Admissions (21 page)

“I’m so sorry,” Dr. Murray says.

“My worst fear came true.”

“That Alexander would be in pain?”

“Yes …I should have insisted …”

“Was Jeff there?”

“He wouldn’t make any waves.”

“Probably not.”

“But I guess I wasn’t any better. How could I sit there for three hours with my little boy suffering and not do something?”

“I think you said you tried. You kept asking for medication.”

“Yeah, but I could’ve done more.”

“You did the best you could.”

“I guess so …”

“What else do you remember?”

“Alexander’s eye was swollen shut with cancer. I took him in for his regular chemo appointment and they had a new nurse. She calls for Alexander and I bring him up to the nurses’ station. She says something like,
Oh my, what happened? Did you fall down?
Everybody looks up. I want to strangle her on the spot.”

“What
did
you do?”

“I said,
No, he didn’t fall down.
But she just won’t let it go.
What happened, honey?
She pretends she’s talking to Alexander. Finally, I say
He’s here for chemotherapy
and she shuts up.”

“That’s terrible,” Dr. Murray says.

“I want to turn around and shout into the waiting room,
My little boy didn’t fall down. He’s not going to get better. My son’s got cancer. He’s going to die!”
I put my hands over my face and cry.

Chapter 44

G
roup is small with Isabel, Beth and Estee missing. I figure we’ll be talking about Autumn’s attack. I give her a hug before she sits down.

“How are you doing, Autumn?” Dr. Murray asks.

“Okay, thanks.”

“That’s quite a shiner you got.” Heidi says. “Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

“As I told you yesterday, Autumn, we’re going to use our group time today talking about what happened. You can start whenever you’re ready.”

“I’ve been on reduced sleep meds for about a week, so I’m waking up from time to time during the night. Thursday night, when I woke up, I felt something.
Am I dreaming
? I rolled over, my eyes straining and bulging into the blackness of our tiny room. Someone breathed close to my bed.”

“Eowww. How scary is that?” Heidi says.

“Very. I couldn’t see. Just a dim gray light came through the transom.
What?
I sat up and pumped my heels against the mattress as if I were keeping myself from sliding down a steep hill. I pushed until my back hit the iron rungs of the headboard.
Estee, is that you?
I mean, who else could it be? The pillow flew at me before I had a chance to raise my hands. She pressed down on my face, bending my neck backwards over the metal rail. It felt as if my head would pop off. I kicked my legs wildly, my clenched fists stabbed at the darkness. Finally, my punches hit home, each one landed with a sickening thud, like tenderizing meat. Ugh, it was so awful. The taut pillow released, I gasped for air.
“You can’t escape. You will meet defeat.
The deep voice hissed into the darkness. I swear, it didn’t even sound like Estee. I shouted at her to stop, asked her why she was doing this. Told her it was me, Autumn. She said,
You can’t fool me. Your tricks won’t work. Help me Lord. Give me strength to carry out your mission.”

“Man alive. I’ve got goosebumps.” I could feel the hair on the back of my neck pop up.

“I shouted
Help! Help!
as loud as I could in the direction of the door.
Attendant …Help
! Then I rolled, using my heels as leverage, reaching and pulling for momentum. I broke free from Estee’s hold, dropped off the edge of the bed, and crawled under it.

“
I’m on to you …invisible or not …Almighty Lord, help me!
” Estee bumped into walls, tripped over beds, babbling some strange language I couldn’t understand. I …ah …Jesus, …I …was so scared.”

“Slow down, take a deep breath. You’re shaking from head to toe,” Dr. Murray says.

“The granite bedpan hit the floor with a loud clatter. Now they will hear the racket and come running. I crouched at the head of the bed, balled up against the wall. Nobody came. The room went quiet, the silence hung over the room like a shroud. I was frozen, my heart thumping in my chest so loud, I thought she’d hear it. I remember thinking,
Where is she?
I didn’t hear a sound. I tried to slow my breathing as I leaned from under the bed. I ran the palm of my hand across the floor. When I felt the curved side of the bed pan, I made my move. I flung it against the door and screamed at the top of my voice,
Nurse, Nurse!

“That’s when she jumped on my arm, pinched at my skin, dragged me from my hiding place.
God is on my side. Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord.
She held my arm and just kept kicking me in the side. I thought I was going to die. Kleenex, please.”

