by Nancy Roman
“I have called and they are waiting.”
Annie started to cry. It was nearly noon, and she was hungry. But Frank - I could not let him do this alone.
“Let’s go,” I said.
And I put the wailing baby on my shoulder, took Frank’s hand, and we followed the doctor across the street and into the hospital and down white corridors to rooms that seemed to be made of steel.
I kissed Frank’s cheek as the doctor and the technician took him into the radiography room.
Then I did the most appalling thing. Right there sitting on a hard chair in the corridor, I unbuttoned my blouse and let the baby nurse. It was disgraceful, I know, but I was desperate. I resolved that should anyone approach me to castigate my reprehensible behavior, I was going to pretend to speak no English.
I think I was so audacious because I was so afraid for Frank. I knew nothing about x-ray science. A machine that can take a photograph of the inside of your body - how could it not burn through your skin? Perhaps it was worse than the mustard gas itself. All I could hope was that Dr. Crane would not cause Frank any further pain.
It was not a long wait. I had no sooner covered myself and changed Annie’s diaper - not knowing what to do with the soiled one, I walked down the hall to where I found a trash container and I threw it away - when Frank reemerged on Dr. Crane’s arm. I was so relieved I jumped up, startling Annie back into a momentary wail.
“Oh, Frank!” I cried, “Did it hurt?”
“No, not at all,” he answered and took Annie from me. She immediately quieted.
We followed Dr. Crane back to his offices. He showed us into a room that was dominated by a large cluttered desk. He did not sit behind the desk, but instead joined us in three very old leather chairs in a corner of the office. Frank still held Annie, and when he took his seat, he arranged her on his lap so that her feet were against his stomach and her head was by his knees. She was fast asleep.
“Doctor,” I began, “if you need to speak to Frank privately, I will step outside…”
“No, please, Lucinda,” said Frank. “The doctor has already given me some of his thoughts, and I’d like you to understand.”
Dr. Crane leaned towards us. He spoke quietly, whether not to awaken the baby or not to alarm us, I was not certain.
“Here is what I see, although there is no way to be sure. But I have had four other patients in very similar circumstances. And I have a colleague in New York who has seen perhaps twenty-five more cases. We are working together to try to discover what has happened and what might be done.”
It was not good news. Dr. Crane and his associate had identified dozens of cases where what had originally been considered minor exposure to poison gas had within one to two years had become serious secondary trauma.
“Do you see,” the Doctor asked, “anything extraordinary about Mr. Giametti’s eyes?”
I had not noticed before, but searching now, I saw that Frank’s right pupil was much larger than his left, as if his right eye was looking into the darkness, while his left eye was adjusting for bright sunlight.
“The separate reactions to light may occur due to several conditions, but one condition with this effect is a tumor in the brain.”
I stared into Frank’s eyes, willing his pupils to be normal, willing myself not to see the abnormality, just as I had not seen it before.
“Given also his severe and progressive double vision” - I shook my head in denial; Frank had never confided this to me - “and the frequent headaches, as well as the lack of any skull fracture in the x-ray analysis…well, when I take all this into account with what we have discovered in the long-term effects of mustard gas poisoning, I do believe there is a tumor, perhaps more than one.”
Frank did not look at me. He stroked Annie’s tiny fingers and said nothing.
“There must be something you can do,” I said. “If you know what this is, there must be some action that you can take…”
“With the patients I have seen, and the others I have studied… as of yet, we see nothing that can be done. We keep looking.”
I felt my tears begin and I willed them not to fall from my lashes. “Those other patients? How have they fared?” I asked, though I was frightened to hear the answer. I was frightened to have Frank hear the answer.
“Of the four I have seen, three have died. One is doing quite well. My New York colleague has also witnessed the passing of most of his patients. I am sorry to say that I believe Mr. Giametti, like his fellow soldiers we have seen, has a cancer of the brain. Most likely, an effect somehow associated with the mustard gas.”
Frank spoke then. “What happens next? Or rather, what do you think will happen for me?”
Dr. Crane answered, “I think you have a bit of time. Your condition does not seem as poor as others. But I think it will progress, perhaps rapidly. With the other patients, the headaches can either intensify or - in a few cases - they have blessedly subsided. I think you will probably lose your vision quite soon.” The doctor leaned further toward us and touched Frank’s arm. “Then…I’m sorry,” he said.
“What if we had more money?” I asked, thinking about my secret bank account.
“Oh, Mrs. Blaisdell,” said the doctor. “It’s not money. I would cure this fine man for free if I could.”
I saw Frank use his thumb to gently brush a tear from where it had fallen onto Annie’s leg. Dr. Crane, I think saw this too, for he turned to me.
“This is a very sensitive thing I must ask. Very coarse. And I must apologize. But we are trying to learn all we can about the long-term effects of the gas, including those that may pass to other generations. So I will ask, although it is offensive: Is Mr. Giametti the father of this baby?”
