Mama the Nurse

When I was a small child I caught every germ that came my way. It is because of Mama’s nursing that I lived to write about it. I succumbed to every illness in which I came in contact. One of my older brothers caught the dreaded Scarlet Fever and then one after one we all became ill. There were seven of us. We were quarantined for seven weeks. Before one child was better another was sick and all the time Mama was caring for us with no outside help. She did it all with love and a lot of common sense in this day before antibiotics and other magic drugs. Mother took her skills into the homes of her neighbors when the mothers were laid low. Two neighbor women sickened when the flu was running wild. My mama went to nurse them and stayed there. Daddy kept care of us. She was devastated when the women after she had nursed them back to semi-health arose too soon to assume their accustomed duties, relapsed and died. Of course she wasn’t paid a cent. She though it was her duty to help neighbors in their time of need. There was only one doctor in the sparsely settled community and he couldn’t be everywhere. Mama was especially happy when she had a child to care for. We had a bell beside our bed. She would come at the first ring. Mama insisted that we stay right there in our sick bed if we had the slightest fever and she kept us there one more day after the fever was gone, just to be sure. She was remembering her good friends who had risen too soon. I had pneumonia at six months and again at nine years. The doctor had no medicine to cure it. It was that mom of mine who spent day and night giving me the best care she knew. I remember mustard plasters. She put them on strong and hot to pull the fluid from my lungs. And then when I was better she brought Jello to my bedside and spooned in the liquidy, delicious treat. There was no refrigeration on our farm at the time and the gelatin could not set and hold properly. But I still remember its cool goodness. When we were sick it seemed, our mom loved us most of all.