Granny begins my dad's story with his birth in 1942:
We were a happy couple with two girls who were anxiously awaiting the new addition to our family. On Sunday afternoon we were blessed with a little boy, and we were especially happy since we had the two little girls age 11 and 7 years.
When our baby was 3 days old, our doctor said he would circumcise him as we had wished. Then that night after my husband left the hospital for home, my doctor came in and said he needed a little blood for my baby. I became very much alarmed and had the nurse call my husband to return. After he was there a while, the doctor came in and closed the door and told my husband and me that he had spent the afternoon there with our boy and now needed blood as he was bleeding. He thought he would be all right now.
In five days we returned home and that afternoon, my husband took the baby back to the hospital because of more bleeding. That was the beginning of many anxious trials, however we were not told then of the seriousness of the problem or what to expect. Being a baby in the house after several years, he was never alone and at every cry was instantly tended to, but despite this, he was a good baby.
When he was a year old he began to walk, and one day one of his legs, I forget which, began to swell, especially in the knee joint. Our doctor made tests, X-rays and found nothing wrong, so he put his leg in a cast from thigh to foot, and then in about six weeks, he removed it. On the way home, he was standing in the car seat and suddenly bent his leg and started screaming. I returned to the doctor and he recast it, except this time we noticed he became very pale and at times somewhat more listless. Then the doctor told us he thought he was a bleeder...
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