When we were sick, and if we passed the acid-test, i.e., threw up or had a fever, we got special treatment.
My kids will find this almost impossible to believe, but we only got carbonated beverages, e.g., "Coke", 7up, Ginger Ale, on certain special occasions. Other than our New Year's Eve traditional Ginger Ale float, the other "occasion" was being sick.
Upon completion of said initial "earping", we immediately put in an order for our beverage of choice (of course, we were limited to clear fluids if throwing up). If we had a fever, Coke was also acceptable, as long as the malady not accompanied by stomach upset. This actually made us almost excited to be sick!
Of course, any illness that lasted longer than a day, or fever that was above a certain (undetermined) level meant a trip to Dr. Ferguson.
His was a typical family doctor's office, complete with Coke machine (first the box type, later the upright one with the glass door), uncomfortable (if you were sick enough to be there, you were gonna be uncomfortable anyway) chairs, book of illustrated Bible Stories (I can still picture Jesus' temptation by Satan) and Hi-Lights magazines, and separate Colored Waiting Room (I don't think this meant that Dr. Ferguson was racist, it was just expected by both the white and "colored" patient population of the time - not that it made it right. Later, after segregation, it was a well-patient room, so that contagious patients wouldn't contaminate them... sort of the same principle.)
The counter/front desk and records area were manned by his very capable nurse, Toni. She wore a crisp starched white dress uniform, complete with nurses cap, white stockings and white nurse shoes. Her hair was styled into a french-twist with tight salt and pepper curls on the top.
When your name was called, you walked down the hall to the third (or fourth?) door on the left, which was Dr. Ferguson's office. Dr. Ferguson was a short rotund man with dark hair, balding on top, dark eyebrows and black framed glasses. He was seated at his desk, and you (the patient) sat in the chair at the side of it. He took a glass thermometer out of the holder (full of rubbing alcohol), wiping it off with a gauze square, shook it down, and placed it under your tongue. While waiting for the thermometer to be ready to be read, he took your blood pressure. Then he asked about what brought you to his office. He listened to Mommy's assessment of your illness, then if warranted, hollered, "TO-NI!"
You knew what it meant. You walked further down the hallway, escorted by the no-nonsense Toni. She instructed you to sit on the edge of the exam table, where you watched, with a mixed dread and fascination, as she took a glass syringe, glass plunger and needle assembly from the sterilizer, put them together, and drew-up the liquid from a bottle she took from a large glass fronted cabinet with other such vials and instruments held within. She readied a gauze square, and cotton ball soaked in alcohol, quickly swabbed your upper arm, stuck in the needle and injected the medicine. She pulled out the needle and asked you to hold the gauze square. After a bit she would check for bleeding and put a piece of tape over the gauze "bump". Your personal "red-badge-of-courage".
From the office we usually proceeded to Lakeshore Drug, to have the prescription filled. There, you knew that because you got a shot, you would be rewarded with a treat (usually a foil-wrapped Russell-Stover chocolate).
Then homeward to sip away on your 7up!
Mommy will only drink Ginger Ale right now, but since she's sick, she gets special treatment.
