Excerpt



CHAPTER ONE

Surgery



There are certain days in our lives that stand out beyond all others. For my husband, Fred, and me, July ninth, 1965 was one.

The day began early. Before sunrise I shut off the alarm, although there had been no need to set it. Id been awake for hours, lying in the quiet, thinking. Fred still slept and I decided not to disturb him just yet. The day would be long enough.

I arose, put on my robe and slippers and tiptoed into the hall. Our daughter Nancys door was open. Open before daybreak after so many years of being closed. Each morning I would knock and say, Time to get up. Youll be late for school! Or, Wake up, Nan. Stephanie will be here before youve even had breakfast!

Not today. Today there would be no usual routine, no usual anything. Nancy was done with her schooling for awhile and she wouldnt be going anywhere with Steph for many months to come. I stood in her doorway and glanced beyond to the emptiness. The hall light played on the big double bed made up neatly with its white hobnailed bedspread. The whole room was neat and empty and all too quiet.

Turning from the emptiness, I went straight down the hall to the kitchen, trying to push worry aside on the way. Worry only led to exhaustion. From here on in I knew I would need all my strength.

Soon my iron skillet was sputtering and sizzling with frying bacon. I had little appetite, but knew I needed to eat something. I hoped Fred would eat too. We had a long day ahead of us. Nancy was scheduled for eight a.m. Harrington Rod surgery to correct the 50-degree thoracic / 70-degree lumbar curves in her spine. We planned to be at the hospital long before that.

From my kitchen window I could see not one light on anywhere on our street. I squeezed oranges, made toast, set the table, then stood before the window again. There were several lights on now. Our world was slowly waking up.

The ficus tree on our front lawn was barely visible as the hint of morning began in the eastern sky. In the eight years we had lived here the tree had grown like Nancy. One day a tiny sproutling, then whoosh, up, up, reaching for the sky as we reached for our dreams. But now, our dreams would have to wait.

Hey. Freds voice snapped me back to the kitchen. Dont burn my bacon. He entered the room and gave me one of his bear hugs. I felt the comfort of his presence, his quiet strength.

The sun was just above the horizon as we started the twenty-five miles to Miamis Variety Childrens Hospital. We rode in silence. There were times when words were unnecessary. I sat close to Fred, feeling the warmth of his shoulder, feeling the love we both had for our child transmitted from him to me as if in one being.

When we arrived at the hospital, Nancys door was closed and we were asked to remain outside for a few minutes until the prepping for surgery was completed. Fred leaned against the wall opposite her door. I stood beside him. One minute. Two. Five. We waited.

Its all right to go in now. A figure in starched white hurried out and past us.

We entered and saw our seventeen-year-old daughter leaning back on white hospital sheets. She saw us and propped herself up on one elbow.

Hi, mom. Hi, dad.

How goes it? Fred asked.

Fine, dad.

I kissed Nancys forehead and sat on the side of her bed. Fred pushed a chair close and sat down. We each held one of her hands, something she would never have allowed under ordinary circumstances. At nearly eighteen you simply didnt hold hands with your parents. Today she didnt mind though.

She squeezed our hands, then looked up at the ceiling as she leaned back against the pillow. Ooee. I feel as if Im floating.

The relaxant was taking effect. Words said now would drift away. She wouldnt remember. Nevertheless we talked. Nancy most of all, chattering on as if she were the most vibrant of conversationalists.

Stephanie was here after you guys left last night. You know how Steph is. She had me laughing til my stomach got sore. The nurses spoke to her, but I told her not to mind them.

We nodded. She continued, her voice softer and her run on words a bit slurred.

Oh, mom, dad. Dr. Keiser is so nice. He really is. The nurses are a little scared of him cause he wont stand for any mistakes. But all the kids love him.

We heard a squeaking sound and looked toward the door. The moment we dreaded had arrived. Two aides rolled a narrow stretcher in and alongside the bed. One of the nurses entered and tucked Nancys hair up into a surgical cap until every wisp was out of sight.

There now, she said, squeezing Nancys arm. Youre ready for a grand entrance.

Fred and I let go of Nancys hands and stepped back out of the way.

The aides echoed the nurses theme, Come on, honey, they said. Lets get this show on the road.

With quick, efficient hands they transferred Nancy from the bed to the stretcher. We followed, as they wheeled Nancy out into the hall, then walked alongside as far as we were allowed.

Fred leaned over first and took her hand. Your mom and I will be right here. See you in a little while. Okay? He kissed the top of her head.

Okay, dad, Nancys words came out slowly.

Fred stepped back and I went to her, praying I wouldnt cry. What could I say? I touched her cheek. Flushed and warm, her face was a contrast to the whiteness of her hospital gown and sheets. White. White like the two Angel Wing shells in the shell box in our living room.

I leaned over and whispered, Remember.

What, mom? she asked, groggy from the medication.

The two Angel Wings, I said.

She smiled, looked up at her dad and me and whispered, Two Angel Wings.

The aides nodded, then continued to push the stretcher through the double doors leading to the surgery wing where Dr. Keiser was waiting.