Poetry – Baby Boom

Pilot light flame

When my father was little, it was common to do operations,

such as tonsillectomies, in the family home.

He told me this story about when he had his tonsils removed.

Baby Boom


Days of old, when my pop a lad,

My father, his tonsils, found bad.

Need to remove them, doctors said.

Used kitchen table for a bed.


Ether was used in days of yore.

Not shut off pilot, ran through door.

Both doctors, they flew out of the room,

To save themselves when it went boom.

Left poor baby, my dad, to gloom.


Granddad, his pop, to rescue came

Ran into room, heedless of pain


Healers, those doctors, who did swear

First no harm, they did disappear

At first signs of risk to their hides

Maybe why, dad, his trust, subsides

No faith in doctors, yet resides.

–                        – June Nash

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