Friday after breakfast Meghan sent Sean a text to let him know they were trying to get to Cumpton as quickly as possible, and his reply made her heart roll over.
I’ll pray it all falls into place. Looking forward to seeing you.
Even if he didn’t mean anything personal by the second sentence, it touched her. And the first sentence echoed in her mind all morning. If Sean was praying, it would happen. She trusted everything would fall into place.
Shortly after lunch, she and Grandma settled in side by side on the couch to watch a movie. They hadn’t gotten past the opening credits when Grandma’s telephone rang. The caller ID showed the clinic’s number. Meghan let out a whoop and snagged it up. She hit the talk button and shoved the phone at Grandma.
Frowning, Grandma put it to her ear. “Hello. Yes, this is Mrs. DeFord. Today at two forty-five?”
Meghan clapped both hands over her mouth and checked the grandfather clock. Already one ten. How far was it to the Las Vegas clinic?
“I might be a few minutes late, depending on traffic, but I’ll do my best to be there…Yes, thank you. Goodbye.”
Before Grandma finished the call, Meghan had struggled off the cushions and put her crutches in place. At Grandma’s goodbye, she bellowed, “Mom! We’ve gotta get Grandma to her doctor’s office in an hour and a half!”
Mom stayed behind to ready the dogs for travel, just in case, and Meghan rode shotgun while Grandma drove. She sent a text to Sean.
The doctor’s office got Grandma in early. Might leave Kendrickson later today. Will keep you posted.
Within seconds her phone buzzed with his response.
PTL! Praying all goes well.
She smiled the rest of the way to the clinic.
Grandma found an open parking space near the center of the large outdoor lot. The sun tried to blister Meghan’s head while they walked what seemed like miles across the asphalt. She bit down on the tip of her tongue to keep from encouraging Grandma to hurry up. Would the receptionist cancel the appointment if they arrived late? To her relief, they entered the reception area of the clinic with two minutes to spare.
While Grandma checked in, Meghan crossed the tile floor, careful not to set the tips of her crutches on the toes of any of the half-dozen people already waiting, and sank onto the stiff cushion of a vinyl-covered, double-sized chair in the corner. She’d expected them to take Grandma straight back to a room, but instead Grandma joined her. The vinyl squeaked in protest when Grandma sat.
“Not ready for you yet?” She did her best to keep a light tone, but Grandma must have sensed her fretfulness because she patted Meghan’s knee.
“It’s not all about me, dear. Others need to see the doctor, too.”
Meghan sighed. “I know, but…” She and Grandma had other important places to be. When would Sean’s prayers kick in and speed up the process?
Grandma reached for the stack of magazines on a nearby table. “Even if we don’t leave until tomorrow morning, we’ll have the majority of the week in Cumpton. Remember what Rousseau said. ‘Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet.’ ” Grandma picked up a copy of House Beautiful and browsed it, but Meghan stared at the round clock on the plain-painted wall and watched the second hand count the minutes.
At 3:18 a woman wearing bright-pink scrubs and a purple bandana around her frizzy red hair emerged from behind a swinging door near the reception desk. She seemed to search the area. “Hazel?”
Grandma lifted her head. “I’m Mrs. DeFord.”
The woman smiled. “Please come with me, Hazel.”
Grandma sighed.
Meghan started to rise, but Grandma plopped the magazine in her lap. “No, you stay here. I’m capable of taking care of myself.”
Meghan watched the woman escort Grandma past the door. Then she pulled out her phone and sent Sean a quick text message.
Grandma’s with the doctor now. Keeping my fingers crossed!
His reply came before she could count to ten.
Crossed fingers unnecessary. God’s got this.
The certainty in his answer stole her ability to breathe for a few seconds. What would it be like to hold such fierce confidence in someone? She loved Mom. She loved Grandma. She would even say she trusted them to do their best for her. But she couldn’t imagine stating “Mom’s got this” or “Grandma’s got this” and leaving it at that. Meghan would still worry, fret, and try to finagle things so they’d happen the way she wanted.
