A Love Story with a Little Heartbreak

by Thomas John Dunker

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Ruby and Henry had been waiting on a wooden bench in the hallway between emergency admittance and the main hospital rooms for hours, with a view of the main door into the hospital’s section of operating rooms. A horrible, horrible night was coming to a close, but the nightmare continued and would for a long time. How long? Years? Maybe years. Maybe a lifetime. The frosted window panes that were arranged in a geometry of small glass blocks at the top of the wall opposite from them went indiscernibly from black to gray to white as the sun rose on another desperately cold winter day.

  Both were exhausted, crestfallen, and wrung out like an old dish rag after its last tub of pots and pans at a cheap diner. Sleep provided snatches of mercy while they waited patiently and forlorn on the hard seat of the bench for word from Dr. von Hoerner. Henry looked at his watch and estimated that von Hoerner was finishing up his sixth straight hour in the operating room, working on Connie every minute. The agony of waiting took its toll, but both Ruby and Henry knew that Connie was still alive as long as the doctor was still in the operating room. They waited patiently—there was nothing else they could do, nothing else but pray, and pray they did, for hours.

  Ten minutes into the growing light of another cold day, Ruby and Henry’s neighbors, Ike and Isabel Luick, walked through the hospital’s doors and spotted Ruby and Henry sitting alone on a bench, their sorrowful state of despair accentuated by the long, starkly lit, sterile hall of the hospital, which was cut up by the harsh shadows from ceiling lights that were as big as street lamps, setting up a contrast between the hardness of the hospital’s interior and the softness of the these two souls. They hurried over to the exhausted, rumpled couple they had known all their lives. Chilton was a small town, and just about everyone knew everyone else, and just about every adult who had grown up there was a friend of everyone else who had grown up there.

  Henry looked up, having sensed movement. He rose to shake hands with Ike, extending his hand out, but instead Ike embraced him, and the two old friends just bear-hugged. Henry let a tear escape onto Ike’s shoulder. Isabel moved in to be at Ruby’s side, placing her arm around her and hugging her in the silence of so much grief. No one talked; the pain overwhelmed all four of them, as the foursome sat and shared the long bench. A minute later, Robert Uihlein entered the hospital and approached the foursome. He, too, was an old friend.

  “Hank,” Robert whispered his name. Henry stood up again, drained as he was, and the two old friends embraced. Robert wouldn’t let go; he wanted so badly to absorb his friend’s sorrow into his own being and to do whatever he could to lighten Henry’s heavy heart. He was the only one of Henry’s friends who called him Hank. They had known each other since they were teenagers and said each other’s name whenever someone wanted to know who their best friend was.

  After awhile, the two men broke apart, and with Robert’s motion to him to sit down, he seated himself once again on the bench, next to his Ruby, his head dropped into his hands, bending over to set his elbows onto his knees. Isabel sat on the other side of Ruby, her arms around her fully and gently rocked and cooed softly into Ruby’s ear when she wasn’t saying, “Connie will make it through this, Ruby, don’t worry. She’s strong, and she’ll make it through this,” adding, “and you and Henry will too. God will give you the strength.” Robert remained standing, absorbing more sorrow than he feared he could handle.

  Robert and Ike looked at each other in their shared commiseration over the tragedy. “Did the doc’s wife call you too?” Robert asked.

  “Ya,” Ike replied. Then he tilted his head, indicating that the two of them should walk down the hall a bit. After ten paces of silence, Ike spoke softly saying, “I think the whole town must know by now.” Several seconds of silence passed before he continued. “Marge called just before dawn—woke us up. I told Isabel and looked out the window and saw lights on in Henry’s house and went over there. They had already left… I thought I heard a car pull out in the middle of the night… but I didn’t think nothin’ of it, ya know. Nothing much ever happens in Chilton… I mean nothin’ like crime or this, ya know.”

  “What about Carl’s family?” Robert asked.

  “Jumpin’ Jesus, I’d hate to be the one that delivered that news.” He shook his head. “Such an awful thing. Carl… dead! Gott in Himmel!” he swore, slipping momentarily into the language of his German immigrant parents. He let out a lungful of air through tight lips and continued, “After Marge called me, I think she was going to look into it, ya know, call the highway police and see what they were doing.”

  “I bet Carl’s folks already know,” Robert said. “How could they survive hearing that Carl’s dead? Holy Christmas!”

  “I think the doc’s wife called Carl’s family. Oh ya, I do, Robert. Marge has made those calls before.”

