Jerry Lewis Comforts Me In Miami’s Children’s Hospital
It was October of 1954. I’d just turned 13 years old and returned from playing in the Little League Baseball Southeast United States Championship in North Carolina when my parents told me they had been waiting for the baseball season to finish before taking me to an appointment with a Dr. Kaiser at the Children’s Variety Hospital in Miami to get my back/spine checked out. It was because my back had been injured eight years earlier at age 2 ½ (See Historical Series No.18 ) and, although I never had any back pain, there was a concern by our family doctor, Dr. Martin, that my upcoming teenage growth spurt might cause me to have excessive curvature of the spine unless corrected.
Dad went with Mother and me to meet Doctor Kaiser, a kind-looking middle-aged man with receding black hair, wearing rimless bifocal glasses. He first examined the X-rays and then, my back. Next, he turned to my parents and solemnly confirmed that I needed a spinal operation. Dad immediately wanted to know what it would cost. Dr. Kaiser disarmed Dad by saying something like “Don’t worry about the cost. You probably couldn’t afford it if we charged you. This is actually going to be an experiment, so we won’t be charging you anything.”
That seemed to satisfy Dad, but I didn’t like the “experiment” description. However, there was nothing much I could do but to go along with the adults. Doctor Kaiser said we should come back the following Monday, prepared to check me into the hospital. We did, and thus began a journey which lasted nearly a year and a half, with me spending it mostly in a post-operation body cast.
I don’t remember much about the operation itself except they put me to sleep using something called a spinal tap. They then inserted a hard plastic rod about a foot long in my back next to my spine and sewed it into my back. When I awoke, they wrapped me in a plaster body cast from the top of the back of my head, down to the lower part of my left hip, and then down my right side around my right leg to my knee. I could not sit up, and soon found out I couldn’t even roll over. However, they did leave about a 7-inch round opening in the front of the cast at my stomach area, so I could breathe, which I greatly appreciated.
A few days later, I was told that the famous comedian Jerry Lewis was coming to the hospital to visit the children, including me. When he arrived, I was expecting to see his big smiley face like I’d seen on TV and in the movies. However, when he walked into the room and looked at me in my full body cast, his face reflected tremendous sympathy, rather than humor. He looked at the name tag on my bed, which listed me as “James David,” and said “James how are you doing?” I gave him my best smile then lied and said “fine.” He patted me on top of my head and left. But I really appreciated his coming to the hospital to visit us. In fact, I still make a point of watching his muscular dystrophy telethon on Labor Day every year and usually make a donation.
It was October of 1954. I’d just turned 13 years old and returned from playing in the Little League Baseball Southeast United States Championship in North Carolina when my parents told me they had been waiting for the baseball season to finish before taking me to an appointment with a Dr. Kaiser at the Children’s Variety Hospital in Miami to get my back/spine checked out. It was because my back had been injured eight years earlier at age 2 ½ (See Historical Series No.18 ) and, although I never had any back pain, there was a concern by our family doctor, Dr. Martin, that my upcoming teenage growth spurt might cause me to have excessive curvature of the spine unless corrected.