“Well,” Deanne said as she stood up. “I think I’ll go back up to oncology. Maybe I can talk to Matt again.”
“Have fun,” Susan urged. Then she added, “See ya tomorrow.”
Deanne went up to the fourth floor and began looking for Matt. She found out at the front desk that he was assigned to room 438, bed A. But he wasn’t there.
“He’s down in chemotherapy,” Renee Stewart offered. “I’m glad you came back on your own time, Deanne,” she added. “He should be up shortly. The treatments often make him sick to his stomach. Sometimes it’s nice to have somebody to talk to or play a game with . . . you know. . . to keep the patient’s mind off the nausea. Can you wait for him?”
“Sure,” Deanne nodded. “I’ll be glad to hang around and wait. I’ll get some board games out. Maybe he’d like to play something.” Deanne paused. Then she cautiously asked, “He seems like such a nice guy. He is getting well, isn’t he?”
“Matt Gleason?” Renee asked. “He’s one of the nicest kids on the floor. Always has a smile and a friendly word. Do you know he sometimes sits for hours with some of the younger kids after their treatments when they’re real sick, just so they won’t be alone. Matt’s a real giver; no matter what he’s going through.”
“As for him getting better, well, this is his third relapse since he was diagnosed with cancer five years ago. He’s getting some new drugs, experimental medicines that have been useful against his type of malignancies. When he first checked in, we didn’t think he’d make it through the summer. Now, we just don’t know.”
* * * * *
“You up to a friendly game of Scrabble?” Deanne came up to Matt as he sat in a wheelchair in the rec room.
He looked up at her. Her heart skipped and her stomach fluttered. He looked so pale and ill. “You up to me beating you?” he asked weakly, trying to smile.
“Beat me?” Deanne cried in mock horror. “I’ll have you know, I could beat you, blindfolded.”
“You sure talk a good game,” Matt whispered. He gripped the arms of the chair as a spasm swept over his body.
Deanne hurriedly sat down at the table and began spreading out the Scrabble board and letter holders. “Here,” she said, offering him the bag of letter tiles. “Let’s draw for first.”
His hand was shaking, but he pulled out a letter. “It’s a C,” he said. “Can you beat that?”
She rummaged through the tiles and pulled out an X. “Hmm,” she said. “I guess you’re first.” She paused, “But I’m still going to beat you.”
“I want you to play your best,” he warned. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me and let me win.”
“Are you kidding?” Deanne protested. “I intend to trounce you. After all, I am a Vandervoort. I have a tradition to uphold.
We Vandervoorts show no mercy.”
“Good,” Matt smiled weakly. “Because we Gleasons are fighters. I like being the underdog.” He leaned closer toward her. “It makes the pretty girls feel protective of me.”
Deanne blushed. “I am not a pretty girl,” she said. “But I am a smart one. And I can’t play my word until you play yours. So, get going.”
They played for almost an hour. It was a good game. Deanne found him to be both competitive and smart. But she did win. “Not too shabby,” Matt commented while she put away the board.
“Thanks,” she smiled. “You weren’t so bad yourself. You almost killed me with ‘zither.’ You got thirty-six points for that word alone.”
“Are you going to give me a chance to get even?” Matt asked.
“Of course I will,” Deanne smiled. “I work tomorrow. I’ll be up here for the afternoon rec program. Maybe we could play then.”
“Suits me,” Matt said. “Maybe I’ll read a dictionary before I go to bed tonight.”
“Hey! Gleason! The supper trays are coming up. You eating?” A dark haired nurse called from the doorway.
“I don’t know. . . ,” his voice trailed off. “I’m kind of tired.”
“You need to eat,” the nurse chided.
“I have an idea,” Deanne said quickly. “I need to eat supper, too.” Her mind raced. If her dad wasn’t ready for another half-hour, she could stay with Matt and encourage him to eat. Her mother would kill her for not eating at home, but it would be worth it if Matt would eat some of his food.
“Why don’t I get a sandwich out of the machine and join you for dinner?” Deanne asked. The nurse caught on immediately.
