Tonsils out - new president in

TONSILS OUT AND A NEW PRESIDENT IN
This summer was to bring something new to me--my first job away from home, and also the loss of my tonsils. Let's talk about the bad news first! For years I had been troubled with a sore throat most of the time, or so it seemed to me. After we moved from the homestead down to the Burke place, the same trouble followed me. My throat would get awfully sore, I'd be sick for a few days, and then it would go away. I had been to see Doctor Cockrell a time or two about it, and he had recommended that my tonsils and adenoids be removed. I was what was called a "mouth breather" (I usually had my mouth hanging open!) because the adenoids nearly completely blocked the nasal passages. Dad used to tell me to keep my mouth shut, but I couldn't--I had to breathe through it most of the time.
That summer of 1934 was a tough one for many people. Work was hard to find, wages were low, and expensive operations just couldn't be considered. Then one day in June, 1934, the doctor told my folks that there was public money available to help. He wanted several of the neighborhood children to have our tonsils out, all on one day, at the hospital in Glasgow. While I surely wanted to be rid of my persistent sore throat, you have no idea how I dreaded the thought of an operation!
The day came, and we tonsillectomy victims, a whole carload, went to Glasgow and to the hospital. I had never been in a hospital before, and can still remember that "ether plus lysol" smell in the hallways. We boys (the three Grant boys were also there) were taken to one large ward, and told to get our clothes off, and to get into hospital gowns.
Now you should realize that I had just turned fifteen, in June, and was enjoying those changes that happen to boys at that age. My voice was changing, and hair was growing in new places. I was acutely modest, honestly! When I found out what a hospital gown was, I was ready to jump out of a window. They gave us children's gowns, and the silly one given to me to put on, tied in the back as they still do today, came down exactly to my navel! My whole lower area was exposed to the world! Well, in agony we boys got into those things, and then crawled under the sheets to hide our nakedness. I had never been so embarrassed in my life!
Soon our Doctor Cockrell, who was to do the surgeries, came cheerfully down the hall to our ward, and asked who would like to be first. As you can guess, there was total silence. Then, because I wanted badly to get the whole thing over, I volunteered. I had to walk down a long hall in that miniature gown, right past open doors of rooms occupied by various people. I was sure they all were looking at me, and enjoying my discomfort and embarrassment. I crawled up on the operating table on my own, accepted the ether mask, and was soon counting, as they did in those days, while the ether took effect.
The next thing I knew I was back in the ward, in bed, with the most terrible sore throat I had ever had. Next to me were a couple of other fellows, still under the anesthetic, drooling bloody stuff on their pillows, just as I had been doing. Oh, that was a long, terrible day! We could have CocaCola to drink, and were given a little ice cream to eat, but mostly we were so nauseated from the ether we didn't want anything. We didn't want to swallow, or to do the opposite, which was happening all too frequently. We all survived, of course, and after a restless night were allowed to go home the next day.
That operation took place in the latter part of June, and the weather was hot and dry. Because of my delicate condition, I didn't have to work for a few days, at least, and so had a good chance to recover. But I wasn't quite through with the effects of the operation yet!
Franklin Delano Roosevelt, our new President, was touring the West that summer to show himself to the people. He was scheduled to stop in Glasgow, our county seat, for a ceremony in which he would be made an honorary member of an Indian tribe from the reservation east of Glasgow, at Wolf Point. This was a big event in that part of the country, and almost the whole population of the county gathered in Glasgow for a chance to see the President.
This event took place just three days, I remember, after I had come home from the hospital. The weather was very hot, probably above a hundred degrees in the shade, and there was precious little shade. Nevertheless, we all went, and found fairly good spots to stand along the main street in Glasgow, though we were a rather long distance from the depot where the President's train was to stop. We had brought a chair for Mom to sit on, but the rest of us were standing as we waited.
It was a long wait, and the hot sun was beating down on my bare head. I was very thirsty, and my throat was still very sore, but there was no water available. I'd just have to wait, Dad said. Finally the train pulled in, and from a distance of maybe two hundred yards we saw our President! He was helped down out of the Pullman car, seated in a wheel chair, and wheeled to the platform where he met the Indians. More than that I don't remember! As we were standing there, craning our necks to see all we could, I noticed the man standing just to my right begin to sway back and forth. Then he crumpled down in a heap. I turned to Dad, and asked him,"Did you see that?"
I didn't hear his answer! After a while I came to! I, too, had passed out from standing in that hot sun! I have no idea how long I was unconscious, but I know it was long enough to draw a crowd of people, all standing around looking down at me as I opened my eyes. Someone offered me a glass of water, which I quickly gulped down despite my sore throat. I couldn't imagine what had happened, until I was told that I had fainted or something. Whatever it was (the doctor said later that I had been overcome by the heat), I had a terrible headache, and the whole episode really didn't please me very much! But I had seen the President of the United States!