All Of My Days Have Been Misspent
There was a rumor going around that someone in the 2nd grade had them. Darn second graders were always causing trouble. I had heard of them and was always pressured by my mother to contract them. All I knew was that I was going to be itchy. Seeing as though I hated mosquito bites with a passion, I wanted no part of these so called chicken pox.
I remember when someone in my class got them. My mother dragged me kicking and screaming over to this child's house and demanded I play with him. I did not want to go over to his house because he had funny hair and smelled like onions. Much to her dissappointment, I hid in the bathroom the entire time I was there. I avoided the evil scab filled plague for at least 2 cycles during my tenth year of life. But I finally succumbed to them, 3 days before the last day of school. I missed the coolest 4th grade trip to Six Flags Great America because I got the chicken pox. Everyone else got to miss actual school days when you did work and had to learn. I missed the goof off days filled with assemblies and yearbook signings.
I retreated to Grandma's while I was sick. That is where everyone retreated when they were sick. But not before my mother smeared everyone of my open sores all over my sisters blankets and pillows. In some circles, I believe this would be called Manchausen by proxy, but apparently parents think it is appropriate to infect their children with this virus.
As far as I was concerned, I needed to itch. There was no forbiding me to itch these bad boys. The scabs called to me, "Pick me off...pick me off....". I couldn't resist. I did not care if I was one big pock mark. The entire time I sat there itching the only thought that gave me relief was knowing that, from what my mom told me, my sisters would be contracting this disease, which at the time I thought was going to be the death of me.
After a week of oatmeal baths and 18 bottles of calamine lotion, only a few scabs left, my parents pulled up in the minivan. I ran out to the car to greet them. My sisters were carried in my parents arms and handed over to my grandparents. They were officially "infected" and requiring Grandma's medical attention. Only the healthy children were allowed at the parent's house. I returned home from my battle with this disease with the satisfaction of knowing I passed these suckers on just as my mom had requested. They didn't get to miss any school. Suckers!!!
