by Patti Sheehy
The plane ride seemed to take forever. When they arrived, Frank and Magda were exhausted, physically and emotionally. Neither had slept well the night before, worrying about Darlene and the outcome of Magda’s treatment.
The next morning, after a Danish and a cup of coffee, Frank and Magda strolled to a Florida-style house—pale-green cement flanked by bird-of-paradise flowers. An office occupied the front of the house and a lab occupied the back. They entered through a louvered door and approached the secretary. A sign on her desk informed them that her name was Corinne.
“I read about your clinic in the newspaper,” Frank explained. He turned toward Magda. “My wife has Hodgkin’s disease, and we were hoping your treatment could help.”
The secretary looked at Magda and smiled wanly. “Please, sit,” she said, waving toward a couple of wicker chairs. Corinne opened her appointment book and ran her forefinger over the calendar while making small clicking sounds with her tongue. She looked at them with a troubled face.
“I’m sorry, the doctor is totally booked. I’m afraid we can’t fit you in.”
“But we’ve come all the way from New Jersey. My wife is very sick. She needs to see someone immediately.”
“I’m terribly sorry. I know this is difficult, but Dr. Hunter’s schedule is simply impossible.”
Frank glanced at Magda. It hadn’t occurred to him that she would be refused treatment. He had assumed it was a given. Magda’s face was white as cotton. Her chest heaved with weariness. This was their last chance, their last hope for a cure. Surely, there was a way to make it happen.
“I understand,” said Frank, trying to control his quaking voice. “Would it be possible for us to see Dr. Hunter for a few minutes— just to talk?”
The secretary glanced at her book. “His day begins at seven a.m. If you could get here around six-thirty, he might spend a few minutes with you.”
Frank looked at Magda, and she nodded. “We’ll be here,” he said.
There was no time for breakfast before Frank and Magda met with Dr. Hunter the next morning. The building was open and they took seats in the waiting room. Magda glanced through some magazines on the coffee table while Frank rested his eyes.
Ten minutes later, Dr. Hunter stepped through the door. He was a handsome man, about six feet tall. He sported a beard of very short nap and wore a white lab coat with his name embroidered in green thread over his right pocket. Owlish glasses framed his crystal-blue eyes, and a signet ring with a blue carved stone circled his finger.
The doctor shook Frank and Magda’s hands as they introduced themselves. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Corinne tells me Magda has Hodgkin’s disease and would like to avail herself of our services.”
“Yes,” said Frank.
“And she has informed you that we have no openings?”
“She has.”
Dr. Hunter leaned back in his chair. “Then what can I do for you?”
“Could you explain in layman’s terms what you do?” asked Frank.
Dr. Hunter leaned forward. “Our work here is totally experimental. But I believe it is the treatment of the future.” He hesitated a moment. “We are clear and open about the nature of our treatments. We ask all our patients to sign a form that releases us from any liability. We make no claims of a cure, but we do offer hope.”
Frank looked at Magda, and said, “We’re all for hope.”
The doctor nodded. “That being said, our philosophy is to build up the body, not tear it down with radiation and chemotherapy. As far as I’m concerned, chemotherapy is nothing more than poison—it does little in the long run to extend life, and it erodes the patient’s quality of life.”
Frank nodded, thinking about what Magda had been through. “What’s involved in the treatment?”
“I won’t get into the technicalities. Let’s just say we purify the patient’s blood by removing the cancer cells. We work with the blood and the bone marrow. We run a lot of tests to determine whether the treatment is working and how best to alter it if it is not. We also provide nutritional support with large doses of vitamins and minerals.”
“Do you succeed?”
“We have more success with some patients than with others.”
“I see.” Frank thought for a moment. “How much do you charge?”
“Five thousand dollars if you only have to have your blood treated once. More if you need further treatment.”
Dr. Hunter turned to Magda. “Do you have any questions, dear?”
Frank thought Magda would bristle at being called “dear,” but her face showed no annoyance.
