Saving Jane Doe

by Carolyn Purcell

  Two weeks before Thanksgiving, when Grace came home from visiting her father, she said that Ellen had asked if she could spend Thanksgiving with Jessie. George wasn’t thrilled about it, but Jessie had not spent a holiday with Jeff or Ellen since she left over five years before. Jessie began making plans for what they would do to celebrate.

  “Is Jeff coming too?” she asked excitedly.

  Grace’s negative response took some of the joy out of the occasion, but Jessie, grateful for even the slightest opportunity to spend time with either of her two older children, continued her planning with a smile on her face.

  Jessie cooked a fabulous, traditional Thanksgiving dinner with turkey, dressing, fresh cranberry salad, scalloped oysters, candied yams, mashed potatoes, and giblet gravy. Ellen seemed withdrawn, like she had something on her mind. None of our conversation or questions drew her out. She barely smiled as Grace made Uncle Henry’s Thanksgiving pronouncement. After we stuffed ourselves, we bundled up and took a long bike ride. Grace chattered the whole time about the birds she saw, the horses grazing in the fields, and the beauty of a grove of blue spruce trees.

  “I wish all trees could stay green,” she said.

  “Then we wouldn’t have the beautiful colors in the fall,” Jessie responded.

  “Hadn’t thought of that,” Grace conceded as she put on a burst of speed, pedaling hard down a hill.

  “Careful!” Jessie called after her.

  That evening Grace was exhausted. We all were, but she went to her room unusually early. Later I wondered if Grace sensed that Ellen didn’t want to talk in front of her. Her sensitivity to people continued to amaze me and was perhaps even greater than her mother’s. She had just had a checkup, and her leukemia remained in remission.

  No sooner was Grace out of the room than Ellen blurted out her fear. She sat on the sofa and twisted a Kleenex. “I think I have cancer.”

  “What? Why do you think that?” Jessie asked, her eyes wide with alarm. She sat beside Ellen, taking her hand.

  “I have these growths.”

  “Where?” Jessie and I were a duet.

  “Down there.”

  “Can you see them outside?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Will you let Dr. Land look?” Jessie said.

  “Now?”

  “We could wait. I can see you in the clinic tomorrow.”

  “No, look now,” Ellen pulled down her jeans enough that I could see.

  “They’re warts, Ellen, not cancer. They can be treated.”

  “Where did I get them?”

  I looked at Jessie, knowing that she knew as well as I did. “Usually from having sex with someone who has the virus,” I said.

  “But I haven’t,” Ellen said.

  “Ellen Marie, you will not lie to us. Dr. Land is trying to help you, and she has to know the truth.”

  Ellen raised her chin in a defiant pose. “So what if I did? We love each other, and we are going to get married after I get out of that pathetic school.”

  “Who is this boy?”

  “Mark Jones.”

  “Pete and Jane Jones’ son, the one that’s Jeff’s age?”

  “Yes.”

  “You may be out of school sooner than you think if you keep this up. What did you use for birth control?” Jessie asked, displaying a calm that I doubt she felt.

  “He used condoms except once.”

  “Ellen, one out of every four times you have unprotected sex, you get pregnant,” I said. “When was your last period?”

  “This Monday, I just finished today. I’m not pregnant.”

  “If you can come by the clinic tomorrow, I’ll treat the warts and do a Pap smear.”

  “Why do I have to have a Pap smear?”

  “Because when you have warts, you have an increased risk of getting cervical cancer.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow when I get to the clinic and let you know the best time.”

  “Thanks, Cara. We’ll be there,” Jessie said.

  Ellen turned pleading eyes to her mother. “Do we have to tell Dad?”

  “I think he would be very disappointed in you, Ellen. I know I am. You are too young for this, but I am not going to tell him. You will have to do that yourself.”

  After Ellen went to bed, Jessie asked, “Do you think she needs to be on birth control pills? She’s so young.”

