A weekly-ish blog sharing my series of collages about growing up in the South during the 1950s.
OMGosh, I remember doctor visits, and lollipops for being a good girl. Nowadays I go to the doctor, tell him/her my symptoms and what usually heals them, collect my meds and go home, hoping against hope that the people I sat near in the waiting room hadn't passed on their germs to me.
I once took a sick daughter to the doctor's office, as well as two of her siblings who were not sick, plus awakening a sleeping baby to join us. It was quite an orchestration, and of course, we were all sick soon. PS My hair was up in rollers.