  “I hope I never get another call from her in the middle of the night. It’s no good when the phone rings in the middle of the night and it’s the doc’s wife.”

  “Nope,” Ike agreed, “never is.”

  “You think Carl’s parents are on their way here?”

  “Oh gosh, I don’t see how. They must be… I dunno… I don’t think so. Not now. Maybe later,” Ike sighed.

  Robert cut in, “You mean if there is a later.”

  “Don’t talk like that, Robert! Of course there will be a later. Don’t think there’s any other outcome than Connie bein’ all right. Now dontcha, Robert, dontcha be sayin’ nothin’ like that!”

  “God dammit!” Robert said in a sudden tone of anger, driven as much by fear as anything. “I’m sorry, Ike. Of course she’ll make it.”

  The two men got to the end of the hall, turned, and at that moment, saw Dr. von Hoerner walk into the hallway, approaching the bench where Ruby and Henry sat, with Isabel. He wasn’t wearing his surgical scrubs. Henry jumped to his feet. Ruby and Isabel stood up with him and moved forward to greet him, to get his news, their eyes beading on him, with deeply hopeful expressions on their faces. Ike and Robert picked up their pace and moved quickly up the hall to them, missing the first few words on Connie’s status. They could tell from the reactions that she hadn’t died. No one was convulsive, although no one was smiling, of course.

  “God and Jesus Almighty,” said Robert, turning briefly to Ike, “pray that the news is good!” Ike didn’t have time to respond before the two men joined the foursome. It was time to listen to what Dr. von Hoerner was saying. They stepped in with the doctor’s prognosis underway.

  “… a long time before we can be sure about anything,” said von Hoerner. She’s stabilized, if I can say that, but the accident was so traumatic that… well, I have to tell you, there’s a lot more surgery ahead of her, maybe—I’m sorry—maybe for years. As it is, it’s a miracle that she’s still with us.”

  “Thank the Lord,” exclaimed Ruby, biting hard on her lower lip.

  Von Hoerner continued with his prognosis, “Let’s just pray that she pulls out of this first round of surgeries well enough to get to the next round. Her injuries are extensive. In six hours, we did a lot… had to… so many injuries. Yep, it’s a miracle, I have to say. I can tell you that much.” He paused, but no one said anything, so he continued. He tried to sound more upbeat. “Connie is a tough cookie. Every time I ever saw her for something, she always bounced back. That’s a good thing for someone up against what she is.” He paused again. There were still no interruptions—everybody was hanging on his every word. “I say she’s stabilized, but there’s been a lot of blood loss. We don’t know yet what the outcome of that will be.” That’s when Henry interrupted.

  “Whatdya mean, Doc? What do you mean, ‘the outcome’? She’s going to get out of all this just fine, eventually… right?”

  Remember, dear reader, Ruby and Henry and their friends weren’t at the accident and they weren’t in the emergency room when Connie arrived in a coffin in Vernon Koenig’s flat bed pickup truck over six hours ago. Actually, it was probably a good thing that they
didn’t know everything; knowing would have sucked every ounce of hope out of them.

  Dr. von Hoerner searched for the right words to answer Henry’s question. At a time like that, the right words were very important—he knew that—but he didn’t want to give anyone false hope. “Hard to say, Henry. We’re in pretty tricky territory here. By the time she arrived, she’d lost so much blood… well… there may be some permanent damage. Traumatic head injuries have outcomes that are difficult to predict. That’s down the pike. Too many other things need attention now. She’s clearly not out of the woods and may not be for quite some time. Besides the massive head trauma, just about every bone was fractured… not her spine, though… another miracle… and…,” he paused again, “she lost her left eye for sure.” Then he quickly added, “The other one’s okay,” not wanting them to worry that she had lost her sight entirely.

  “God Almighty in heaven,” Henry muttered, his heart convulsed with the news. He hugged Ruby, drawing her into him, afraid she’d collapse from hearing what the doctor had just said.

  Dr. von Hoerner stood in a moment of silence, looking at Ruby first, then Henry. “I don’t know if I can save her right leg. It’s pretty bad.” He knew that was a huge understatement. “We’ve got it intact at the moment,” he reassured everyone, “but I’ll have to return to surgery in a few minutes and decide… well, I’ll have to decide what to do with that leg. I can’t say for sure if I can save it.”

  Henry cut in quickly. “Doc, you gotta save her leg.” Henry got emotional, although his emotions must have surely been spent. “Don’t cut her leg off, Doc. Don’t do it….” And then Henry surprised everyone by saying, “You cut it off—it’ll be over my dead body.” That was his way of making his point.

