by Leslie Gould
Caden was still asleep in his travel crib in the spare bedroom when we got ready to leave the next morning. I stood in the doorway and watched Marie stare at him. I could only guess how much she wanted to scoop him up in her arms, but it was only four thirty and she probably hoped, for Aenti Suz’s sake, that he’d sleep for another couple of hours. She blew him a kiss and turned toward the hallway.
Gordon was already on the porch with Marie’s bag. Together, we all stepped out into the dark, and then I followed Gordon and Marie to the hospital so I’d have my car available.
The night air was cold, and I turned on the heat in my car. A star twinkled in the dark sky. I hoped Marie could see it. I wondered what she and Gordon were talking about. I felt a sudden pang of longing for Nick.
We stayed with Marie as long as we could in pre-op. Dr. Turner, dressed in blue scrubs, came in to talk with Marie before they wheeled her into surgery. I quickly introduced him to Gordon and the two shook hands.
“I’ll keep you updated on the surgery,” Dr. Turner said. Then he bowed his head a little and added, “I’ve been praying for you, Marie.” He turned toward Gordon and me. “And for all of you.”
I could tell that we were all touched by his remark. I managed to say thank you because Marie and Gordon didn’t seem able to speak at all.
Gordon kissed Marie good-bye, and then an OR nurse wheeled Marie’s gurney through the double doors and into surgery. Gordon and I headed to the cafeteria for breakfast, and then we settled in the waiting room with our cups of coffee. Although I’d brought my study book with me, I didn’t open it. I couldn’t concentrate on studying, not now.
Just before ten, a nurse came out and told us that Dr. Turner said the surgery was going well and was nearly finished. Hopefully Marie would be in recovery soon, but Dr. Turner would come out and talk to us in person first.
Gordon texted his mom and suggested she go get Aenti Suz.
We waited for Dr. Turner, but he didn’t come out. After an hour, I was beginning to worry.
Finally, he came out, a grim expression on his face.
I wanted to shout, “Is she all right?!” but refrained.
“How is she?” Gordon asked before Dr. Turner could speak.
“Overall, fine. But her blood pressure crashed on the table just as we ended. She’s stabilized now. They’ll monitor her extra closely in recovery.”
I asked about the surgery.
“It was all textbook,” he answered. “No surprises. We’ll have to wait for the pathology report, of course, to find out if the cancer spread. She’s going to be in a lot of pain, but the meds should manage it. We need her to heal as quickly as possible so she can get started on her chemo.”
Gordon and I both nodded.
“I’ll check on her later this afternoon, after my office appointments,” Dr. Turner added.
By the time we reached the recovery waiting room, both Randi and Aenti Suz were there. We waited again for what seemed like an eternity, but then the nurse called for Gordon.
He turned toward me and said, “Come with me.”
Marie was groggy and in and out of consciousness. “Where’s Caden? Is he all right?” she asked in Pennsylvania Dutch.
“Yes. He’s with Jessica. On the farm,” I answered in English.
She opened her eyes wider and threw a leg over the side of the bed. “I should get up.”
“No.” I stepped forward and moved her leg back. “You need to stay right here.” I talked through what was going on with her, telling her that Dr. Turner said the surgery went well.
She seemed to respond to that. Once she was ready to be moved to a room on the post-op floor, I collected Aenti Suz and Randi, and we took the elevator up.
Trying to make small talk, I asked Randi how she was doing.
“A little frazzled. Of course, this is minor compared to what Marie is going through, but I had quite the surprise yesterday,” she said. “I’ve had a pipe burst in my kitchen. I’m afraid I’m going to need quite a bit of repair work done. A new floor. Maybe even a new cabinet under the sink. I have a call in to my insurance company.”
Poor woman. That sounded like a hassle. It also sounded like one less place where Marie could recover. Aenti Suz’s truly was the best option.
Later in the afternoon, while Aenti Suz and Randi were getting a bite to eat, Dr. Turner came into Marie’s room to check on her. She was as pale as her sheets and didn’t look well.
