Operation Tonsils by Grandpa

(Below is an essay written by Grandpa Gibson. I have typed it exactly how he wrote it, wrong spellings and all, and have included a scanned version.)

Operation Tonsils

        Now there was three of us me, my older sister, and my older brother otherwise known as the "little stinker" because you see he had an enviable reputation of devilery behind him.

        I was 7, my brother 9, and my sister was 10, the day they trundled us all into our cooperating neighbors '27 chev on our way to have our tonsils out.

        Mother had versed us well on our manners while at the doctors office but my brother, throughout her instructions, had persisted in chasing the harrassed cat around the room, although I'm sure it wouldn't have made much of an impression on him anyway. But here we were at the doctor's office. We had traversed the inevitable long flight of stairs with a maximum of trouble, for my brother had began to rebel and yelled bloody murder to all the people in the vicinity threatening to call every law inforcement body in his knowledge (and some he made up) if he was not turned loose.

        In the waiting room, there was several old camel hair, over-stuffed straight back chairs and an old fashioned kneehole, roll-top desk. My mother had conveniently stepped out for a word with the doctor for a moment and that was all the time my brother required. He hid my sister and myself behind two of the chairs after unsuccessfully trying to put me in the desk and rolling the top down, while he himself crawled down into the cubby hole reserved for the use of the knees of any one using the desk. My sister and myself were soon discovered but where was Keith? Mother, after futile search, had began to believe that he had ran away, as he had repeatedly threatened to do. She would have gone in pursuit had not the old-maid nurse came in, sat down at the desk and nudged Keith a mite too much. She soon found the misplaced boy and would have as soon as he had ran away.

        The nurse had regained her composure, and her temper. I had had my tonsils out with little trouble. My sister was in the process of losing heres, and mother and the still present neighbor were returning, with Keith from a comparitively quiet walk. Everything looked as if it were under control. But the worst was yet to come. Keith had yet to have his tonsils removed.

        Mother, the for-bearing neighbor, the doctor, and the two nurses were trying to hold Keith down while the doctor removed his tonsils. Ah, the ether was begining to take its effect but only after the poor old nurse had received a well placed kick in the solar plexus and had to be replaced in the field of action (she paled, I am told, at the sight of him for years after).

        Finally the operation was completed and the doctor, mother relates, looked more like a battle commander who had just captured a strategic outpost, than a doctor when he heaved a huge sigh of relief with the words on his lips "operation successful."