  Dr. von Hoerner looked at him earnestly and understood. He had seen great love expressed in strong words like that before, and then he looked at Ruby, so pale and worn. All she could do was look up at him and barely nod her head. He understood everything in her nod: how she felt and what she hoped for, willing him to do his best with all of the energy she had left, which clearly wasn’t much. He turned back to face Henry. “Henry,” he said, “I’ll do everything in my power, but I can’t promise you anything.”

  It hurt him to deliver such news, news that would strain any parent’s heart and push them into realms of disbelief and shock. After a sigh, Dr. von Hoerner said, “There’s more bad news I have to tell you.” Henry froze, waiting for what he expected would be another punch to the gut. He wasn’t sure he could take another one. Ruby, her head down, eyes closed, looked up ready to take yet another rip in her heart.

  “What is it, Doc?” Henry asked, breaking the prelude of silence.

  Dr. von Hoerner glanced at Henry, then taking Ruby’s hands, he led her to the bench and motioned with his head for her to sit down. Isabel sat on one side of her, and Henry took his place on the other side. Ike and Robert remained standing, flanking Dr. von Hoerner. They all looked at him, frozen in pain, awaiting the delivery of more bad news.

  In the softest voice yet, Dr. von Hoerner said directly to Ruby, “She lost the baby.”

  Ruby and Henry’s eyes welled up and released tears that they had been holding back. Ruby covered her face and bent over sobbing. Henry put his arm around her, shocked, but found his voice, “Doc, we didn’t know she was pregnant.”

  “Oh, God Almighty,” said Dr. von Hoerner, “I am so sorry I am the bearer of all this horrible, horrible news.” He paused again, debating whether or not he should share more bad news. But, however painful, they had a right to know. “Her pelvis is broken in six places. It’s very complicated, it might heal, but I doubt she’ll ever be able to have children.” Once again, he said, “I’m so sorry.” No one moved, and there was no sound except for Ruby’s sobbing.

  “I’ve got to get back in there,” he said. “There’s more surgery to be done before I can leave,” he spoke calmly, having regained his professional composure. “Dr. Drake will be joining me and then staying after me for some follow up. She’ll be in the operating room for several more hours. I’ve done everything I can so far… a bit more for me to do, but like I said, Dr. Drake will take over. I’ll be back here in a couple of hours.” With that, Dr. von Hoerner said, “Don’t give up. She’ll make it through all this, yes, she will.” He turned and walked through the doors that led back to the operating rooms, out of the sight of five very distraught people, five people who loved Connie very much and felt such great sorrow for the Koehlers.

  Henry stayed seated, now turned inward toward Ruby with both arms around her, his head against hers. “We’ll stay right here—wait for the doc to come back.” Neither of them could imagine any other option. They wanted to be there for Connie when she came to, and they knew that was a ways off.

  Ike was the first to speak. “I’ll go out and get some coffee and some food for all of us.” Robert looked at him and said, “No, Ike, you stay here with Isabel, and the two of you wait with Hank and Ruby. I’ll go.”

  “Thanks Robert,” Ike responded and looked at Isabel, “We’ll stay with them.”

  “Back in thirty minutes,” Robert said and then walked down the hallway, through the entrance area of the emergency room, and out the door.

  Five minutes later, Dr. von Hoerner was back at the operating table, this time with Dr. Drake at his side. They were surrounded by the emergency team staff, the same individuals that had been with von Hoerner from the start, all united in their mission to save Connie’s life, all anxiously awaiting the appearance of another surgical team, since their energy was almost tapped out. Dr. von Hoerner was nearly spent and, truly, gave it his best. Now he was focused on saving Connie’s leg with a little bit of renewed impetus from Henry. The immediate life and death needs had been met. He was thinking Connie just might make it through this horrendous calamity, but it was too early to hope for too much. Connie had a long way to go; he just didn’t know exactly how long.

  Every place we live has good things about it and not so good things. Most Americans in 1946 were living in small towns, from sea to shining sea, with a lot of farmland in between. America was still defined by its rural life and its small towns like Chilton, Wisconsin. Like it or not, in small town America, everyone knows what everyone else is doing, good or bad, from births and deaths to the kind of underwear a person wears, the latter thanks to backyard summer wash lines. In small towns, news spreads like a wild fire on a dry prairie blown over by warm winds. You learn to live with it, and when it works for you, you can be thankful because you discover how many people really care about you. And you know what? That number is often a lot bigger than what most people think.

  ∞