  “Yes,” I said. “She doesn’t sound like she intends to stop, and she will get pregnant. You know we get girls younger than her in Labor Hall every day.”

  “Do you think pills make young girls have sex more?”

  “No, I don’t, but I do think pills keep them from getting pregnant. They do what they want to do with or without them. Sometimes if a young girl holds out and makes the boy use a condom every time, she does decrease her chance of getting a sexually transmitted disease, but Ellen has already failed that test.”

  “When could she start?”

  “Since she just had her period, I can give her samples tomorrow. She can start Sunday.”

  “Well, one good thing will come from this.”

  “What’s that?

  “She’ll have to come see me more.” Jessie smiled.

  “You always find the silver lining.”

  Ellen was happy to use pills. She admitted that her boyfriend had been pressuring her to get them, but she had not wanted to tell anybody she was having sex.

  George had refused to do any of the driving required for the children to visit, and Jessie was so glad for the chance to see them that she didn’t argue. Thus, it was a surprise when he knocked on the door during the week before Christmas. Jessie had picked up Grace two days before. As he pushed his way past Jessie, he threw the birth control pills on the hall table and screamed at me, “What do you mean giving Ellen birth control pills?”

  “What has she told you?”

  “She said she loves that Jones boy, and you gave her pills.”

  “She was having unprotected sex, George. What did you expect me to do? Do you want her to get pregnant?”

  “I don’t want her sleeping with every boy that comes sniffing around.”

  “I don’t either, George,” Jessie said, “but she says it has only been this one boy. You have already forbidden her to date him, and that didn’t stop her, so what do you think you can do?”

  “I’ll put her out.”

  “Yes, I guess you would, but I fail to see how that would stop her.”

  “Well, she’s not taking these.”

  Jessie’s countenance and voice changed. “George, what about letting Ellen come and live with me? It would get her away from that boy, and I would love to have her.”

  “No, you’ve been a bad enough influence already.” He stormed out.

  Christmas was grim that year. We decorated the house because Uncle Henry had liked it decorated and because Grace liked it decorated, but my heart wasn’t in it. On December 1, Jessie and Grace started their study of Luke, but I didn’t join them. Grace spent Christmas with her father, and both Jessie and I missed her. Jessie reminded me of what Uncle Henry had taught her that first Christmas she was there, that Christmas is really about God’s love for us, His sending His Son for us, not just about gifts or even family. I knew that message had been important for Jessie that first year and always would be, but it didn’t comfort me as I grieved for Uncle Henry, still felt guilt over the abortion I had done, and dreaded the coming winter.

  CHAPTER 6

  I had six more months of residency. As a chief resident, I was allowed to take calls from home. My last six months included three months on Pathology, the least demanding and time-consuming part of the final year. I decided to take a class in finance. While Uncle Henry had left his money, now my money, in good hands, I felt I needed to understand more of the subject even to be able to speak to the professionals.

  My finance class started on Tuesday evening, January 11. The teacher, Jon Parker, was a graduate assistant who
had an MBA from Wharton School of Business and was working on his PhD in finance. He was a Vietnam War veteran and a Wall Street veteran who had made enough money to retire at thirty-two. A wonderful teacher, he had that perfect combination of book knowledge and experience. Tuesday and Thursday nights came too slowly and finished too quickly. He was older than the other graduate assistants, actually thirty-three years old.

  In school I was almost always the teacher’s pet. Because I was nearsighted and did not find out until medical school, I always sat on the front row. Because I was focused to a fault, I always paid attention. Because my face is like an open book, one slight frown at something I did not understand would cause the teacher to stop and explain. One is fortunate when the teacher gauges the whole class’s understanding by your understanding. I found myself hoping I would be teacher’s pet again.

