I was born a month premature, in early December 1963. My mum went into labour several weeks before I was due, suffering with the exeedingly dangerous extreme high blood pressure of pre-eclampsia.
To add insult to injury, I then presented as a transverse breech, literally trying to enter the world bottom first, and so in the end I was born unceremoniously by emergency Ceasarian Section in the middle of the night. I was immediately whisked off to whatever the 1960s version of the Special Care Baby Unit was called.
I remained in an incubator for however long it took to stabilise me, while mum remained dangerously ill in a different part of the hospital. Not the best bonding experience for either of us. Mum always said she didn’t feel like she’d had a baby – she felt more like she’d had her appendix out.
My dad always joked I tried to come into the world in too much of a hurry, arse before elbow, and have continued through life in the same vein. He’s probably quite right, even now I’m not one for biding my time and doing things in the ‘right’ order… 🙂
Daily Prompt: Premature
I grew up during the 1970s watching The Waltons as part of our regular family viewing on our one-and-only TV set for the entire house. I remember it as one of those feel-good shows depicting the life of the large extended Walton family growing up in the beautiful Virginia mountains during the 1930s and 1940s, and maybe even the 1950s. The well-known characters became like friends, and so we grew up with them, sharing their dramas and difficulties, trials and tribulations.
Somewhere along the line I must have stopped watching it altogether as my mid-teenage years found me focusing more on spending my evenings either listening to pop music in my bedroom or on chatting on the phone with my schoolfriends, no longer joining in with traditional family viewing time. I dropped the schmaltzy stories of John Boy Walton in favour of swooning over the songs of Donny Osmond and David Cassidy without a second thought…
Roll on several decades, and this long Easter Bank Holiday weekend just gone I found a back-to-back Walton movie-fest on one of our cable channels, so decided to give it a whirl and see what had happened to my old friends in later years. But what a shock I had in store – somewhere along the line an imposter John Boy had appeared, and yet everyone was still treating him like he really was the John Boy we all knew and loved! Thankfully, by the following movie, order had been restored and John Boy was himself again.
Incensed, I consulted my good friend Google, only to find out that a different actor, Robert Wightman, had actually replaced Richard Thomas as John Boy Walton not only for the last few TV series but also in one of the later movies. So I suppose as I was the one to abandon them in the first place, I have no place to complain about feeling cheated just because a replacement actor played the main character who didn’t even appear in person in every episode anyway…
G’night John Boy! 🙂