“Great idea!” she added. “I’ll even bring you a can of pop from the floor’s private refrigerator.”
“I could have my tray in here,” Matt said thoughtfully. “I hate to eat alone.”
“Good,” Deanne said, jumping up. “It’s settled. Let me go down to the sandwich machines and I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll bring in your tray,” the nurse told Matt.
Out in the hall, she turned to Deanne and said, “Thanks a lot. It’s really important that he eats. After chemotherapy, it’s kind of hard to think about food. It’ll help to have you eat with him.”
“Sure,” Deanne said. She felt happy inside. She was glad to help Matt any way she could. But more than that, she realized that she liked him a lot. He was so nice.
“And he has cancer,” she told herself quietly. But she didn’t want to think about that right now. She just couldn’t.
* * * * *
“But, Deanne, it’s July Fourth weekend. The Cortlands have invited us to their place at the beach. We’ll have such a good time,” Mrs. Vandervoort said happily.
Deanne squirmed on the Victorian sofa and twisted her hands in her lap. She hated the formal living room, the Victorian sofa in particular. The fabric was scratchy and uncomfortable.
“I know, Mother,” Deanne said. “But Dad can’t go. He’s got to stay at the hospital.”
“All the more reason for you to come along,” her mother stressed. “We’ll go swimming and sailing and we’ll play tennis. Besides, Judson will miss having someone his own age—”
“Mother, Judson doesn’t even know I’m alive,” Deanne said. “No. I just don’t want to go. The hospital will be short of volunteers and regular staff, too. They need me.”
“Deanne, you can’t lock yourself away in that stuffy old hospital all summer! You’re there morning, noon, and night already. This whole summer is slipping away and you haven’t done anything that’s fun for a girl your age. Now we both have the chance for a wonderful, few days vacation,” said her mother.
“But, Mother,” Deanne said as she stood up and began pacing around the room. “Honest, I’m having a terrific summer! I have tons of friends at the hospital. You know my best friend, Susan. And all the nurses—and some of the patients—they’re all my friends. I LIKE working at the hospital. I’d just be thinking about everybody the entire time I was away! What kind of company would I be at the Cortlands’ anyway?” Deanne paused to catch her breath.
“There won’t be anyone here, Deanne,” Mrs. Vandervoort tried again. “I can’t come running to pick you up. You’d have to be on your father’s schedule. If he’s stuck there at the hospital, then so are you.”
“That’s all right,” Deanne said eagerly. “I know everybody. I can get in the cafeteria, rest in Dad’s office, even shower and change if I have to.”
“Oh, honestly!” Mrs. Vandervoort said, throwing her hands up in defeat. “How can I convince you that your entire life is slipping by and you’re not having any fun?” She paced across the plush carpets and stopped in front of the colonial fireplace.
“All right, Deanne,” she said. “I’ll discuss it with your father. If the two of you want to stay here over the July Fourth holiday, then fine. I’m going with the Cortlands and I plan to have a wonderful time!” Her mother turned and left the room.
Deanne plopped back down on the sofa. She felt tired, tired of always arguing with her mother, tired of being forced into a mold she hated. The hospital was all she really cared about, the
hospital and Matt. He was a good friend. So was Susan.
But Susan wasn’t “socially acceptable” and Matt had cancer. Her father understood when he wasn’t too busy to listen. He knew what it was like to be involved with people.
She asked him about Matt one day, about the treatments and his future. “I’m not personally acquainted with the case,” her father had said. “But the first rule of nursing and doctoring is to never get personally involved with your patients. Sometimes it happens. But, the rule is: Don’t do it.”
Deep down in her heart, Deanne knew that she had broken the first rule.
Seven
“You’ve lost weight,” Matt said, more as a comment than a question. Deanne shrugged and leaned over to straighten up the blanket on the empty bed next to his.
“Yeah,” she said, “a little.” Secretly, she was excited that he’d noticed. She had lost ten pounds since the beginning of the summer. Her VolunTeen uniform pants were a size too large and she had to put on a belt to keep them from falling down.
