Deenie (5 page)

Read Deenie Online

Authors: Judy Blume

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Girls & Women, #Social Issues, #Adolescence, #Self-Esteem & Self-Reliance, #Special Needs

BOOK: Deenie
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"But it's not my fault. He told you that, didn't he?"

Ma acted like she didn't hear me.

Aunt Rae said, "Who wants to stop for a soda?"

Ma heard that because she said, "Let's go home. We'll have something there."

I said, "Ma, didn't Dr. Moravia tell you that it's not my fault?" I wanted to get that straight right away.

"Yes," Ma said. "Yes, he did tell me that."

"Good! Now you can't be mad at me."

"But I don't believe him," Ma said.

"Then you do think it's my fault?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then what?"

"I mean … doctors make mistakes all the time."

Seven

Dr. Griffith's nurse called Wednesday night, saying that someone had cancelled an appointment for Thursday morning and that Ma should bring me in at nine-thirty.

I phoned Midge to tell her I wouldn't be at the bus stop because of an important appointment.

"Another interview?" she asked.

"No, a doctor's appointment."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"I don't know … remember that business about my posture?"

"Yes."

"Well … this doctor I have to see is an orthopedist."

"That's a bone specialist."

"How do you know?"

"Because last year, when I broke my arm, I had to go to an orthopedist."

"Dr. Griffith?" I asked.

"No, Dr. Littel. He was nice."

"I wish I was going to him. At least you could tell me what he's like."

"Don't worry. It probably won't even hurt."

"I hope not. I'll let you know on Friday."

"Okay. Bye."

What really surprised me on Thursday morning was that Daddy didn't go to the gas station. Instead of Aunt Rae driving us to Dr. Griffith's office, Daddy was going to take us himself, which is what gave me the idea that there was something really bad wrong with me because why else did Helen actually talk to me at breakfast? For somebody who was so sick I felt fine. I felt just like always. So I decided I must have one of those weird diseases where you never know anything's wrong with you until the end.

Dr. Griffith's office is in the Medical Arts Building on West Jersey Street. We parked in the lot behind the building and took the elevator up to the third floor. The waiting room was full of people and most of them had some kind of cast on their arms or legs.

We sat in the waiting room until ten after ten when the nurse called my name. Daddy and Ma stood up with me and the nurse showed us into a little office where another nurse told us to sit down. Then she asked us a lot of questions which Daddy answered, things like our address and phone number and what kind of medical insurance we have. When she got to that question Daddy took some cards out of his wallet and showed her the numbers on them. She must have been a good typist because as Daddy answered her questions she typed everything out on yellow forms, without ever looking down at her fingers.

After that the first nurse came back and told my parents they could go sit in the waiting room and she would call them when the doctor was ready to talk. She took me into an examining room and told me to take off all my clothes except my underpants. Then she handed me this white paper thing made like a bathrobe. "Tie it in the back, please. The doctor will be with you in a few minutes." She left the room and closed the door behind her.

I didn't like the idea of getting undressed, but I did. The paper robe was so big I had to wrap it around myself twice. And when I walked it dragged all over the floor.

I waited for the doctor for twenty whole minutes.

I know because I watched a big clock on the wall. It jumped every minute, same as the clocks in school. I checked everything in the room, wondering what Dr. Griffith would do to me, if he ever showed up.

There was a table of instruments but none of them looked too scary. A few looked like different sized scissors. I didn't see any needles or knives, and was I glad! The stool I was sitting on turned around and around and I spent some time twirling on it until I got dizzy. Then I read all the diplomas on the wall. I found out Dr. Griffith's first name is Harold. I also found out where he went to college, where he went to medical school and what year he got out of the army. There was an old fashioned picture of a football team too. I wondered if one of those funny looking guys was Dr. Griffith.

Finally the door opened and this huge man walked in. He was wearing a white coat so I knew he was Dr. Griffith. Another nurse was with him. She had a pin on her uniform saying miss vernon. "Deenie … this is Dr. Griffith," she told me.

Dr. Griffith closed the folder he'd been reading and put it down on the instrument table. "Hello there," he said. "Let's see what Dr. Moravia's talking about. Come over here please, Deenie."

Dr. Griffith is about twice as big as Dr. Moravia and I've always thought Dr. Moravia is pretty big himself. Dr. Griffith looks like a giant. I don't see how he fits through doorways, he's so tall. I didn't move. I just sat there on my twirl-around stool and looked at him.

"Come on, Deenie. I'm not going to hurt you."

"What are you going to do?"

"Just have a look," Dr. Griffith said.

"Really?" I asked, glancing at Miss Vernon. I couldn't tell anything from her expression. She was busy checking her fingernails.

"I promise," Dr. Griffith said.

I stood up and walked over to him. His hands looked big enough to squash a person right in half. He turned me away from him and untied my paper robe. Then he put his hands on my back. They were freezing cold. I tried to think of other things. I asked him, "Were you ever a football player?"

"A long time ago," Dr. Griffith said, pressing on my back. "When I was in high school."

"I thought so. You're in that picture aren't you?" I asked him, pointing to the wall.

"Yes. Third row, seventh from the left. Would you put your hand down at your side please?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," I told him.

"That's better."

"Were you a good football player?"

"I was fair," he said. "Are you interested in football?"

"I'm not sure. I don't know much about it yet. I wanted to be a cheerleader, but I didn't make the squad."

He didn't say anything about that. I thought he would. I thought he'd say, "Well, you can try again next year" or something like that. Instead he said, "Bend over and touch your toes with your hands, Deenie."

"Why does everybody keep asking me to do that?"