He took a look at the incision. Gordon glanced away, but I stepped closer. It wasn’t hard for me to look at Marie’s body, even as cut and wounded as it was, but I didn’t blame him for being shocked. From what I could see, everything looked all right. Of course, it was essential that the wound be cleaned and cared for to keep it from becoming infected.
After Aenti Suz and Randi returned, Gordon said he would spend the night at the hospital and I should go get something to eat and then head home.
“I’ll ride with you when you’re ready,” Aenti Suz said.
I nodded.
Marie reached for my hand. “Thank you for being here.”
I squeezed her hand as I told her good-bye, in case she was asleep when I returned, and excused myself while Aenti Suz stayed in the room. I ate a sandwich in the cafeteria and then started back. On the way, I noticed the sign to the chapel and decided to stop there.
As I entered, I squinted in the dim light. In the first pew sat a woman wearing a Kapp. Aenti Suz.
“How’s Marie doing?” I asked as I slipped in beside her.
“She’s asleep. Did Gordon tell you I’d be waiting in here?”
I shook my head. “I just decided to step inside on my way to Marie’s room. And here you are.”
She reached for my hand. “I thought when I was younger that life would get easier. First I lost Jake. And then my parents. I thought the hard part was over. Then Rebecca died and Amos left and then Jessica. Then we lost your father.”
“We’re not going to lose Marie,” I said.
She sighed wearily. “It’s just so hard to have her ill, to have her suffering. I’d take her place in a moment if I could.”
I squeezed my Aenti’s hand. “I know you would. So would I.”
We sat there silently for a long moment until I decided, even though I longed to hear more about my grandfather’s story, to ask her about Jake. “Would you tell me about your fiancé?”
She shook her head. “No. But I will tell you more about my father.”
“Here? Now?”
She nodded. “Chapels aren’t a place common to our people. And the hospital in Chicago was definitely an environment my father hadn’t even imagined existed. What better place than right here to tell you more about his time during World War II.”
6
Joe
Lieutenant Shaw said the elevator was too slow, so Joe followed her up the stairs to the third floor, still carrying his bag. He stayed three steps behind her, fearing she might yell at him if he got too close.
When they reached the double doors, he hurried in front of her and opened one.
She stopped a moment and asked, “Where are you from?”
“Pennsylvania.”
“What area?”
Joe squared his shoulders, worried that she judged him harshly for being a conscientious objector, but then immediately chastised himself. He’d never cared before what others thought of him. “I’m from Lancaster County,” he answered.
She frowned a little and said, “I wondered.” She gestured toward the hall and led the way. “Have you worked in a hospital before?”
“No,” he answered. He’d never even been in a hospital.
She exhaled.
“I’m a fast learner,” he quickly added.
“Let’s hope so.” She turned and pushed through the second double door and stepped into the ward. Joe followed. A mix of smells—blood, urine, and even linoleum wax—hung heavy in the air. Beds were lined up on both sides of the ward, filled with soldiers. So
me had bandages wrapped around stumps of arms and legs. Others were in body casts. Many had bandages wrapped around their heads.
“You’ll be bathing and feeding soldiers, dressing wounds, and moving patients. You’ll learn by doing. Don’t take the trauma of each soldier onto yourself or you’ll soon be discouraged and then overwhelmed. Stay upbeat. It’s good for everyone.”
Joe searched the woman’s eyes and saw a flicker of pain.
One of the patients, a young man with an amputated leg, said loudly, “Nurse. Where have you been?”
“Not far.” Her voice had changed. It was more lighthearted now. “You know I’d never leave you.”
“That’s good,” he replied.
Lt. Shaw motioned toward Joe. “We have a new orderly. This is Joe Bachmann from Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.”
“A Dutchy,” a man with both arms in casts called out.
“Be nice. He’s going to be feeding you,” Lt. Shaw countered. “And I’m guessing”—she glanced toward him—“he’s a good man.”