“I’m sure looking forward to today,” Matt said aloud. “You’re going to like my parents and my sisters and brother.”
Deanne smiled and nodded, but she was nervous. It had been Matt’s idea to have a picnic on the hospital grounds for the Fourth of July. His doctors had thought it was a great idea. So, he told his mother and she packed up a picnic basket for them. Now they were on their way to the hospital to meet him. Matt’s family had a summer home on a lake about fifty miles from All-Children’s Hospital. They called often and came to visit once a week.
“Of course, you’ll come, too,” he had told Deanne when the picnic became official.
“Oh, no,” she protested. “It’s just for you and your family. I’d just be in the way.”
“That’s dumb!” Matt had said. “I want you to meet my family. Besides, you haven’t got a better offer, have you?”
Deanne had blushed. “No, it’s just that I don’t want to, you know. . .”
“No, I don’t know,” Matt had said. “My mom makes the best fried chicken in the world. My sisters are dying to meet anyone who has beaten the Great Matt Gleason ten straight times in Scrabble. Come on, we’ll have a good time. I promise.”
Deanne had finally agreed. Now they were both waiting for his family to arrive and go to the small pond near the oak trees on the west side of the hospital. Deanne was both excited and nervous. She knew by the way Matt talked about them that his family was pretty special to him. She wanted them to like her.
“Matt!” A little blond-haired boy of four bounded across the room and took a flying leap into Matt’s lap.
“Anthony!” Matt cried, rubbing his hands through the smiling child’s white hair.
“Matt! Can I ride down with you in your wheelchair?” the boy cried, plopping into Matt’s arms and touching the chair’s big silver wheels.
“I think I could arrange that,” Matt smiled. “What do you think, Deanne? Can you push us both?”
“Gee, I’m not sure,” Deanne teased. “Maybe if Anthony promises to sing on the way down . . .”
“I will! I will!” Anthony shouted.
“And I’ve got news for you both,” Matt said. “Just as soon as we’re outside, I’m walking!”
Just then the rest of Matt’s family came into the room. Once again, Deanne was struck by their strong resemblance. Everybody began talking at once.
Finally, Matt shouted, “Hey, wait a minute! Let’s keep it down. There’s someone here I want you to meet.”
Deanne’s eyes swept over the handsome group as Matt introduced her. His mom, Janet, was petite and pretty. She had short, dark hair and laugh lines around her eyes. Deanne liked her right away. His dad, Chuck, was a big man, with close-cropped hair and large, expressive hands. Deanne could see where all the kids got their beautiful eyes. His eyes were a deep, penetrating blue.
The oldest sister was thirteen-year-old Tina, then came ten-year-old Theresa. Next she met Janette, who was nine, and Patricia, who was six. All of them had sandy-colored hair and bright blue eyes. Deanne couldn’t remember seeing a more attractive, friendly, outgoing bunch of people.
“So glad to finally meet you, Deanne,” Janet Gleason said warmly. “Matt’s told us so much about you. We really appreciate all the personal time you’ve spent with him.”
Deanne blushed and smiled. “So, when’s lunch?” Chuck Gleason asked. “I’ve been smelling that fried chicken all the way here from the lake house, and I’m starved!”
“Me, too!” Anthony chimed in. “Then, let’s go!” Matt called, pushing his chair toward the door.
“Wait for me,” Deanne said as she grasped the handles of the chair. Together, they all went down in the elevator and outside into the warm, sunlit summer day.
* * * * *
Matt was right. His mother did make the best fried chicken in the world. Deanne loved the meal of fried chicken, potato salad, baked beans, watermelon, brownies, and plenty of ice-cold lemonade. Deanne thought she was going to burst. Everything tasted so good!
Two hours later, everyone had settled down to let the food digest. The four younger kids played ball. Matt and his dad went for a walk. Janet, Tina, and Deanne stretched out on the blanket under the shady oak trees.
Deanne couldn’t remember feeling more content. She briefly thought of her mother at the Cortlands’. She started to feel guilty, but she pushed the thought aside. “We’re all having a good time,” she told herself. She was. And she knew her mom would be having a good time sailing. Her father was happy working at the hospital.