  Unlike some women, I have never had a strong preference for either blond or brunet men. I like both. Nor do I have a preference for tall or short men, blue or brown eyes. Jon was perfect. He appeared to be about six feet tall with a lean athletic build. He had no hair as he carefully shaved the little hair left by his baldness. It created a striking look, made even more so by the long hair styles of the time. His hazel eyes flashed with quick wit. I didn’t know whether I wanted class to be over so I wouldn’t be his student anymore, or whether I was afraid for class to be over because I wouldn’t see him anymore.

  During January, Jessie repeatedly tried to talk to Ellen, but she, like Jeff, was never at home when Jessie took Grace. Then one extremely cold and snowy Thursday night near the end of February, George knocked on the door again. “Is Ellen here?” he asked as Jessie invited him in.

  “Of course not,” Jessie said, her eyes registering alarm. “You mean you don’t know where she is?” She began pacing back and forth across the living room.

  “I discovered that she was not in her room this morning. I don’t know exactly when she left.” George stood in the middle of the room, looking down at his hands as he twirled his brown hat in a circle.

  “Was anything wrong?”

  “Not that she said. She never talks to me anymore. I don’t like her friends, and I don’t let her see that Jones boy. I thought maybe she talked to you.”

  “When would she have talked to me? Did you check with the boy?”

  “Yes, she was not at his house, but he wasn’t there either. She didn’t go to school today. I thought maybe she had come here.”

  “Have you checked with the police?” I asked.

  “No, I wanted to check here first.”

  Jessie went to the phone and called the police. “I need to report a missing person.” When she hung up, she said, “They said I have to come down there and file the report.”

  “I’ll go home and file a report with the police there. I’ll check with some other friends too, now that I know she’s not here.”

  “George, will you please let me know if she comes home? I’ll call you if she comes here.”

  “Yes,” he said as he turned and headed for the door. “Ask Grace if she has any ideas. Ellen did talk to her last weekend.”

  Jessie called Grace downstairs after her father left. “Ellen seems to have run away from home, Grace. Do you have any idea why or where she might have gone?” By this time Jessie had sat on the sofa. She held out her arms for Grace to come sit beside her. They each seemed to need the touch of the other.

  “I told her she should ask to come home with me.”

  “What was the problem?”

  “I don’t know exactly. She and Dad either fight or don’t talk at all. I told her you would listen and that you would be there for her.”

  “That was good advice, Grace. I would, but so would your father.”

  “Maybe, but he’s more critical than you.”

  “Maybe he has more right to be critical, Grace. Do you have any idea where she might have gone?”

  “She said she needed to talk to her boyfriend.”

  “Is that still Mark Jones?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did she say what she needed to talk to him about?”

  “No.”

  “Thanks, honey. You let me know if you can think of anything else that might help us find her. I have to go to the police station to file a report. Cara, could you stay with Grace until I get back?”

  “Sure.” I built a fire.

  Grace had gone back to her room to do homework, and Jessie had been gone about an hour when Ellen knocked on the door. She stood on the porch alone, shivering. Icy tears dripped from her chin and a frown crossed her face when she realized it was not her mother who answered the door.

  I heard a deep rumble from the muffler as an old car pulled away from the curb. “Come in, come in. Your mother will be so relieved to see you. How did you get here?”

  “Mark brought me, but he left. Where’s my mother?”

  “She’s gone to the police station looking for you.”

  “She knows I ran away?”

  “Yes, your father has been here. Come, sit by the fire and I’ll call and let her know you’re here. She’s worried.”

  Ellen sat by the fire and looked at her hands when she spoke. “Would you wait, Dr. Land? I want to talk to you.”

  “About what?”

  “I think I’m pregnant?”

  “When was your last period?”

  “About six weeks ago.”

  “Have you been regular since you stopped the pill? Sometimes they can make you a little irregular when you first come off them.”

  “I’ve only had the one.”

  “Have you been using condoms?”

  “No.”

  “Have you had any abnormal bleeding?”