Joe’s face grew warm. Maybe she wasn’t as harsh as he’d feared. But then she added, “Like all of you! Now, we’ll finish dressing your wounds so everyone will be ready for their supper.”
After he stashed his bag and jacket at the nurses’ station, Joe rolled up his sleeves, washed his hands, and followed Lt. Shaw to the supply cabinet. They gathered basins, sponges, gauze, and tape.
“Fill the basins and follow me,” she said, taking the sponges, gauze, and tape in her hands.
He retreated back to the sink, did as he was told, and then carried a basin in each of his big hands, passing the elevator doors. At least he guessed it was the elevator. He’d never been on one—he’d only heard about them. He joined Lt. Shaw at the back of the ward. They were the only nurse and orderly for around forty patients.
“Half of the soldiers had their dressings changed this morning,” she explained. “But now we need to get the rest done.”
The ward was warm and stuffy, even with the south windows open. The sharp scent of the antiseptic turned Joe’s stomach at first, but after a while he became accustomed to it. They worked on the first few patients together as Lt. Shaw showed Joe how to change the dressings. He’d seen plenty of gore on the farm and had attended to animal wounds and injuries in the family, but amputations and open wounds stopped him. He thought of Faith telling him he’d never amount to anything, but he hoped he could do the right thing here. He prayed silently, asking God to give him the strength he needed. He knew he’d try his best, at least.
After assisting Lt. Shaw with several dressings, she sent him to the other side of the room to work on those soldiers.
Once he was away from the lieutenant, Joe chatted with the men, asking where they were from. The first, Bennie, was from Maine. He had an amputated leg. “The bullet hit me in the knee, right in the joint. I waited out on a battlefield in Italy, on the western seaboard, for a couple of hours before the ambulance driver could get to me,” he said. “Our medic had been killed, so I was entirely dependent on the driver to care for me. I’ve always wondered if they would have gotten to me earlier, if they could have saved my leg. I sure do miss it.”
Joe listened attentively to Bennie.
The man continued. “But I was one of the lucky ones. Others all around me died. If we’d had more medics and ambulance drivers they might have been saved.” Joe couldn’t even imagine what the man had gone through, along with so many others. As Joe unwound the bandages around Bennie’s leg, he kept himself from shuddering. The wound was festering and hadn’t seemed to heal properly. Joe didn’t feel qualified to tend it, but he did the best he could, praying the soldier couldn’t discern his horror at the sight of it. The soldier winced, and Joe apologized.
“Not your fault.” He shook like a scared calf, which made Joe feel all the worse.
When Joe finished, Bennie thanked him. Perhaps he could tell Joe was nervous about his work because he said, “You’re doing just fine.”
Next, Joe changed the dressing on a man who had lost his arm at his elbow. His face was hard and his disposition angry. “My brother went down with the Arizona during Pearl Harbor,” he said. “You should be ashamed for not fighting.”
Joe made sure his voice was steady before he spoke. “I’m sorry about your brother. And I’m sorry about your arm.”
“Don’t be,” the man said.
Joe continued on. By the time he finished, he’d forgotten his initial queasiness. In fact, his stomach was growling, but it was time to feed the soldiers their supper. As he washed his hands, Lt. Shaw joined him. He told her Bennie’s wound didn’t look good, and she responded that she’d note it in his chart and ask the doctor to take a look.
The elevator opened, and two orderlies wearing white pants and white shirts pushed carts out onto the floor. The shallow shelves were filled with trays of chicken noodle soup and slices of bread.
“You distribute the food,” Lt. Shaw said, “and I’ll start feeding those who need help. Then you can help me finish up.”
Joe wondered who would have been helping her all afternoon if he hadn’t arrived when he did, but he didn’t ask. Instead, he delivered meal after meal. The slices of bread were all thin, store-bought it seemed, and covered with what Joe guessed was margarine. He’d read about it in the newspaper but hadn’t seen it before. By the time Joe started the second row, men on the first row were already done eating. Bennie asked for more. Joe turned toward Lt. Shaw, but she shook her head without raising it before he even asked.