Magda glanced at the office’s rudimentary computer. “What do you use this for?”
“To record patients’ names and addresses.”
“Do you use it to track treatment results?”
The doctor shook his head. “No one here is equipped to do that.”
“Would it help if I wrote you a program so you could analyze the results of your patients’ blood work?”
A look of astonishment crossed Dr. Hunter’s eyes. “You could do that?”
Magda nodded. “I was a computer analyst for Merrill Lynch. I’m fully capable of doing that and anything else you might need. I could simplify and streamline your practice. And you could use the time you save to treat me.”
Dr. Hoffman looked as if he’d been struck by lightning. It took him a minute to process what Magda had said. Sensing an opportunity, Frank interrupted the doctor’s train of thought.
“If we were to pay you ten thousand dollars, and Magda could help computerize your practice, would you accept her as a patient then?”
Dr. Hunter leaned back in his chair and exhaled. “This is a very tempting proposition.”
“It is meant to be,” said Frank.
“Very well. Let’s give it a shot.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Magda started treatment immediately and began to feel better. The more time that went by, the better she felt. According to the doctor, her blood work was improving and she was responding well to therapy.
As soon as she felt up to it, Magda made good on her promise to work on the clinic’s computer system. She tackled her new responsibilities with determination and enthusiasm, and quickly became the darling of the office. The staff simply loved her.
Frank rented a condo and a car for their use in the Bahamas. He traveled back and forth to New Jersey, dividing his time between his job and Darlene. Frank had several talks with Darlene about her mother’s condition, and she seemed to understand the severity of the situation as well as could be expected.
Darlene visited her mother on many occasions, often accompanied by Magda’s aunt and uncle or her parents. Magda’s family had been devastated at the news of Magda’s disease and had done everything possible to make the situation easier for Frank and Darlene.
Frank worried about how Magda’s disease was affecting his daughter. Sometimes she acted as if nothing were the matter, laughing and singing like she did before Magda’s diagnosis. At other times, she was lethargic and irritable. She was sucking her thumb more often than usual, and her teacher said she was moody and distracted.
Darlene talked to her mother on the phone several times a week. Sometimes it cheered her up. And sometimes it made her cry uncontrollably. At those times, Frank would hold her in his arms like he did when she was a baby. She clung to him for solace, but he never felt more inadequate in his life. Whenever Darlene had a holiday from school, Frank flew with her to see her mother. Their reunions were joyful, their departures filled with despair.
For a while, Magda’s cancer went into remission. She continued treatment in the Bahamas for almost a year, and Frank and Magda treasured their time together, aware that her condition could worsen at any time. Magda sat in the sun and gazed at the crystal-blue waters of the Caribbean. She talked to Darlene and the rest of her family on the phone. She read and she prayed.
Frank and Magda often talked well into the night about family, relig
ion, and the nature of love. They discussed what would be best for Darlene if Magda should pass, a difficult topic for them both.
In the spring of 1979, the lumps in Magda’s throat returned. She experienced extreme fatigue and slept most of the day. Frank flew her to Miami, and took her to the hospital to see if anything could be done to extend her life. The prognosis was bleak. Magda had only a short time to live. The oncologist mentioned further surgery. Distraught, Frank heard only half of what was said.
Frank entered Magda’s hospital room, sat on a vinyl-covered chair, and took her hand. “The doctor said something about surgery.”
Magda tensed and set her jaw. “I’m finished with doctors and hospitals, Frank.” She gazed out the window. “Just take me back to the Bahamas so I can live out the rest of my life in peace.”
Frank left the hospital and made the flight arrangements. Despite the medications, Magda’s pain was so severe she couldn’t get comfortable on the plane. When they arrived, Dr. Hunter and his staff were devastated that their treatment hadn’t worked. But to a certain extent it had. Magda had lived a year longer than the medical community had predicted.
Two weeks elapsed. Magda’s pain worsened, her appetite disappeared, and she shed more weight. Her face and limbs looked skeletal. Every day, every hour, was precious.