“Then what happened?”

“That’s when the door burst open, the light flashed on. Two attendants stormed the room, grabbed Estee and twisted her arms behind her back. She’s strong; it took four of them to pin her to the floor. They held her while she kicked and rolled. Two more attendants arrived with a straightjacket. I stood in the far corner, plastered against the wall, hands over my eyes. When Estee’s voice got smaller and smaller down the hall, I covered up with my blanket.

“An attendant came in and gave me a pill. She told me Estee would be in protection that night, and probably transfer to Hall 5 tomorrow. Is she? Did they take her to 5?”

“Yes. She’ll be there for awhile. How do you feel about this, Autumn?”

“Just terrible. I know she’s sick, but I cried so hard last night I puked in my bedpan. I’ve been trying to sort my thoughts. I heard my dad’s voice yelling at me when Estee was attacking me.”

“Yes, not only was last night a trauma, it also triggered all the abuse you suffered from your father.”

Four weeks later Autumn comes into group. “Estee’s back.”

“How is she?” I ask.

“Bad. I came into the dayroom from an afternoon walk. I headed toward our usual spot, and I noticed a small slumped figure backlit from the window light. I stopped for quite a while and stared. Then I crept forward, squinting into the sun. The figure turned her head. It was Estee alright. Her curly hair had been shaved; her mouth drooped on one side. Her white hands were clasped in her lap. She was shaking like a leaf. I asked her if she was cold. I rubbed her thin arms. They were no bigger than a twig.”

“Oh, no. Is she able to come to group?”

“Not today,” Dr. Murray says.

“She asked me for a cigarette, but her hands were trembling so badly she couldn’t even hold it. I told her I’d get it lit for her. The attendant was a bitch.
Are you going to supervise her with this cigarette? She’s a fire hazard.
Of course I’d supervise her. She was so pitiful.”

Autumn wiped her eyes. “Her lips wouldn’t even come together when she tried to drag on her cigarette. It burned out while she was still holding it. I took it and held her hand. She nodded off. Later, when she woke up, she had nothing to say. It’s so sad.”

“Estee is seriously ill. She’s having a bad time right now.”

“Jezz, what’s with shaving her head? Monsters,” Heidi says.

“She rubbed excrement on herself in protection. They had difficulty keeping her clean,” Dr. Murray says. “I know it’s heart-breaking to see her like this. We’re doing all we can.”

“What can we do to help?” I ask.

“Just be with her as much as you can. Don’t expect too much from her, try to include her in things. She’s been down before and has rallied. Let’s keep our fingers crossed.”

Over the next two months, Estee improves. The shaking and itching decrease, and her mind seems clearer. Dr. Murray reports in group that Estee’s medication has been reduced. If all goes well, she will soon return to the world of the living.

Chapter 45

W
e look out over the field. The corn husks bend like withered old men marching across the frozen ground in the west twenty.

“Just don’t have the inclination to plow ‘em under this fall,” Carl says. “In the spring, I’ll put the old Massey up for sale—won’t need a tractor if I’m not plantin’. Come with me, Luanne. I want to show you something.”

I follow Carl as he limps along the path leading down to the stream, his boots sliding on the frozen meadow grass.

“A blanket of white’s comin’ soon. Winter time, this farm looks just like it fell off a Currier and Ives print. Then, I’ll be stuck in the house, lookin’ for somethin’ to do. I want you to take this one last walk with me before the path blows over and closes up with snow. You’ll be goin’ home soon …Yeah, here it is. After twenty-three years, that small stone cross there hangs together by the sheer will of God.”

I feel like I’ve been led to a sacred place. Behind the cross, the crystal water rushes over rocks, swirling the river grass, leaving tiny shards of ice, sparkling harbingers of the cold months ahead.

“Hello, my precious. Brought somebody to visit today.” Carl bows his head in the clearing of frozen flowers. “Don’t you worry; I’ll be with you soon.”

“Who is it, Carl? Who’s buried here?”

“Our baby girl, Hope Marie Reinbold.”

I step up beside Carl and put my hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry, Carl.” I can’t help it, I cry softly. I’m not sure if I’m crying for Carl, for his baby daughter, for Alexander, or myself. A deep sadness fills me.

“Here, take my hankie. I’m all cried out. When Judy died, thoughts of her up there in Briarwood Cemetery, little Hope out here by herself haunted me. I’m a foolish old coot.”

