I just thought I better do what I was asked. I do recall that I was very, very uncomfortable and very nervous. I had heard of "bad" people who took pictures of young girls and I remember thinking, "God, I hope these don't end up anywhere!". I may have only been 12 years old, but I knew this was weird. Yet, when it was over, I jumped back on the gurney and returned to my hospital room and never uttered a word to my parents. I was too afraid that I may have done something that I shouldn't have allowed. I felt shame. To this day, I've only told two people this story and up until a couple of years ago, was still uncertain as to whether this was common place or not. I have since found out that it actually was. Rather disturbing, don't you think?
    
I was so surprised when Shirley said I could still stay in my clothes! Within a short time, Shirley came back with another nurse, Kim. Slowly, they explained the traction bed. I think that it was called Cotrel traction, and it was on a Stryker frame. It was totally barbaric and scary, I must admit. There was a pulley system overhead and weights at the head and foot of the bed. So I hopped on the bed, completely ignorant of what I was about to experience. I do remember that the first thing they did was slab Vaseline all over my chin. That should have been an indication, right?? However, being 12, I don't think I thought too much about it and I just did what I was told. Looking back, my parents must have been heart-broken and scared for me, but thankfully I sensed none of it. They never left my side and Shirley and Kim went about adjusting me in the traction bed. First, I was to lie on my back and a leather harness (I told you it was barbaric!) went under my chin and around my head. This was attached to weights, which gently (it really did feel gentle at first!) pulled my cervical spine upwards. Then, another leather harness was wrapped around my hips, which in turn was attached to more weights that gently pulled my lower thoracic and lumbar spine downwards by the hips. Shirley explained that each day, the weights would be increased. The motive was to "stretch" the spine straighter each day. I don't remember exactly how often I was rotated to avoid bed sores, but I was. I do recall that it was terribly uncomfortable to lie on my stomach with traction and it was very boring. I was not allowed up for any reason. I had to use a bedpan and I was sponge bathed daily and my clothes were changed, while still in traction. Very tricky. I thought it was so odd that I didn't have to put a johnny on like all the other kids and I was able to wear "street" clothes. I was too afraid to ask at first, but soon learned that my jeans would provide more cushioning from the leather hip belt than if I just had on a johnny or if it were on bare skin. It was not really painful or uncomfortable at first and if anything, I was actually excited during the first few days - I mean, NO school, NO sisters to fight with, my very own TV and I was able to choose what I wanted to eat. I thought it was better than going out to dinner; I was able to choose all three meals! You see, I've always been a "foodie". It didn't seem too horrible to me! Often people have asked me, "How could you not have been totally beside yourself crying and scared hooked up to that thing?". In all honesty, I do believe it was all because of my parents. They gave me NO indication that I had anything to be scared of. I looked to them; I truly believed that if I had anything to be scared of that my mother would have told me and since she didn't, I believed that everything would be okay. I trusted my parents 100% and they just acted as if this was no big deal. Of course, it probably helped that my mother was generally a very "matter-of-fact" person all the time - a trait that I myself have been labeled with on occasion! As a mother, I can only imagine how terrible it must have been for them to leave me night after night. I was 12 years old, all by myself in this huge hospital. I don't really know why I wasn't petrified, but I wasn't. My parents spent all day with me and would only leave at night and be back again in the morning. They were the epitome of "calm" for a child. I will be forever indebted to them for this; they truly were my rocks. All I ever had to do at that hospital was to look around me. It would always make me realize that I was a very, very lucky girl.

     At this point, let me explain where my parents stayed during this time. As it turned out, my parents had family friends, Teresa and Jim Serruta who lived in New Britian, CT. They were lovely and charitable people, who so graciously opened their home to my parents during my stay. It was a relatively short distance to the hospital and just like my Godmother Nancy, the Serruta's also managed a Bess Eaton donut shop as well. So, guess what I ate a lot of? I think I hate donuts nowadays because I ate so many of them in my youth!! Teresa was a quiet woman, but never without a smile and so sweet to me and obviously so kind to my parents. Jim was clearly as kind as his wife - I didn't see as much of him, but he also was very sweet to me. My Dad missed work during much of this time and stayed by my mother's side - which meant he was able to stay by mine as well. I was oblivious at the time, but in hindsight, how fortunate my parents were to have such wonderful and caring friends to rely on. So for the first couple of days, I was fine. However, after a few days, the whole thing was getting rather old! By Monday, my chin was hurting. I didn't want to complain, so I remained quiet for the majority of the day. Late in the afternoon, I very reluctantly told my mother that my chin was really hurting. She said she would put more Vaseline on for me but when she moved the chin harness aside, she noted that the skin had started to rub and blister. It was bleeding. My mother asked me why I hadn't said anything and I said, "I didn't want to complain". She immediately went and got a nurse and Kim came quickly. She said, "Valerie, why didn't you tell me?". So I got "scolded"(ever so gently) by all of them that I MUST let them know if anything hurt. You see, I didn't want to be a baby like that orthopedic doctor from Westerly called me! I was determined that NO ONE was going to call me a baby ever again!! I would show him! I was determined not to complain and not to cry. They had to put gauze and Vaseline constantly on it and lots of Bacitracin, as well. If I remember correctly, I think I had to start taking an antibiotic as well. Boy, did that hurt and at that point, there wasn't a lot they could do but try to make me as comfortable as possible. The worst part is that after a couple of days, the weight had increased so much at the hips that the hip harness would drag me down to the bottom of the bed, so I was constantly grabbing the bars over my head and pulling myself up. In turn, this would rub the chin harness as well. Ouch. By the 4th and 5th days, this was just a constant, repetitive act that I was plainly getting sick of. Suddenly, I no longer cared that I had my own TV, or that I could choose what I wanted to eat, or that I had no sisters to fight with. I was miserable and I just was done with the whole thing. I just wanted to go home and fight with my sisters and eat whatever my mother cooked.