On Mother’s Day Frank brought Darlene to say good-bye to her mother. It was a bright, sunny day. Darlene tiptoed into her mother’s room. Magda smiled and nodded for her to approach. Darlene laid her head on Magda’s chest, while Magda stroked her daughter’s hair. Darlene sobbed and tears ran down Magda’s face.
Frank stood, not wanting to interrupt them. This was their moment, theirs alone. He watched for a minute. When it became too much for him to bear, he left the room, silently closing the door behind him. Darlene emerged from her mother’s room with red, puffy eyes.
Frank held his nine-year-old daughter close to his heart.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Twilight. The time when the sun offers its final long kiss to the sky and the sky kisses it back. Frank watched as clouds shifted shapes and colors, embracing yellows, purples, and splashes of orange. Halfway up the horizon the silvery moon played peek-a-boo with a rhubarb-colored playmate, a cumulous cloud that was finely etched and clearly defined. The cloud slowly morphed, its outer edges fringed in gold. It was a spectacular interlude, the closing curtain before the sun marched to its bloody demise.
The coral-washed firmament faded to gray as Frank entered Magda’s room, knowing this might be the last time he’d ever be with her. He looked at her with hungry eyes. Her hair was thin and brittle yet it decorated the white pillowcase like calligraphy on parchment, gracefully curling and turning. Her face was pale—almost translucent—her forehead smooth. Her molasses-colored eyes rested beneath her lids.
He approached her bed and sat quietly in the chair at her bedside. Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled slightly when she saw him. He took her hand in his, wanting to say so many things but not knowing where to begin. He sighed and looked at her. How could such a remarkable creature be granted only twenty-eight years on this earth? How could this be the end?
“I’m so sorry, Magda.” he managed. “I’m sorry nothing worked. I never thought it would come to this.”
Magda looked at Frank with such tenderness he thought his heart would buckle under her gaze. “Don’t, Frank,” she said softly.
Frank stopped talking and regarded her closely. She appeared peaceful, resigned, almost ethereal.
“You mustn’t speak that way,” she said. “We did everything we could. There’s nothing to regret.”
She sighed and glanced at the crucifix on the far side of the room. She moved her lips slightly, like she was reciting a prayer beneath her breath. A long moment elapsed, pregnant with memories.
Magda started to speak and then stopped.
“What is it?” Frank asked.
“I will miss everyone.” Tears swam in her eyes and she looked at Frank with all the love they had bestowed on each other over the years. “I will miss you more than you know,” she said in a voice choked with emotion. She hesitated while Frank folded her hands in his. “I will miss my parents, my brother. But most of all, I will miss—” Her lips quivered. Quiet filled the room like a vulture.
“I know, I know,” Frank soothed.
“I can’t even bear to think about Darlene,” she said, and started to cry.
“She’ll be okay,” Frank said, with as much conviction as he could muster. There was nothing he could say that would mitigate Magda’s pain. “She loves you, and she knows how much you love her. You’ve been a good mother. She’ll always carry you in her heart.”
“It will be so hard on her.”
She stopped speaking, and Frank nodded his understanding. He didn’t know what else to say. Magda pulled her right hand from his and pointed a frail finger at the dresser. Frank followed her gesture with his eyes and saw her gold locket sitting in a pottery dish. “Put a picture of me in my locket and give it to Darlene,” she said, her moist eyes signaling grave concern. “It’s important for my child to remember her mother’s face.”
“Of course,” Frank said, sucking in his breath at her words. As he did, he glimpsed the trinket ring he had given Magda years ago nestled next to the locket. An explosion of pain ripped at his stomach, demanding release. He struggled to control it.
He ran the back of his hand along Magda’s cheek and said, “And we will miss you. Darlene will miss you. I will miss you—” He stopped, aware of the words’ pathetic inadequacy.
Magda nodded then hesitated a moment, contemplating.