“I don’t understand. Why is Hope buried here and not Briarwood?”

“Well now, that’s a simple question with a complicated answer. Let’s go back to campus, have a cup a coffee, and I’ll tell you why.”

We stop in the canteen for coffee, and sit on a picnic table in a far corner of the hospital grounds, near the old barns.

“Luanne, I haven’t told anybody this. But I think it’s time I got it off my chest. Do you mind?”

“No. Please, go ahead.”

“Hope was two weeks old that hot summer night, l946. I spent the day harvestin’ grain, ate a late supper, and fell into bed. The noisy old fan drew in the night air, blowin’ the curtains into the room like dancing ghosts. Me and Judy sprawled on the bed, only our hands touching in our hot bedroom.

“Next mornin’, I woke up early to tend to the milkin’. I looked over at Judy sleepin’ beside me. She was probably exhausted from the night feedings. I stopped at the foot of the bed to say good mornin’ to little Hope, asleep in her bassinet. As I bent to kiss her head, I noticed her labored breathing.
Was the room too closed in, blankets too much?
I touched my fingers to the baby’s chest. Seemed like her heart was beatin’ pretty fast.

“I gently shook Judy’s shoulder and called her name. She sprang up.
What? What is it?

` “
Probably nothin’
, I said. I could see she was upset.
The baby’s breathing seems off.
Judy rushed to the bassinet, snatching little Hope in her arms, bringing the baby’s mouth up to her ear. She bolted from the room, into the bathroom.
Carl, run some cool water in the sink, she’s burning up.
She checked Hope’s pulse, took her temperature.
Temp’s over a hundred.
Mash up an aspirin in a teaspoon of water. Hurry.
Judy fed the aspirin mixture to Hope in a dropper, gently bathed her in tepid water. Even with this, the baby didn’t cry. Judy was a nurse, and a darn good one. I knew she’d know what to do.

“After a few minutes she said,
Carl, we have to call somebody. The fever’s not coming down.

“
Call who?

“
The doctor, the hospital, somebody!

“We can’t do that, hon. They’ll put two and two together. We’ll go to jail. Hope won’t have a home.

“Lord help me. I don’t know what to do!
She wrapped Hope in a receiving blanket, sat down in the rocking chair.
Just wait for the aspirin to work, I guess. Heavenly father, please help our little girl.
She rocked frantically.
Get me a cool washrag, Carl.
She patted the baby’s face, smoothed the damp cloth across her forehead, back through her curly hair. I sat on the edge of the bed, praying. By mid-morning, the fever broke, Hope’s breathing slowed.

“She’s sleeping like an angel,
Judy said as she lowered her into the bassinette. I stood behind her, smiling. We hugged for a long time, hung onto each other for dear life. I asked Judy what happened, but she wasn’t sure. Some kind of infection, cold bug …Looked like it was gonna blow over. I asked Judy if I should go to work. She wanted me there, just in case. I was glad to stay home. I didn’t want to leave Judy alone with a sick baby.

“I needed to get to the barn before the cows blew up. I was done in a couple hours. But, it wasn’t long after, Hope died. She just stopped breathing. Judy blamed herself, said she should have called the doctor. Or maybe she blames me, I’ll never know for sure. I just remember her saying,
Our baby’s dead, and it’s my fault.
I never heard a woman wail and cry like she did. There was no comforting her, but I tried to assure her Hope went straight to heaven. Nothin’ we could do, ‘cept give her a proper burial. And we were on our own with that.

“Next mornin’, we walked through the field to Judy’s favorite spot down by the creek. We worked to clear a spot for Hope’s grave, turnin’ over the grass and removin’ the clumps. I raked the soil smooth, Judy came behind me, stompin’ the ground solid. When we were satisfied, we went back up to the house.

“I spent the better part of the afternoon in my workshop in the barn, buildin’ a simple pine box, finished with a birch cross on the lid. Judy dressed Hope in her baptism gown. At sunset, we said our goodbyes and put the baby in her coffin. I carried her, Judy followed with a bouquet of wild flowers. I placed the tiny box in the grave as Judy read from the family Bible. We placed stones on the freshly turned earth until I could make somethin’ more fitting for a marker.

“We sat on the porch that night well past midnight under a blanket of misty summer stars and listened to the frogs singing down by the creek.”