Dr. Feelgood (31 page)

The vision of Mom and Al consummating their union in that way was impossible to imagine. Can’t ever think of a mom on her back doing the love celebration move. I shook the thought out of my head while rubbing my temple. “I agree. It’s easy to get caught up, though.”

“I’ve never been. Those women who slept with your dad knowing he was married got caught up. I love being with one person,” she admitted.

“I see that.” I glanced at the pictures of her and Al on the living room wall, surrounding pictures of Fonda and me when we were young.

“Makkai, my husband is a good man.”

I spoke low. “Mom, I just want him to take better care of you.”

She looked to see if he was within earshot. “How do you know he’s not?”

“He’s always in that dang garage.”

“He has a hobby that he loves. What’s wrong with that? It’s like therapy for him. Just like when I’m in my garden, or when I’m sewing. I let him be who he is and he let’s me be who I am, too.”

“I’ve seen you walk around here in physical pain, and it worries me.”

“It’s worse for you because you’re a doctor. Everything worries you. If I break a fingernail you’re ready to send me to the emergency room.”

“I’m not that bad. But, are you still having pain under your arm?”

She lifted her arm with ease. “No, that was only for a couple of days after I slipped in the shower and banged my side up against the shower faucets.”

“And the headaches?”

“That was after I drank some red wine. You know me when it comes to red wine.”

“Then why do you drink it?”

“Stubborn, I guess. Makkai, one day I want you and Al to take the time to really get to know each other. Enough years have gone by with you two being misunderstood.”

“What do you mean? How does he misunderstand me?” I sipped again.

“He’s a little intimidated by that fact that you give me money. It makes him feel like less of a man. It’s like he feels as though he can’t take care of his family. He has no kids, no brothers and sisters. I’m all he’s got. And other than him, you’re all I’ve got. I love you both so much. I have two
good men in my life. Give me credit for having enough sense to be with someone who’s a good person.”

“You’re right. And I didn’t know the money thing got to him. He should have told me.”

“He wanted me to tell you. And I finally understood, so I felt I’d do it now.”

“So, you don’t need the money?” I asked, almost giving her eyes of understanding if she did.

“One day I might, but for now, we’re doing fine. We don’t need much.”

I nodded affirmatively. “Well, at least promise me you’ll retire soon.”

“I will. How’s next year?”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Okay.” I turned around and yelled toward the garage. “Hey, Al, what do you say you come on in here and have a beer with us? Tell me all about that shiny new cherry red Impala you went out of town to buy.”

He yelled right back. “Sure, son. I’ll be right there.”

I turned back toward Mom. My eyebrows rose. “Did he just call me son?”

“I think we heard the same thing.”

“Well, I’ll be.”

“By the way, he always comes home at night.” She looked content.

“Right on, Mom. You do deserve that. Every woman deserves that.”

F
irst message, received today at 11:46 p.m.
“Dr. Worthy. You need to come back to the hospital right away. Dr. Taylor needs to talk to you. Just come on back as soon as you can. It’s very important.”

Well, how in the hell is somebody going to expect you to drive a vehicle responsibly with a message like that? Short of hiring a helicopter to airlift me, I couldn’t get back to the hospital quick enough. Luckily the hospital was a lot closer to Mom’s house than mine, but pardon me, Lord, for driving like a madman. Perhaps the word madman fits right about now.

“What is it?” I closed the office door behind me.

“Sit down.” Dr. Taylor was seated.

“Dr. Taylor, just tell me. Don’t treat me like I’m walking into patient services for the first time. What?” I slowly poured myself into a seating position. Her office was large, cold, and drab, and the upholstered chair was un-fucking-comfortable.

She leaned forward. “Dr. Worthy, now, you know
that Dr. Lambert has run quite a few tests on little Baby Askins over the past few days. And I understand that her mother has left.”

“Yes.”

“Well, then I’ll tell you. Even though we haven’t determined what to do about custody, we need to make some serious decisions. And I feel comfort in the fact that we do know you’re the father. The DNA test came back 99.99 percent.”