  “Yes, about two weeks ago I bled a little, but it wasn’t a normal period, not even as much as the light period on the pill.”

  “It sounds like you may be right.”

  “Do I have to tell my parents?”

  “You don’t have to. If you are pregnant, you are an emancipated minor, which means that you can make decisions for yourself regarding the pregnancy, but you are hardly in a position to take care of yourself. I think you should tell your mother.”

  “My friend said I should have an abortion. She said nobody would have to know.”

  “Ellen, you would know. That’s enough, but whatever you decide, you should not be alone in this.” As I said that, we heard Jessie open the back door. “Please tell your mother.”

  When Jessie came in, Ellen ran to her like she had that day in Frankfort. Though she was not, in so many ways she seemed like the same little girl. Jessie held her a moment then pushed her away to look into her eyes. “Ellen, where have you been? How did you get here? Why did you run away from home?” She pulled her back into her arms, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath as though she had been unable to breathe before. I wondered if she had pictured Ellen alone, unconscious in a dirty hallway.

  Ellen chose the easiest of this string of questions to answer. “Mark brought me.”

  “Why didn’t he stay? I would like to meet him.”

  “He said he had to get home.” After a pause, she added, “He broke up with me.”

  “What? Why?”

  Ellen looked at me, and Jessie followed her look. “Why?” she repeated, her voice a little higher in pitch.

  Ellen walked away from Jessie. She raised her chin, turned, and made eye contact.

  “It’s Dad’s fault.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He wouldn’t let me take pills. Now I’m pregnant.”

  Jessie’s shoulders dropped with the weight of Ellen’s words. She walked to her but hesitated short of touching her. She waited until Ellen turned and melted into her arms. “Cara, have you two talked?” Jessie asked me, looking over Ellen’s shoulder.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think she is?”

  “Yes, it sounds like she is.”

  “When can you see her?”

  “I’ll work
her in tomorrow.” During our last year of residency we could have a few private patients. It looked like I had my first one. How ironic it should be Jessie’s daughter. “You two have a lot to discuss. I think I’ll go to bed.”

  As I left the room I heard Jessie say, “I need to call your father and tell him you’re here.”

  “Please,” Ellen said a little too quickly, “don’t tell him I’m pregnant.”

  “We’ll see the doctor first. I’ll tell him that I will bring you home on Sunday.”

  I lay awake most of the night thinking about my conflicted convictions about abortion. I’m glad it’s legal; don’t ever want another poor woman in Jessie’s position or that of other women who try to abort themselves. The Supreme Court said that until the age of viability the decision should be between the woman and her doctor. Ellen is my first private patient. What will I do if she decides she wants to be aborted? The Supreme Court’s decision doesn’t change the morality issue. Pro-choice? Pro-life? God loves mother and baby. I decided I would refer Ellen to an abortion clinic if that was her choice and fell into a troubled sleep.

  Jessie called work the next day and took off for a “family emergency.” Then she and Ellen came to the clinic at eleven o’clock to see me. Except for the blood transfusions at birth, Ellen’s medical history was unremarkable. Her general exam showed a healthy fifteen-year-old. Her uterus was consistent with a six weeks’ pregnancy, and she had a four-centimeter ovarian cyst on the right. I wasn’t worried about the cyst, but Ellen’s would be a high-risk pregnancy because she was fifteen.

  “It looks like you are about six weeks pregnant,” I said when I finished her exam and she had dressed. “We date the pregnancy from your last period, even though we know you conceived two weeks after that. You are due October 24. Your exam is normal except that you have a small ovarian cyst on the right side.” Jessie and Ellen both gasped. Ellen reached for Jessie’s hand.

  “What does that mean?” Jessie asked for both of them.

  “It’s very common to find a cyst at this point. At ovulation, when the ovary makes an egg, a cyst is formed normally. If you get pregnant the cyst usually takes about two and a half months to go away. Often we can feel it, if we check carefully.”