I am currently reading "Little Men" by Louisa May Alcott. Although I've read Little Women, Little Men somehow escaped my eye. I knew it was "out there," but I liked Little Women so much I suppose I thought I didn't need Little Men. However, after reading the first 150 pages, I've been proven wrong. It is set at Plumfield, the estate that Jo inherited from her Aunt March. Jo (Mother Bhaer) and her husband, (Papa Bhaer), decided to use the large house to start a school for boys. Their love for the children is unmistakably evident as they attempt to transform rowdy boys into men.
Although I am enjoying the story itself, I'm enjoying the writing style of Alcott even more. The story is cute, and most definitely keeps my attention. But Alcott has a way of describing situations, characters thoughts, and scenery that I can really identify with and appreciate.
The writing style, of course, is old and therefore different than we're accustomed to. But once you read a few pages, you'll settle in and the old rules of writing are not a hindrance. So ... while I can't give you a complete opinion on the book yet, I wanted to tell you that if you need a book to read the next time you have a rainy day, I am confident Little Men would keep your attention, and maybe even make you long for the days of old.
Don't forget the warm cup of tea ... and of course, an old quilt to wrap up in.
Enjoy!
~PrairieBren
"Andrew's parents!" the nurse called out.
We stood as if at attention.
"You can come see him now."
Shaun, Ashlee, and I followed the nurse down the hall. Andrew was lying in bed, eyes closed, dried blood on the corner of his mouth. We touched him gently, not wanting to disturb him, but also wanting to be near him. Surprisingly, he began talking and thanked Ashlee for stopping by to see him.
"How are you feeling, Andrew?" we asked. "Are you ok? Can we get you anything?"
Empathetic pain struck us to our very core. The memories of my own tonsillectomy when I was fifteen came flooding back to me, remembering the pain as if it were yesterday.
His lip began to quiver. Turning down our offers, he proceeded to talk about his Grandma Brown, who now spends her days confused and sick.
"I'm just thinking about Grandma Brown," he started. "I feel bad for her, because she goes through this kind of thing a lot." Tears were flowing down his cheeks freely now.
Tears stung my eyes, threatening to spill over, but I kept them in check. The air began to feel very thick, the room too small. The post surgery aroma was strong, and I thought Andrew was bleeding too much from his mouth. I was ravenously hungry, and my stomach was complaining loudly. The nurse came in to check on Andrew, wiping the blood from his mouth and administering nasal spray to stop the bleeding. My feet began to turn numb, followed by my hands and face. Leaning over the bed rail, I was thankful I was hungry. A wave of nausea swept over me like an ocean wave that would delight any surfer, and I was afraid of what might come next.
"I think I'll go sit down," Shaun said, interrupting my thoughts.
"Me too," Ashlee replied.
"I'm feelin' a little woozy," I heard someone say.
The nurse entered the room.
"How we doing?" she asked, a little too lively.
One look at the three of us, and she had her answer. The number of patients in room 212 had just increased to four.
There was talking amongst her and the others, but I couldn't focus my mind to hear. "I need to go to the restroom," I said.
"I don't want you passing out in the restroom with the door locked," she warned, walking with me.
"Uhmm ... it's alright. I don't think I'm to that point yet," I lied. I prefer going to the restroom - and fainting - alone. All I wanted to do was sit on the toilet and put my head between my legs. After a few minutes of deep breathing, my heart rate returned to normal. Fearing the nurse would feel a need to rescue me, I decided to return to Andrew's room.
When I arrived, Shaun and Ashlee were sitting in their chairs, side by side, head between their legs. The nurse was scurrying to get 7Up, Coke, water, and anything else they desired. When she saw me approaching, she ran to get another chair, a recliner so that I could elevate my feet.
"When was the last time you ate?" she asked, once I was situated.
"A long time ago," I replied.
Shaun was feeling well enough now to fetch my lunch bag from the car. After a cold drink and some protein, the feeling in my body came back and I was once again coherent. I glanced at Shaun, and we giggled modestly, careful not to wake Andrew.
"Some day we'll look back and think all this is really funny," he said.
"Yeah," I said. "Some day."
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My experience has been that when it's someone you love deeply going through pain, the empathy/sympathy that you feel can wreak havoc on your body. Between the strong emotions, the strong smell, and lack of food, we were in quite a situation. :-) Next time I am waiting for a loved one to get out of surgery, I'll be sure to obey the hunger signal and grab something to eat. No more being brave for me!
On the lighter side of things, Andrew is doing quite well. He had me worried for a time, because he was eating and drinking so little. But we actually got him through the recovery time with no weight loss.
Children that need their tonsils out are usually big snorers. Andrew's been a snorer since he was a baby, but I've not heard him snore once since his surgery. He seems to be sleeping more soundly, and for that, we are very grateful. He's looking forward to not having a constant sore throat. He told me today that he was glad he wouldn't have to go to the doctor anymore to get gagged with a q-tip. I had to be the bearer of bad news, and inform him that the q-tip was a way to test for strep, not swollen tonsils. So he's fairly perturbed at that - but still thankful the sore throats will diminish. :-)
Thanks to everyone for their prayers, visits, and gifts during his recovery. Rest assured, he is back up to par, eating everything he can get his hands on ... and asking for more.
~PrairieBren