I was stunned. Frank immediately straightened. He answered for me, “No this baby’s father is Mr. Blaisdell. Mrs. Blaisdell and her husband are loving friends. The only thing you are correct about is that the question is offensive.”
“Frank, it’s all right,” I said. “I understand. Dr. Crane wants to ensure that the children of those soldiers that have been poisoned are well. If this was your child…” I could not finish. If only, I thought. And then I was stunned again, because I had thought it.
The doctor stood. “I’m going to give you a stronger medicine for the headaches,” he said. “It should help quite a bit. It’s very potent, so you need to take care. Take it as you need it, but try if you can to be judicious.”
“That’s all?” I asked, unwilling to even get up from my chair. “Frank will die and you give him some drug for a headache?” I could hardly believe I could be so rude. I had come for a cure. I wanted the doctor to give us a cure.
“Lucinda!” said Frank. “Easing the pain will be a great benefit. More than I hoped for.”
I stood and took the baby from his lap. “You hope for too little!”
He touched my shoulder, “You are probably right, Lucie. But then I will not have to bear such horrible disappointment.”
The doctor walked with us to the door. He followed us out to the street, where our car was still thankfully waiting. “You can call me or come back anytime, Mr. Giametti,” he said. “And I will send you more medicine any time you need it.” He hesitated, and whispered to Frank - it was surely not meant for my ears, but I heard, “I will send you more than you need, if the time arises.”
It was a silent ride back to the train station. Neither of us knew what to say. Finally, Frank took my hand.
“The baby was very good today,” he said.
“Yes, she was an angel. Thank God she is over the fussy stage. Can you imagine if she had screamed throughout the examination?”
“Maybe that would have been better… to not have heard.”
“Where is a wailing infant when you need one?”
We lau
ghed then. What else could we do?
We arrived at the train station about forty minutes before the next train was due. This was good timing, for although we were anxious to be home, it was also nearly two and we had not eaten. Frank insisted he had no appetite, but I purchased two sandwich biscuits with ham from a street vendor and Frank ate a bit. I found a shop that sold me lukewarm tea in a paper cup, and Frank drank a full cup. I didn’t have time or any additional money to go back and buy one for myself, but it was just as well, since I did not see any ladies’ facilities, or at least none that I was willing to enter.
The train at that hour was half empty. We took two facing benches, with Frank offering to sit in the backwards-moving seat. Not that the seat moved backwards of course, but that he was sitting looking out at where we were leaving. I could never have managed that without vertigo, and I didn’t know how he could, given his painful headache and what I knew now was double vision. Perhaps it did not matter. I knew with a healthy head that I would be ill if I could not see where I was going.
Frank was quiet. He put a hand to his forehead occasionally, but said nothing. Annie enjoyed the sway of the train, and cooed and smiled, and soon was asleep.
Frank took from his pocket the bottle of pills that Dr. Crane had given him. He read the label, opened the bottle, and took one. He shrugged his shoulders.
“Maybe I should take them all now,” he said.
“Oh Frank, stop that talk,” I cried.
“It would save everyone so much trouble.”
“Except for the conductor who finds you in New York.”
“Not New York,” he laughed. “You’re going the wrong way.”
I sighed. “All my life.”
“Oh, now you’re the one who should stop that talk. You are not even twenty yet.”
“Not even nineteen,” I corrected.
“Worse,” he said. “The words ‘all my life’ do not even apply to you.” He closed his eyes. “But I, on the other hand…‘all my life’ is right here before me.”
I could not restrain my tears. In the deserted train car, I cried unashamedly. “Oh, Frank, whatever will we do?”
He leaned towards me and took my hands in his. “Lucinda, there is nothing we can do. Life will go on for you, and it will not go on for me. You will be okay, but you must promise to look after Sofia. You are the nearest thing to a sister for her. She has no family here. Just me… and just Martin and you.”
“How can you say this as if it was acceptable? As if you don’t mind?”
“Lucinda. I mind. I am so fearful of dying at this very moment that I feel the train is hurtling down the track, not towards New Haven, but towards death itself. I can’t stop the train. My destination is terrible but I cannot stop it.”
“You cannot die,” I cried. “I’ll find another doctor. Dr. Crane doesn’t know.”
“He does. And we knew. You knew yourself. You found Dr. Crane because you knew something was terribly wrong.”
“I want someone to fix it. I want you well.”
“I won’t get well. So stop. Please.”
Frank rose and sat beside me. He held my hand in silence for the rest of the trip.
We were both composed when we arrived in New Haven. It was well after three; we’d been gone for less than six hours, but it seemed that the world had changed. It felt unrecognizable. I felt unrecognizable - I would not have been surprised if the children did not know me.
We made our way to Constance’s home. Frank asked me to keep our day in confidence for a short while, to give him some time to reflect and decide the kindest way to share his condition with Sofia.
“Perhaps,” said Frank, “I am more resigned to my fate because I was a soldier. When you go off to war, you have no choice but to recognize your own mortality.”
