Tommorrow at eight

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Part of Green and White

Title: Tommorrow at eight
Language: English
Year: 1930
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Fulltext: GREEN AND WHITE 135 Tomorrow al Eight By G. H emandez (THAT insidious germ, hallucination, firmly implanted in my brain that my appendix was getting unruly. Having been branded a fathead by numberless wise-crackers ( th2 advent of the talkies is to blame), it is but natural that the aforementioned germ should wax fat and assu.me unbelievably huge proportions. The beastly old germ finally outgr.2w the old cranium, and had to be orally expressed; and it wasn't long before my whole family and most distant connections, on being informed, extrnded thdr sympathy, but depreciatingly belitthd an appendix operation. Nature passed me up when she endowed physical and men'tal courage to mortals. It may b.2 well and good for people to refer to their operation as something to jest about; but, for the life of me, I cannot, and never will see the funny side of having my stomach opened. Get this straight though. I can hold my own when it comes to a fistic encounter, and maintain a sweet and even disposition, and courageously suffer th2 pangs of hunger, if needs be; but to be opened up without any say m the matter, ugh! My inborn disinclination toward operations, saddened my once cardre:~. existence, and cast gloomy shadows on my innocent recreations. Within a month, four intimate friends of mine had gone to thz slaughter, and had th2ir obnoxious appenda·ges removed. Tfo:y won my sincere respect and admiration when they jestingly narrated the opening-up process. I ·took heart from their true ·2Xperiences, and after due consultation with my parents and other branches of my family, it was unanimously agreed that my appendix had to be removed, severed, separated, operated and kindred synonyms. Being of a loquacious nature, I poured my fears, misgivings and appreh?nsions on sympathetic ears until the subject became an ~b session. Formerly compassionate and condoling Gautra, Com. '29. ears suddenly turned deaf. Nothing daunted, I still broached the subject, hoping, in desperation~ that the appendix would crumple up and di·e from too much publicity. Appendages, how.?ver, seem to thrive on advertisement, and I realized that no amount of talking could substitute for an operation. Things ca+me to a sudden and unexpected head. The appendix clamored for attention, thereby obtrusively paining my side. In a panic, I was rushed to the hospital. and after a thorough examination of the unruly area, the attending surgeon seriously announced that the appendix would have to com? out next morning at eight. "Tomorrow at eight," he had said in the most perfunctory manner. I was surprised at my nonchalant feelings. Little did I know that it was the treachzrous calm before the turbulent storm. The night before "tomorrow" passed uneventfully, except for thz food and the usual enemas. Of course the hospital pyjamas were anything but in keeping with my idea of the width and cut of my clothes; but then, on the eve of momentous moments men seldom find fault. "Tomorrow" dawned beautifully and serenely. I rebelled against the thought that my appendix should spoil such a lovely day. The very thought started th-2 little chills up and down my spine with which I was to be harassed for the next hour. The long and seriousfaced nurses, who were to escort mz to the operating room, did not lessen the now constant up-and-down chills. Once in the operating room, I was laid on the operating table, and without consulting me, my hands and feet were strapped to the table. By this time my extremities were cold, in fact, they were numb. After the injections, I had a weak and sickly feeling, but the appendix must have been frightened, for it had ceased annoying me. I had but a faint and hazy memory of that awful half hour in the whit·? rooltn. I, do re136 GREEN AND WHITE member having bestowed a sickly smile on the surgeon, and I do remember regretting my having been p0 2rsuaded to remain conscious during the bisection. All things have an end, though, and the knife-inclined surgeon must have tired of his pastime, for he finally sewed me up. All I had to do now was to get well. My recovery would have been the simplest thing in th2 cutting process, except for the ravenous appetite of the patient in the other wing of the hospital across from my room. He would munch pieces after pieces of bread, and .2at the most appetizing victuals. How I longed for his digestive organs! Even my dr::•::i~ wc~2 haunted by his seemingly insatiab!-2 hunger. His gormandizing whetted my senses to emulate him. I tried bribing, cajoling and thr.2atening my attendants to bring m2 food, food and again some more food. Alas, all to no avail. With a firm resolve to catch up with my eating, when the surgeon discharged me, I forgot the matter and turned all my energies toward a speedy recovery. It is surprising to note that my fri.2nds, far and distant relatives, and parents, treated and spoke to me with a certain consideration to the point of being embarrassing. Being commercially inclined, I naturally took advantage of their eager-lto-hdp attitude by little requests ranging from a package of "Luckies" to a woolen suit. What a whale· of a difference an operation makes. Being of a loquacious nature, I look forward t:J the day when I can once more pursue my stenographic duties, and distress my friends with stories of my indomitable courage, and smiling nonchalance during my major appendix operation, enlarging on the difficulty of locating the unruly appendix, which is a lot of "hokum," but which is the way of all flesh. Fate By Salvador J. Mendoza, Comm. '31. He fails, he whines, and fate he blames, He succeeds, he exults, the honor he claims. But to whom is failure or success due? For sure not fate but it is you .. ~MAN'S conceit and vanity make him "(t l' declare, with an air of despondency, ~ when he is in the neap-tide of misfortune, or when h2 fails in an undertaking, "Oh it is fate." Seldom does he rise to that grandeur of pointing to himself, and asserting with an indomitable courage aJ?.d dignity, "It is I who am a failure." But when he succeeds, and is made to sip the intoxicating cordial of popular homage, and becomes the cynosure of the world, he exults, puffs out, and urged by Daime Vanity d.2clares, "I am the sole person who is responsible for my success." Both are types of conceited men who see only through . the blinding cloud of false pride; but at least, th2 second helps in bringing to light the truth that self is the determining factor in the building of one's destiny. When you fail, why blame fate? What is fate? At first it is nothing but the immaculate white canvas of a painter call.2d self. What shall be on th2 canvas will largely dep2nd on the ability of the painter. In the good olden times, and even at pr.2sent palmistry was, and is practised. For me it is absurd and illegal except for one redeeming featur.2; and that is, it does the reading of one's fortune through the palm, and then unconsciously admitting :he fact-that in one's hand · shall his fate be. God is just and simple. "He made and loveth all." Unlike human creatures H~ has no favorites. He endows every man with all the necessary tools and materials for making the most of his life, and for which .2very one must be thankful. Jus:ice prompt~ Him ju~t