I had a stuffed monkey named Minky. He was soft and cuddly and squishy and fun. I loved Minky. I had my surgery and then recovered and then we were to fly back to Spain. I have no idea where we flew out of... maybe Dulles, but I'm not sure. It was a military transport, but that doesn't mean anything. And hey, this was back in 1982, so who the heck knows. Anyway, we had to take a bus from the terminal to the plane and then walk up stairs to the plane. I got onto the plane and then realized that I'd left Minky on the bus. I was devastated. Hysterical. And my poor mother tried and tried and tried to get Minky back, but he was never located. *sniff* Then she had to fly for 8 hours with me hysterical. Sometimes, my mother really was a saint.
Several months later for my birthday, or Christmas or Chanukkah or whatever, I got a bear made by the same manufacturer, who was exactly the same color and felt the same except he was fatter and therefore denser. My parent's wouldn't let me name him Minky. They thought I needed to "move on." So I named him Binky. I was very original.
When I was 12, I had my second eye surgery. I brought Binky with me. They even let me take him into the OR. Binky had one flaw... some of his fur fell down over one eye after years of abuse. Not sure how it happened. But after I woke up from surgery, Binky was cured. Binky had surgery too. Not sure how they fixed it... didn't look like they cut it, but I'm not sure what they could have done.
I didn't bring any stuffed animals with me to my third or fourth eye surgeries.
Sometimes I remember the strangest things.