I shifted Annie more comfortably in my arms. “That’s a significant difference between men and women. For when you give birth, you recognize your own immortality.”
“Knowing that part of you goes on - I think that it very comforting. Poor Sofia. She came here for a husband and a family. Soon she will have neither.”
“Do you think people can be happy alone?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Some people seem to be right with themselves.”
And at that, we were at Constance’s door. Constance, a woman who seemed quite right with herself. She was a woman alone but not withdrawn from the world.
She answered the door with a smile and a gesture to indicate that quietness was in order. We tiptoed in. There amongst tissue and boxes and toys scattered about, Charlotte and Jonathan and Sadie were asleep on the floor.
“The other children have left,” Constance whispered. “And these three little elves played until their last bit of energy flowed out onto the floor, and I have just let them lie here. With any luck, your two will be awake enough to walk home, and then go directly back to sleep.”
I introduced her to Frank, and I was glad that either the medicine or his sheer determination had taken hold, since his color was good and his stance was strong. I knew his pride had already been assaulted by his incapacity and Constance’s knowledge of it.
We gently woke the children. Although sleepy, they seemed delighted by the surprise of seeing Frank standing before them.
“Zio Frank!” said Jonathan. “We have been to a big birthday celebration. I never saw so many children in one spot. It must be just like school!”
“Oh yes,” said Frank, “You will have so many playmates at school that it will be a celebration every day.”
Looking around the room strewn with toys, I was suddenly shamefully aware of my terrible bad manners. I had been so preoccupied with Frank that I had not brought a gift for my own children to give to Sadie. I apologized, and Constance said, “Oh shush now… Sadie has more possessions than any little girl should have. What she needs are good friends. When you are comfortable enough to fall asleep together, that’s where love starts.”
“I can’t thank you enough for minding the children. Someday I will repay you with more than a doll for your child,” I said.
Frank said, “Well, I owe you too, Mrs. Hadley. It was an enormous support for Lucinda to accompany me today. And she is a stylish companion too, thanks to your skill with the scissors.”
Well now, that was just embarrassing, so I quickly got the children to say thank you and goodbye, and we headed out the door.
“Where did you go, Mama?” asked Charlotte.
“Oh, I had a nice time. It was such a fine day, and Zio Frank was feeling so much better, so we went for a long walk. And we had ham sandwiches and tea.”
“We had cake and apricots,” said Jonathan.
“How wonderful!” I said.
CHAPTER 51
Two days later, on Saturday afternoon, Sofia ran into my kitchen without knocking.
“I have such good news!” she said.
“Good news? Oh my! What good news?” I asked, so startled I almost dropped the dish I was drying.
“Frank saw a new doctor a few days ago, and this wonderful doctor has given him new medicine, and he is already ever so much better!”
At that, I did drop the plate. It clattered to the floor, and broke in half.
“Oh dear,” I said. “My hands were wet and the plate was so slippery!”
How could he? How could Frank tell Sofia he was getting better when the doctor told him he would die? I did not know whether to find this lie a form of cruelty or kindness. Or perhaps cowardice. Wouldn’t Sofia be even more heartbroken to believe he would be cured only to discover that his medicine existed to save him from pain, and not from death itself?
I picked up the two halves of the plate.
“It’s a straight crack, perhaps you can glue it,” Sofia said.
&nb
sp; “Frank…” I started. But of course I could not tell her. I had no right to tell her the truth. I saw that I had already been disloyal to Sofia and to Martin as well, keeping such a secret. But if I betrayed that secret now, I would be disloyal to Frank as well. “Tell me all about Frank.” I finished. “I will get us some tea.”
We sat at the table. Jonathan was playing with the toy animals and blocks, trying to make a bridge with the blocks like Sadie’s bridge. I would have to ask Constance where she found such a nice toy, as Jonathan’s birthday was coming up. Charlotte and the baby were both asleep.
“So Frank…” I said.
Sofia smiled. “Well, yesterday, Frank told me he had seen a doctor last week. That the doctor had contacted him, because he is doing a study of soldiers who were gassed. So he went. All the way to Bridgeport. I don’t know how he had the strength to do such a thing all alone. And the doctor gave him some new medicine that has been found to stop the headaches. Frank told me that he is already feeling much relief. And I see it! I saw today! He was ever so much better. He finished a violin today and started on another. And he was singing while he worked. Singing!”
I tried to sound lighthearted. “How marvelous!” I said. “I am so glad his pain has diminished. What else did Frank say… I mean did the doctor tell him about what causes the headaches? Will he need to take the medicine for a long time?”
“I don’t know. Frank didn’t say. I think Frank will have to see the doctor again, after his examination results are finished. He says for now, all we should care about is that he is feeling better.”
From this I gleaned that perhaps Frank had only sought to explain his new pills to Sofia. The news of his brain cancer was still to come.
I took a sip of tea and set the cup down so hard it rattled. I really could not be breaking china every time I felt disconcerted.
“I would have to agree that it is best to be grateful for each good moment as it comes,” I said.