Her fingers itched to ask Sean how he could be so sure God had it, but he probably had paperwork to complete to finalize his travel plans. She shouldn’t pester him. With reluctance she slipped her phone into her pocket and made herself read an article about safely stripping wallpaper from lath-and-plaster walls.
She read two more articles in the House Beautiful magazine and then picked up a tabloid-type publication plastered with photographs of movie stars. She’d never been much interested in following Hollywood’s important people, but the magazine helped her pass the time. When she looked up from the second magazine, she was surprised to discover it was a few minutes after five o’clock. The waiting room was nearly empty, too. Where was Grandma?
She tossed the magazine back on the stack, situated her crutches, and hitched across the floor to the receptionist’s desk. “Excuse me, my grandmother, Hazel DeFord, went to a room around three fifteen. Could you tell me when she might be finished?”
“DeFord?”
“That’s right.”
“Spelling, please?”
Meghan slowly spelled out Grandma’s name, both last and first.
The young woman tapped a few words on the keyboard and squinted at the screen, her lips pooched out as if she’d just tasted a lemon. Suddenly she pushed away from the desk. Her chair’s wheels carried her several feet backward to a long counter crowded with stacking trays and office equipment. She scooped a couple of pages from the printer tray and scowled at them. Then she pulled with her feet and rolled herself back to the computer.
She thrust the pages over the reception counter at Meghan. “Your grandmother was transported to the imaging center behind the clinic for a sonogram. You can pick her up there.”
Meghan frowned at her. “What?”
The woman flapped the pages. “It’s all in the paperwork.”
They must be talking about someone else. Grandma wouldn’t have needed a sonogram. “Are you sure this is about Hazel DeFord? She’s not pregnant.”
A half smile, more snide than soothing, tipped up the corners of the woman’s lips. “Sonography is used for more than obstetrics. Please take these pages with you to the imaging center. Someone there will explain.”
Twenty-Nine
Hazel
Hazel sat on the edge of the high table in the whitewashed room and bit on her lower lip. She was too old to dissolve into tears. But couldn’t they have allowed her to put on her clothes before sharing the results of her sonogram? The gaping gown exposed her wrinkled back, and her bare feet dangled at least twelve inches above the floor, leaving her feeling vulnerable. And undignified. Being appropriately attired might not change the outcome of the test, but surely she’d be better equipped to accept the news.
“Are you absolutely sure my carotid artery is blocked? I haven’t had anything remotely close to a stroke.” Many of her friends had suffered strokes from blocked arteries whether in their hearts or their necks. She wasn’t unfamiliar with the malady. Could anyone reach her age without being exposed to such? But somehow she’d never envisioned herself as one of the sufferers.
Dr. Nobbs rolled the wheeled stool closer and placed his hands on her knees. “Now that I’ve seen the sonogram, yes, I’m sure. I suspected as much when I listened to the arteries in your neck. I can let you use my stethoscope and listen, if you’d like. You’ll be able to discern the difference between the blood flow in the right and that in the left.”
“It’s the left one that’s blocked, isn’t it?”
He nodded.
Which explained why, when she grew stressed or alarmed, she experienced a pounding in one temple but not the other. “Is the blockage responsible for my light-headedness and occasional confusion?”
“Yes.”
She sighed. “I suppose I should be relieved it isn’t only because I’m an old lady.”
The doctor chuckled. “Confusion can happen with age as well, but this time I’m sure it isn’t an upcoming birthday that’s at fault. Based on the narrowing of the artery and what you’ve been experiencing over the past several months, I believe you’ve had a series of transient ischemic attacks, what we commonly call TIAs. Many people refer to them as ministrokes because the symptoms are similar to having a stroke.”
Alarm bells rang in Hazel’s mind, bringing the familiar pounding in her left temple. “Has my brain been damaged?”