"It's a good way for us to see if your hips are even," Dr. Griffith said.

"Suppose they're not?"

"If one is higher than the other it might indicate the problem."

"Oh," I said, wondering what that meant. Dr. Griffith pushed at my side. Then he told me to sit down on the turn-around stool and he looked me over from every angle.

"Now Deenie, lie down on the table please," Dr. Griffith said.

I climbed up onto the examining table. Miss Vernon stood next to me and smiled.

"Legs out straight please," Dr. Griffith said.

"Are you going to hurt me?" I asked. "I'm not I scared but I'd rather know in advance."

"I'm just going to measure you," Dr. Griffith said. I didn't believe him so I was really surprised when he i held a tape measure to my right hip and measured me from there to my ankle. Then he went around to my other side and did the same thing.

"Do I measure okay?" I asked.

"Um … " Dr. Griffith said, as he jotted something down in his folder. "Now, one more thing, Deenie. Come down off the table and stand up straight."

I jumped down from the table and stood as straight as I could. That's when Dr. Griffith did the craziest thing—he came from behind, put his hands on the sides of my face and lifted me right off the floor. "Put me down!" I said. "I don't like that!"

"Sorry," Dr. Griffith told me, "but it's important." He lowered me to the floor and moved me from side to side.

When he was done Miss Vernon asked, "That wasn't so bad, was it, Deenie?"

I knew then that Dr. Griffith must be through examining me.

"Okay," Miss Vernon said. "Follow me and I'll show you to the X-ray room."

She led me down the hall until we came to a room marked
X-ray.
Another nurse was waiting for me there. She said, "Hello Deenie, I'm Mrs. Hall, the X-ray technician, and I'm going to take some pictures of you. You won't feel a thing, so just relax."

Mrs. Hall arranged me into certain positions and she was right, I didn't feel anything. It was just like having a regular picture taken. First she took X-rays of me standing up and then lying down on the table and bending to the side. Each time she got me ready she left the room to stand behind a door with a glass window in it and she'd say, "Take a deep breath now … and hold it until I tell you to breathe again."

All I heard was a little buzzer noise and then she'd say, "Okay … relax."

When she was done with me I got dressed and Miss Vernon came back to take me into an office with a nice orange rug. Daddy and Ma joined me there.

"How'd it go, Deenie?" Daddy asked.

"It didn't hurt," I told him.

Dr. Griffith opened the door and told us to make ourselves comfortable. He was carrying the same folder and when he sat down at his desk he spread it out in front of him. Finally he said, "Well now … Dr. Moravia was right. Deenie has adolescent idiopathic scoliosis."

All I understood of that was adolescent and something that sounded like idiotic.

"What does that mean?" Daddy asked.

"It means she has a structural curvature of the spine which has a strong tendency to progress rapidly during the adolescent growth spurt. Let me show you something," Dr. Griffith said, taking an X-ray out of the folder. He stuck it up on some kind of screen on the wall and when he turned a switch it all lit up and the X-ray looked like a skeleton. He tapped a pencil to the X-ray. "You see here … " he said. "This is Deenie's spine. It demonstrates the curve and confirms my clinical diagnosis."

"I don't understand," Ma said. "Why Deenie … of all people?"

"I can't answer that, Mrs. Fenner. But there is a strong familial tendency."

Ma shook her head. "No one in my family has ever had anything like this. My family's always been very healthy."

"I can't think of anyone either," Daddy said.

"The important thing now is Deenie," Dr. Griffith said. "Not who's to blame for her condition."

"Am I going to die?" I asked.

"Deenie!" Ma said.

But I didn't care that she didn't like my question. So I asked it again. "Well, am I?"

"Eventually we're all going to die," Dr. Griffith said. "But not of scoliosis. I can promise you that."

"Then what's the difference if I have it?"

"We have to correct the curve," Dr. Griffith said.

Daddy asked, "What do you suggest, Doctor?"

"I suggest you see a scoliosis specialist," Dr. Griffith told him. "I can recommend a good man to you."

"Another doctor?" I asked.

"Yes."

"But I don't want to see another doctor! Can't you just fix it up yourself?"

"No," Dr. Griffith said. "I don't handle scoliosis cases."

"What can be done for her?" Daddy asked.

"There are two choices," Dr. Griffith told him. "Surgery or a brace."

I stood up. "Suppose I don't want either one," I said in a very loud voice.

"We have to correct the curve," Dr. Griffith said again.

I was tired of listening to the same old line. So I asked him, "Who says we have to correct it? Why not just leave it alone?"

"It has to be corrected for cosmetic reasons," Dr. Griffith told me.

"Cosmetic?" Ma said, before I had a chance to ask about it. "What do you mean?"

"If the curve isn't corrected it will result in a spinal deformity," Dr. Griffith said.

"You're not telling us that Deenie's going to be deformed, are you?" Daddy asked, while Ma started whispering "Oh my God," over and over again.

"I'm saying her condition has to be corrected in order to prevent such a deformity," Dr. Griffith said. "The sooner the better."

In the car, on the way home, Ma told Daddy, "Your cousin Belle had something wrong with her back … remember?"

"That was different," Daddy said. "She had a slipped disc."

"But I'll bet that's where this came from."

"I don't think so," Daddy said.

"Because you don't want to think so!" Ma told him.

I wanted them to stop acting like babies and start helping me. I expected Daddy to explain everything on the way home—all that stuff Dr. Griffith had been talking about—that I didn't understand. Instead, he and Ma argued about whose fault it was that I have something wrong with my spine until we pulled mto our driveway. It was almost as if they'd forgotten I was there.

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