“We have always been honest with each other. And I need to be honest with you now. We’ve touched on this subject, but I want to be very clear about how I feel.”
Frank looked at Magda, conscious of her chest rising and falling with each breath.
“There’s not much time,” she said.
“Shhh, Magda.”
“No, let me speak.” She pulled herself up in the bed. Her eyes assumed a somber cast, but her feisty spirit was still evident in the muscles around her mouth. The delicate chain that held her gold cross was wrinkled at her collarbone and stuck to her skin, displaying the cross at an oblique angle. She leaned back on her pillow and offered Frank a small smile.
He nodded. “Whatever you want.”
Magda’s shoulders relaxed, and she said, “You are the kind of man who needs a woman, to love, to care for, to cherish.”
Frank made a sound that indicated he didn’t want to pursue this conversation, but Magda held up her hand to silence him. “You are too young not to remarry. Promise me you’ll find someone else and make another life for yourself.”
“I can’t,” Frank said. “I’m sorry, I can’t even think about that now.”
Magda set her lips in a stern line. “But in time you will, Frank, and I want you to know that you have my blessing. Just make sure to choose someone who will be good for you and kind to Darlene.”
Grief constricted Frank’s throat. He couldn’t respond. He sat immobile, thinking about his soon-to-be motherless daughter. How would he care for her? How would he manage his grief while assuaging hers? How could he ever begin to teach her the things that only a woman can impart to a daughter? She would need the help of Magda’s mother and aunt. Frank wanted Darlene to have the comfort of his own mother, but she was far away, in a land of no return.
Banishing the thought, he studied Magda’s hands sitting lightly on the sheets. They looked fragile, like ice crystals ready to dissolve under the sun’s steady gaze. The couple sat in silence for a moment. Magda was the first to speak. “Frank,” she whispered, “will you do something for me?”
Frank looked at her with tears in his eyes. He brushed her hair away from her face. “Of course, darling,” he said. “Anything.”
“Will you make love to me one last time?”
Frank sucked in his breath and studied her. “Oh, Magda, is that
what you really want? Or would you rather I just hold you? You are so frail, so fragile. Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”
Frank looked at her thin, bruised body, wondering how to do this. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said. “You’ve been through so much—”
“You won’t hurt me, Frank. You have never hurt me. Besides, it doesn’t matter anymore. I won’t be in this body much longer.”
Frank shook his head. “Dear God, Magda, I don’t think I can.”
“Why?” she asked in a voice that was thin and papery. A tear escaped from the corner of her eye and landed on her upper lip. Her tongue darted out and quickly retrieved it. At that moment, Frank realized he had hurt her, the last thing he wanted to do.
“Because if I make love to you now, I will remember every detail for the rest of my life,” he said. “I will never be able to get it out of my mind. It will be too painful—”
Magda sighed and turned her head to face the window. Her eyes assumed a faraway look. She knew he had spoken the truth.
“It’s ‘Now or Never,’ Frank.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I keep hearing it in my head.”
Frank’s eyes opened wide, expelling a line of warm, salty tears. It was their song, the one Magda sang to Frank when he was thinking about leaving Cuba.
She turned her face toward him and said, “Sing it with me, Frank.” Frank opened his mouth, but no sound sprang forth. Magda started to hum, then to sing in a tremulous voice. Her words were soft at first, almost imperceptible. “It’s now or never, come hold me tight. Kiss me my darling, be mine tonight—g”
Her tongue tripped over consonants, dropped an octave, and then grew stronger, as if the notes were bells, iron bells, injecting the tensile strength of metal into her bloodstream, providing her with one final surge of energy.
Frank stared at the white cotton bedspread that floated lightly over her body, hoping his voice would find its wings. He thought of things long since forgotten—the color of the ribbon in her hair the first time he met her. The way she smiled at him, shyly. The way her body looked stretched out on a beach blanket. The small geysers she created when she skipped into the waves, kicking the sparkling spray waist high.