He shook his head. “Absolutely not. TIAs cause temporary confusion or dizziness, but the symptoms last only a few seconds until blood carrying oxygen flows through again. So there’s been no damage at all to your brain.”
That, at least, was a relief.
“Our goal is, of course, to unblock that artery so the blood can flow freely. We want to prevent you from having an actual stroke.” Dr. Nobbs stood and crossed to a counter stretching the length of the room. He scribbled on a sheet of paper. “I’m going to refer you to Dr. Bashad. He is one of the best vascular surgeons in the state. We’re very lucky to have him here in Las Vegas. He works predominantly out of St. Mary’s Hospital. Have you ever been to St. Mary’s?”
“No. I haven’t been to a hospital since 1966, when I gave birth to my daughter.”
Dr. Nobbs shot a smile over his shoulder. “Obviously you’ve been in very good health, then. You’re fortunate.”
She wished she felt fortunate. She was too scared to feel fortunate.
“I am confident that Dr. Bashad will be completely successful in removing the blockage.” He dropped the pen and turned with the paper in his hand. “We’ll need to confirm with Dr. Bashad’s nurse, but generally we don’t delay these kinds of procedures. The risk of the blockage increasing and causing a stroke is too great, so as soon as you’re dressed we’ll go make the call together to schedule surgery. In all likelihood, it will be sometime early next week. In the meantime, it’s imperative that you—”
Panic struck. “Early next week? I can’t have surgery next week.” If she’d been fully dressed, she would have leaped off the table and escaped. Maybe that’s why they’d left her in this unladylike gown. “I’m taking a vacation with my daughter and granddaughter. We’re driving a motor home to Cumpton, Arkansas, to look for my little sister.”
The doctor frowned at her as if she’d lost control of her senses. And maybe she had, because she couldn’t seem to stop talking.
“I’ve waited seventy years to find her, and now a detective is helping me. He’ll be there next week. Margaret Diane and Meghan have made arrangements to take me to meet him, and I’ve even grown accustomed to having the dogs underfoot all the time without cringing.” She shook her head so hard her ears rang. “No, Doctor, we’ll need to schedule this for another time. Maybe in September, after Margaret Diane and Meghan have returned to Little Rock.” Tears blurred her vision, and her throat went tight. She gripped the scratchy fabric sagging at her throat and battled against dissolving into wails of frustration and anguish.
Dr. Nobbs stepped close and took hold of her shoulders. “Mrs. DeFord, take a few deep breaths and bring yourself under control.”
He spoke so calmly, so kindly, she automatically followed his direction. Her first breaths were carried on shuddering gasps, but eventually they smoothed. Her vision cleared, and she gazed into the doctor’s sympathetic eyes.
“Are you calmer now?”
She nodded.
“Good. Please listen to me. It’s imperative that you stay calm and as stress free as possible until this surgery is over. Undue stress causes your blood pressure to rise, and the increased blood flow can’t make it through the constricted artery. You don’t want to give yourself a stroke, do you?”
Miserably, Hazel whispered, “No.”
He gently squeezed her shoulders, then stepped back and pinned her with a repentant look. “I wish I could send you on that vacation, Mrs. DeFord. It’s very clear that you were looking forward to it. But I think you should be grateful that you came in for a checkup before you drove so far from home.”
Hazel swallowed a sob. “I was going home.”
He nodded as if her comment made perfect sense. “Let me step out and I’ll have a nurse come in to help you get dressed. You’re still a little shaky.”
Such an understatement. Her entire body quivered as if an earthquake rattled the table beneath her.
“When you’re ready, we’ll go schedule that surgery, hmm?”
Would she ever be ready? He was waiting for a reply. She sighed. “All right.” He moved into the hallway and pushed the door closed with a solid click. Hazel hung her head. A moan strained for release. Why, when she finally had a chance to find Maggie, had this happened?
A few self-pitying squeaks escaped her throat, and then she straightened her shoulders and sniffed hard. She would be strong. For Meghan, and for Margaret Diane, she would be strong.