Janet Gleason spoke up, “Matt tells me you’re part of the hospital’s volunteer staff.”
“Yes, I am,” Deanne confirmed.
“Is it fun?” Tina asked.
“It’s fabulous!” Deanne said. “It makes me feel busy and useful. I hate sitting around doing nothing all summer.”
“I don’t think I’d like to be around sick people all the time,” Tina sighed. “What with Matt and all . . .” her voice trailed and she sniffed loudly.
Immediately, Deanne knew what she meant. “You don’t think about how sick a patient is,” Deanne told her. “You just think about how you can make him feel better.”
“I can’t stand to see Matt hurting,” Tina continued.
“Matt’s been sick for a very long time, Deanne,” Janet said, patting Tina. “On again, off again. In the hospital, out of the hospital. He’s well for months and then back for more radiation, chemicals, spinal taps . . .”
“Sometimes,” Tina started, “I used to hate him.” She paused. “Mom and Dad were with him all the time. My aunt and I were in charge of the others. It made me mad and I felt guilty, too. I was well and healthy. Matt wasn’t.”
“We have a wonderful minister,” Janet explained. “He’s helped us deal with Matt’s illness, and our feelings about it. I don’t know what we would have done if we hadn’t had him.”
“Don’t you ever get angry with God?” Deanne asked. No one had ever talked to her as if she were an adult, as if she had feelings and thoughts about life.
“Why?” Tina asked. “It’s not God’s fault Matt’s sick. Bad things happen to good people all the time. It’s how the person faces up to the bad things that really matters. Matt’s never hated God because he’s sick. How can I?”
Deanne felt the impact of her words. She looked across the green grass at Matt and his father. They walked slowly. Their heads were close in conversation. Her heart went out to him. Her life was so perfect by comparison. If only she could tell her parents right then how she felt. If only. . .
* * * * *
The hospital halls were dim and quiet. Deanne could hear the hiss of oxygen coming from a room as she walked quietly down the corridor.
It had been such a full, exciting day: the picnic, the walks, and the games of Scrabble and Clue she’d played with the Gleason family. She’d had the best time of her life.
Matt’s family was terrific. She liked them
so much and they all liked her. But all the activity had really tired Matt, so he had gone back to his room and his family had left by seven o’clock.
Deanne checked to see when her father would be ready to leave, but a sudden emergency had put him in the operating room at seven-thirty. She went to his office and tried to watch TV for a while. Then she tried to sleep. But she couldn’t do either.
So, she walked quietly down the halls, drawn like a magnet toward Matt’s room. She slipped inside. She could see his resting form on the bed. Deanne slipped over to the side of his bed and looked down on him.
His arm was laying across his face, covering his forehead and eyes. His mass of curly hair was laying against the pillow. She wanted to let him know how much she cared.
“Don’t go.” His voice startled her.
Deanne jumped back. “Oh, Matt. I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I wasn’t asleep,” he said. “I hate to go to sleep anymore.” He raised himself up on his elbow and peered at her through the darkness. She listened to his husky voice.
“Do you want me to get a nurse? She could give you something,” Deanne suggested.
“No,” Matt said. “You don’t understand.” He paused. Then he said, “When I was a little boy my mom taught me my first prayer. I’m sure you know it. It goes:
‘Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep;
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.’”
“I know that one,” Deanne nodded.
“One night it occurred to me that I could die in my sleep,” Matt told her. “After that, I was so scared of going to sleep. I slept with a light on for months. Silly, huh?”
Deanne said nothing.
He continued. “And now—now I really might die in my sleep. I don’t want to do that,” he whispered. “If I die, I want it to be in the daylight. I want to meet the sun.”
“Don’t talk that way, Matt.” Deanne reached out and took his hand. “You’re not going to die.”
He plopped back down onto the bed. “Could you stay with me for a while?” he asked. “Just for a while. Just until I get to sleep?”
If I Should Die Before I Wake Page 4