Just a Penny

I’m not sure exactly why I put the penny in my mouth. It must have seemed like the right thing to do as a bored 6 year old. Not long after, I was in the emergency room. I had swallowed it and mom was worried. The doctors assured my mom there was nothing to worry about, as long as the penny “passed” it would not cause complications. But just to be sure it was not lodged anywhere it shouldn’t be, a few x-rays were ordered.

I remember it very clearly. I lay there on the cold metal x-ray table while the technicians did what they do. Picture after picture was taken. Surely something was wrong with the machine I thought. They called in a senior person. I saw them looking at the films. Coming out to tell me it would be a little while longer, and returning to the back room for more hushed discussions.

Maybe they don’t believe me. Maybe they don’t see the penny. Oh, or maybe it’s really stuck somewhere. I wasn’t sure what was going on.

Weeks later I was told the truth. Something is wrong with my back. I wouldn’t really understand the implications until a few years later. Kypho-Scoliosis. Curvature of the spine in two directions. That’s what the x-rays showed, that’s what the hushed discussions were about. My miserably useless family physician had failed to notice the telltale signs. The protruding shoulder blades should have been his tip off. But no. I swallowed a penny. That’s how it was discovered. That’s how it began.

Less than 6 months later, realizing the curvature was severe enough to warrant very specialized attention, I was referred to Toronto’s Hospital for Sick Children. My father drove us up for the appointments. 4 hours up, 2 or 3 hours running from clinics to x-ray rooms, then 4 hours back. I still don’t understand how he did it.  An older doctor was my first specialist there. I may have seen him a couple of times. I don’t recall his name. His choice was to just monitor my condition. Keep and eye on things.

When he moved on to greener pastures, or retired, I can’t remember which, my case was turned over Dr. Robert Gillespie. A younger, very tall Orthopaedic surgeon. He was very smart and very kind. You couldn’t help but trust in him. So when I was 8 years old and he told my parents that the best course of action was surgical correction with spinal fusion, the decision was made for us. What else could we do. He is the expert right?  

How could we have known what was to come?