“Thank God.”

“That’s the good news.”

“Dr. Taylor, don’t do this.”

“Because of the baby’s extremely low birth weight, being born at what we think was just twenty-eight weeks gestation, she’s susceptible to complications in neonatal and beyond. Being that she’s an ELBW infant, we’ve tested for any neurological conditions like mental retardation, and even deafness or any infections or vision problems.”

“Dr. Taylor, please.”

“Dr. Worthy, your baby girl suffers from a clinically significant PDA dysfunction, as you know, patent ductus arteriosus. The conduit between the pulmonary artery and the aorta needs to be closed. The ducts are not constricting. She has a left to right shunt that is causing a loud systolic murmur.”

I sat up straight. My full stomach growled. “Hold up. So you’re saying that a determination has been made that surgical ligation is absolutely necessary? Are you absolutely, one hundred percent sure?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know for sure? I haven’t even been
in on any of the discussions. We can possibly try administering indomethacin and then see if it matures and closes on its own.”

“Dr. Worthy, it’s too late for indomethacin. More than twenty-four hours have passed. It is critical, and will only get worse. She needs an operation right away.”

“Why is it that it took so long to diagnose this?”

“We’ve given it three days to see if it would close off automatically, and it hasn’t. It’s a grade 2/6.”

“I thought you were testing for problems from her mother’s alcohol intake.”

She tapped her pen to the desktop. “We have not detected any long-term or short-term effects from the traces of alcohol that were in the baby’s system. We’ve treated and passed that hurdle. However, her ELBW is more of a factor than anything. It’s even more of a factor than the fact that this woman might be your sister.”

I crossed my arms and sat back. “Dr. Lambert told you?”

“He had to. That is a crucial bit of information. But, at this point, that is moot. We need your permission to operate.”

I sat forward again. “Dr. Taylor. I know I cannot ask you to let me do this surgery. But, please let me be a part of it in some way. Please. I’ve performed a ton of atrial septal defect surgeries before.”

“I wouldn’t even consider that for one moment, Doctor. It is forbidden from a medical policy standpoint, you know that. Way too many emotions involved. And besides, this is all about the health and welfare of this baby, and nothing else.”

“I just don’t want anyone else to … I need to
know who the choices are.” I stood up, walking toward the ninth floor window. Wanting to burst right through it.

“Right now, unless we go outside of the hospital, we have one extremely good pediatric cardiothoracic surgeon on staff. I interviewed him a few months ago before we hired him. I’m thinking of Dr. Thomas Purify.”

I turned to look back at her. “Yes, go on.”

“He’s been a great cardiac pediatric surgeon for fifteen years. As you remember, he was in charge of the pediatric emergency unit set up after 9/11 when he was head of pediatrics at St. Joseph’s for ten years after working at Columbia Presbyterian for five. He graduated from …”

“I know, Johns Hopkins in Maryland.”

“Doctor, he is top notch. He has received cardiac quality awards for excellence his entire career.”

“But, can’t we just wait and see if …”

“The goal is to save her life. If left untreated …”

“The pressure in the pulmonary arteries might be so high that it’ll induce changes on its own.”

“And at that point, congestive heart failure will develop.”

“But, I’ve seen and heard of cases where it corrects itself in a few months.”

She stood up and came around to back up against the front of her desk. Her arms were folded at her waist. “Ninety percent of the cases close. Unfortunately, she’s among the ten percent that won’t. Makkai, she needs surgical closure. Time is not on our side. Now, I know I’m singing to the choir here, but we don’t want pulmonary edema to develop
in the meantime. You need to turn this over to Dr. Purify.”

“Can I see the EKG?”

“You can. But, with all due respect, as you are aware, pediatric cardiology is a little bit different. And at this point, I have to treat you like the father of a patient with a congenital abnormality, because you are. Now, I know this is tough on you, but we need to get things going.”

