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Later, the bright sunshine on my face woke me up. I could hear clearly. A nurse in uniform put her hand on my forehead and then a thermometer in my mouth. Taking it out a couple of minutes later, she smiled and put her hand on my cheek.An Army Colonel walked in with a uniform on, a doctor from the insignia on his collar. "I'm Colonel Carnes but I prefer either Doctor, or Phil."I tried to talk, throat dry, my voice hoarse."Here, have some water. You were under sedation."Drinking some, I tried again. "What happened?" Well, Mister Hanson — may I call you Crane?" At my nod he continued. "Well, Crane, your body just quit. You collapsed in front of Kress and the ambulance took you to St. Francis. It was touch and go. It looked like your liver was going to quit; you came close to dying. Your body did start responding, and after you stabilized somewhat you were brought over here to the VA Hospital. All they had was your name but the guy from the Salvation Army thought you were a vet, and they. Behind his back, some of the tougher kids (both boys and girls) snickered as he walked by and whispered among themselves that Peter was a wuss or a sissy. And by that they only meant he wasn’t a tough guy, probably was a nerd or maybe just not into man-type stuff, like football. ‘Sissy’ at this point had no sexual connotation; it was more like calling him ‘Lilly-livered’.However, when some lads in his gym class noted how this shy guy hid his privates in the shower with his back to all the other guys, ‘sissy’ began to take on a more pejorative, sex-related nuance. They saw that Peter quickly put his underpants on in a crouched position to hide his manhood. They noticed his soft spoken voice became high pitched like a girl’s squeal when he got nervous and he was on edge at the most unusual times, like when he was talking with girls in class. You know the type, girls whose boobs measured greater than their IQs.‘Bimbo-blushing’ was a common phenomenon. They’d seen that sort of shy.
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