     On the 13th day, I was taken for x-rays and informed that enough straightening had occurred and that I was ready for my cast. Yeah! I could go home after that. I was so excited - I was going home. The next morning, December 7, 1973, I was bathed and instead of putting on street clothes, I was put in a johnny. Next, I was taken to the cast room. This was reached by going up that incline, right past the large open waiting room that I mentioned earlier. (First there was a waiting area and then the incline). At the top of the incline there were two large bed scales, on either side of the wide hallway, in which you were weighed before and after casting. There were also offices to the left and a set of elevators to the right, for medical personnel to use only. Looking back, I was never afraid to be with all these strangers and away from my parents. These days, I would NEVER let my children go through this without me by their side because you can't trust anybody. Things were so different back then, but on the flip side - no harm came from it and actually I think it matured me in ways that I wouldn't have been able to otherwise. So, first I was weighed and then an orderly (a male no less! Like that would happen today!) took me on the elevator down to the cast room. Now, most everyone I have talked to that has shared this same experience has horrible memories around casting. Mine weren't fabulous, but they weren't horrendous either. For that I am grateful. First, you were shimmied from the bed to this tiny, skinny bar. That is the only way I can explain it. It always reminded me of a balance beam, you know - like gymnasts use. I was never allowed enough time to really look at it, but I always felt like I had to concentrate on balancing on it, for fear of falling. Then, I suppose this was when I learned to lose any modesty that I had ever possessed. You lay stark naked - completely. A stocking was put on my feet and drawn up right over my head. Someone would make a hole for my nose and my mouth so that I could breath. I couldn't see a thing - and then it would start. It was strips of Plaster of Paris soaked cheesecloth-type material that they would start wrapping, moving from bottom to top. It felt warm and wet. Rather gross, actually. It also smelled terrible. It would take what seemed like an eternity. I would guess it took an hour or two? All I could do was lay there, balancing and I would just listen to the people talk. They would laugh and talk about what they did the night before. They weren't mean at all, but they didn't speak directly to me either. They would talk amongst themselves and I would just listen. When they completed the cast, I had to lay there for a little while longer while they cut the gauze at the top and freed my face; then it always felt like whatever I was laying on was slowly pulled out between the gauze and the cast because I could feel it pull along the length of my spine and in the front. I was always afraid it was going to hurt me. Obviously, I now realize that it was used for spacing, so that there was some "room" in the cast for stomach expansion and growing breasts! Then I had to stand and sit and see if it needed trimming, which I did need in order to sit. Interestingly, they DID actually use a saw! Talk about scary!! It was a small, maybe 5 or 6", round and circular electic type saw. That was indeed the most stressful part about casting. Let me tell you, it is not a pleasant experience when someone has a saw that close to your skin - ESPECIALLY when you consider it is either near your face, your head, your armpit or your private areas!! Yeah - definitely stressful, even at 12! I had no idea what I looked like, there were no mirrors. After a while, I was put back on the bed and transferred back to my room. I can only imagine what my parents thought when they saw me; but once again, they didn't let on. The orderly left and Shirley came in and so cheerfully said, "OK, Valerie - let's go for a walk". I remember that my father said, "How much does that weigh?" and Shirley said, "About 25 pounds". It didn't mean anything to me, but I do recall that my father's eyes grew big and he said, "25 lbs? WOW!". I took it that it must be heavy?!? So off for the walk I went; just me and Shirley. Evidently, I passed because when we returned to my room she said that she was going to get all the papers for discharge. I told my mother that I had to go to the bathroom before we left, so I walked towards it. I don't think anyone was thinking about the fact that the bathroom had a full-length mirror as soon as you walked in. I felt heavy and clumsy and awkward but when I reached the bathroom and closed the door behind me, I was forced into seeing what everyone else was seeing. I shrieked and my parents came running. Gosh, that was a horrible moment. I knew that everyone had stated that I would be in a full-body cast, but I guess because I didn't know what that was, I never gave it much thought either. It literally went half-way up the back of my head in the back and came right up under my chin. It stopped where by shoulders end, and I looked like a football player. It went right down to my pubic bone in the front and just about to my tailbone in the back. Now I knew what a "full body" cast was and I was disgusted by what I saw. I hated myself, I couldn't look anymore and I was crying uncontrollably. I remember literally sitting on the toilet and my parents both standing over me trying to console me. But honestly, how do you console a 12-year old girl that is stuck in this thing?? It was useless. I wanted to die. In that moment, I would rather have been dead. I had started the entry to self-loathing and no one could help me. To think that just a couple of hours earlier, I was so excited to be going home and now I didn't want to go home at all. I wanted to stay where all the other kids looked like me. Different. I couldn't stop crying. And I didn't want to leave. How was I supposed to go to school like this? How could I even let my sister's see me? How could I go anywhere like this? I had entered the hospital exactly two weeks earlier, and I was one Valerie. Here I was, 14 days later, a completely different Valerie. Suddenly, I wished I had never been born.