I paced to the other side of the room. “Damn, this affects one in two hundred preemie babies, and my baby is the one.”

“It is the way it is. Now, let’s deal with it.”

The thoughts in my brain did not match the emotions from my heart, but I had to make a choice. “Have Dr. Purify handle the procedure right away.”

She walked back behind her desk and started writing as she sat down. “I will set it up right now.” She glanced my way as I headed toward the door. “And, Dr. Worthy, you made the right decision. Please try and think positively.”

“Right now, I can’t think anything.” I walked out as I closed her office door.

I leaned against the wall just down the hall, looking up at the ceiling.

I took my phone from my pocket as I walked. “Mom, they’re about to operate on her. It’s her heart.”

“Son, we’re on our way over.”

Mom and Al and Mary Jane and I huddled in the small, blue and white pediatric waiting room with another family. We barely said more than hello to them, and to each other. The television watched all of us. Some old episode of
“Mayberry RFD.”
Mary Jane, no longer on duty, still wearing her uniform, sat next to me in the adjoining vinyl seat, holding my hand, with her head on my shoulder. My concern about fraternizing seemed minute. Mom paced back and forth, having never taken off her heavy black sweater, arms crossed and head tied in a brown scarf. She clutched her small black Bible to her chest. Al sat across from us reading an old issue of
Hot Rod
magazine. I couldn’t get my mind off the fact that my baby girl was hooked up to a heart–lung machine, just as I had used on so many patients before. It broke my heart.

“Dr. Purify?” I said as a question, standing up promptly as the silver haired doctor walked into the waiting room.

Looking unshaven, he had his surgical mask pulled down past his chin. He still had on his surgical shoes. “Dr. Worthy. Is this your family?”

“Yes. How is she?” Small talk was intolerable to me.

“She’s tiny, and she’s going to need some time
in here still to gain some weight on her little body, but, we tied off the ductus and it was a huge success.”

I closed my eyes, and then spoke as I opened them. “Thank you, God.” I felt Mary Jane hug me around my waist.

Mom placed her hands in a prayer position as she smiled out loud. “Hello, Dr. Purify. I’m the grandma. How complex was it, I mean the procedure?”

“Hello. We made a tiny incision between her ribs and left side. You might need to watch for signs of infection and bleeding, or even fluid around her lungs can be common. Most go home in a few days, but like I said, she still needs to receive intravenous nourishment beyond the standard time frame.”

I put my hand on his shoulder. “Dr. Purify, I had no idea that when you were hired, I’d be standing on this side of your skills. I thank you with all my heart. I owe you big-time.” I shook his hand with fatherly appreciation.

He squeezed my hand tightly. “No problem. I have a daughter of my own. I’m sure you can see her in a few hours. She’ll be in recovery, closely monitored until later. I need to head off, but congratulations.”

“Thanks again, Dr. Purify.”

“My pleasure.”

“God really does work miracles,” commented Al.

Dr. Purify spoke as he headed back toward the double doors. “Yes, He does indeed.”

“Amen,” said Mom and Mary Jane together.

F
inally, after six weeks of my baby girl living in a hospital, and after going through a complicated surgery and being pricked, poked, prodded, and cut, she was strong enough to get the green light to be released … to me, her father.

We had an order set by the court to award sole custody to me. And during that six-week period, each and every night, the one person who spent more time with my new daughter than I did, was Mary Jane. She was also the one person I spent more time with. So much, that she had begun moving more and more things in each time she came back over to my house. Her tender and unconditional love of children exposed a whole new side of her. Suddenly, I couldn’t get enough of her.

“Baby, slow down,” she begged while panting as I lay upon her in my four-poster bed. Soft sounds of
“Overjoyed”
by Stevie Wonder escorted our movements.

“What?”

Sweat covered her face. “You’re going so fast,
you’re making me out of breath trying to keep up.”

I wiped my own forehead. “Aren’t you enjoying it?”

“I am, Makkai, but wait.”

I downshifted. “Okay, how do you like it?”