Joe figured Bennie knew the policy but was hoping he could get more food out of the new guy.
The soup smelled better than it looked. Joe thought of his Mamm’s chicken noodle soup. His sisters made it now, but it was never as good as their mother’s. Of course he’d never tell them that. Here, however, he’d more than welcome his sisters’ soup.
He exhaled after he served the last of the capable patients and then returned the tray. He picked up another one and headed toward the man with both arms in casts.
“Where are you from?” Joe asked.
The man grunted.
Joe dipped the spoon into the bowl. The man was eager to eat and cooperated, taking in spoonful after spoonful. Joe fed him the bread too, all without saying any more.
When he was finished, he smiled at the man, but didn’t receive one in return. Joe took care of the bowl and tray and then moved on to feed the next patient.
The light outside the ward grew darker. Just as Joe finished feeding the last soldier, another nurse came onto the unit.
“Lt. Shaw,” she called out from the nurses’ station. “Who’s helping you?”
“We have a new orderly.”
“Another CO?”
“That’s right.”
Lt. Shaw started toward the nurses’ station while Joe returned the tray and bowl back to the cart.
“I’m going to put you back on nights,” the other nurse said to Lt. Shaw. “And the new orderly—what did you say his name is?”
“Joe Bachmann.”
“I’ll put him on nights too. Starting tomorrow evening.”
“All right.” Lt. Shaw sounded exhausted.
“You can stay and help me get everyone ready for bed,” the other nurse said, “since you won’t have to report in the morning. The orderly too.”
“Oh, don’t make him,” Lt. Shaw said. “He’s been traveling. He just arrived this afternoon.”
“I’ll stay,” Joe said. “Why don’t you let Lt. Shaw go rest?”
“Well.” The other nurse put her hand on her hip. “A real gentleman.” She extended her hand. “I’m Lt. Madison.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Joe said.
“Thank you for your offer, but you should go on down to the basement and find your room. Captain Russell should be back by now. He’ll show you around. Report back here tomorrow at 2200, sharp. In fact, be a few minutes early. We prefer that.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He feare
d he’d just made Lt. Shaw’s load harder instead of easier, as he’d intended. Joe stepped behind the counter to collect his bag and jacket. He glanced down at his new white shirt. It was splattered with blood.
Lt. Madison turned toward Lt. Shaw. “Get started on the meds. I’ll help in a minute.”
Lt. Shaw said, “Yes, ma’am” and stepped toward a cabinet. But then she turned toward Joe. “The cafeteria is on the first floor. Go get something to eat before you report to Captain Russell or you might end up going to bed hungry.”
Joe thanked her and headed to the stairwell, thankful he’d have a chance to work with Lt. Shaw and get to know her better. There was something both foreign and familiar about her.
The cafeteria was crowded with doctors, nurses, orderlies, and other hospital staff. Joe found an empty seat in the back of the cafeteria, slid his tray onto the table, and placed his bag on the chair beside him. Two nurses sat at the other end of the table, joking with each other over the clatter of dishes and spoons. Neither said hello to him. He suddenly felt a wave of homesickness. Everything was so different here. The people. The setting. The chatter.
He quickly consumed his bowl of soup and a piece of the bread that hardly had any taste. The texture of the margarine was odd too, so he swallowed it quickly.
Once he was done, he watched others take their trays to the far end of the cafeteria and slide them into a small opening. He did likewise and realized a crew was washing dishes behind the wall.
He went back to the stairwell and headed down another flight, gripping his bag. Once he reached the basement, he headed down the hall toward voices. An orderly stepped out of a doorway and started toward him.
“Hallo,” Joe said. “I’m looking for Captain Russell.”
“His office is the next one down,” the man said.
The door was closed so Joe knocked. When no one answered, he knocked again, this time louder.
“What do you want?”