“Time to Confess” by Carla Reid

Whenever my mother caught me trying to weasel my way out of something by lying. I was lectured on the sin of telling lies.  Mother was religious and often stretched the 10 commandments to 11 to include whatever point she was making. Lying, often made it to the top of her list.

I wasn’t convinced lying was so bad.

It wasn’t till the ripe age of 5 that I learnt that my mother and the gods played on the same team.

 I had discovered that if I had a cough at bedtime, my mother would bring me out of bed to sit in the living room. She would bundle me in a blanket at the end of the couch. Bring out the record player. Set our favourite album, Oklahoma, on to play. Then give me candy to sooth my throat.

It was terrific. The more I coughed, the more candy I got.  It was a great gig, and I mastered the art of coughing quickly.

Night after night I’d sit sucking candies and listening to records. I was perfecting the art so well that my poor mother took me to the doctor’s. Allergies, he said.

When we got home it was decided that my small bedroom across from the bathroom might be the cause of the problem.  The fragrance from the soap could be setting my cough off.  My older brother had the large bedroom at the back of the house and got shuffled to the little room I was in. I got the big one. I figured it was a score. Now I had room for all my toys.

Carla, age 5

After a couple of days, the lure of candies called and I started coughing again. Back to the doctor we went. The tonsils must come out was his solution. I was 5 and had no idea what he was talking about.  My parents looked grim, and I started to worry.  I knew I couldn’t confess that the cough was brought on by me. If I did, my mother would kill me.  But the way they sold it with the promise of ice cream and Jello, I figured it was a good trade off.

That morning came a After a couple of days, the lure of candies called and I started coughing again.

I heard my mother and father in the kitchen eating breakfast. As I wandered in announcing I was hungry.   I was told I couldn’t have breakfast until after the operation.  I remember thinking maybe I should confess to the coughing fit.  But quickly thought better of it when my parents brought up the promised ice cream.

I don’t remember much other than fear starting to creep in at the hospital as my parents waved me off. The nurse took me into a ward filled with beds full of children. Some were crying, some were talking and others rocking and hugging stuffed teddy bears.

After that it was a blur till I woke up back in the ward. My throat hurt.  It really hurt and ice cream and Jello didn’t tempt me.  My parents took me home the next day and I was tucked in bed with the radio to keep me company. I really didn’t feel well and all I wanted to do was sleep.

That night I woke in pain with blood all over my pillow. Quickly my parents wrapped me up and whisked me to the hospital. I heard the word hemorrhaging as the doctor and nurse rushed me into a brightly lit room. The nurse started to pound on my arm with a little mallet looking for a vein. The doctor kept shouting at me to stay still and stop crying. I remember being terrified.

The next day I awoke in the ward again. That afternoon my parents came to get me. My throat hurt even worse than before. I was tired, I was cranky and ice cream still couldn’t tempt me. My parents were told if I wasn’t eating, I must swallow corn syrup.

 It was a real fight. They begged. They cajoled. Then they forced.

 I still hate corn syrup.

And so. At the age of 5 I learned two life lessons.

 1) Don’t lie. Lies can spiral out of control and get you into a lot of trouble.

2) God and Mom played on the same team.

***

Carla Reid is retired and living in beautiful Grimsby with her partner and cockapoo Mika. They say her career path went from womb to tomb. Starting in Early Education she wove life through cooking, opening restaurants, developing a clothing line and ended as an Executive in the Retirement Industry. Now settled steps from the escarpment and surrounded by vineyards she has time to enjoy the pleasures of cooking for friends, painting and writing. 

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