Meghan
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so frustrated. And scared. Somewhere in this building, her grandmother was being subjected to tests that made no sense, and no one would tell her anything. Who cared about Hippa? She wanted answers. She wanted her grandmother.
She’d been instructed to wait in a small room containing two couches, a television without a remote, and an empty coffeepot on a table. She wanted to pace, but her crutches prevented her from expelling the pent-up energy. So she flopped into the center of one couch and pulled out her phone. She intended to call Mom, but somehow her finger hit Sean’s number instead.
“Hey, I wondered when you’d call. How’d your grandma’s appointment go?”
A huge knot tangled her tonsils and she couldn’t force words past it. Only a whimper emerged.
“Meghan? Is that you?”
She had to pull herself together. If she didn’t control herself, he’d wonder if she was competent enough to hold down a job. She cleared her throat. Then again. “Yeah.” She didn’t sound like herself, but at least she was talking. “It’s me.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t really know.” She explained waiting for nearly two hours, then being sent to another building, then not being able to locate her grandmother. “All I know is they’re doing a sonogram. But why? What are they looking for?”
“They haven’t given you any indication at all?”
“No!” She ran her fingers through her hair and closed her eyes against the sting of tears. “Nobody will tell me anything.”
“I don’t blame you for being scared. If I were in your shoes, I’d be a little worked up, too.”
She popped her eyes open. “You would?”
“Of course I would.”
“But you believe in God.”
“And you think that keeps me from being human?”
She processed his question. Embarrassment struck hard. “That was a stupid thing to say.”
“No, Meghan, it wasn’t.” He spoke so reassuringly her tense shoulders automatically began to relax. “Believing in God helps. It helps a lot, especially in times when I can’t understand. Fear and worry are very human reactions to the unknown. So when those emotions strike—and believe me, they strike me, too—I have to remind myself that He knows. And I have to trust Him to hold the people I care about even when I can’t.”
Had he trusted God to hold her when she was pinned in her car for hours waiting for the Jaws of Life to free her? She leaned forward, propped her elbow on her knee, and covered her eyes with one hand. She hugged the phone to her cheek and whispered, “I’m really upset right now. I came in here expecting the doctor to tell Grandma everything
’s good to go, and now I don’t know if anything’s good. What will I do if—”
“Don’t.” Although the word was sharp, his voice was gentle. Soothing. “I know it’s natural to start expecting the worst, but it’s too soon for that. You need to hold on to hope, Meghan.”
“Hold on to hope…” “How?”
“By trusting that your grandmother is in good hands with the doctor. By trusting she’s receiving the best care available. By trusting that God is with her and keeping her strong. She believes in Him, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah. Yeah, she does.” Grandma and Sean were the only two people in her world who believed in God. They were the two most stable, reliable, trustworthy people in her world, too. She needed them. Both of them. “That means He won’t let anything happen to her, right?”
“Oh, Meghan…” She envisioned him doing a slow head shake, a tender smile lighting his dark eyes. “No one lives forever. Eventually her body will wear out and her soul will fly to Jesus.”
She swallowed against the knot in her throat. “I’m not ready for her to go.”
“Of course you aren’t. We never are. But when the time comes, she’ll be the happiest she’s ever been, and she’ll be happy forever. That’s a whole lot better than anything we’re offered down here.”
“Miss DeFord?”
The intrusion of a female voice startled Meghan so badly her elbow slipped off her knee. She grabbed the couch cushion and righted herself. A different nurse, this one with ebony skin and a sweet smile, stood in the doorway. “Are you Miss DeFord?”
“Yes, I’m Meghan DeFord.”
“I’m sorry we left you in here so long, honey. It took me a while to track you down. We have too many little waiting rooms in this building.” Her deep chuckle erased a bit of Meghan’s anxiety. She wouldn’t be chuckling if something horrible had happened to Grandma. “Your grandmother’s waiting to see you. I can take you to her.”
Bringing Maggie Home Page 23