In This Together

by Patti Berg

  “Morning,” James said and then hit her with a halfhearted frown. “You know, I should lecture you for asking Fern to help you with the Walk for a Cure, but she’s in seventh heaven, so…kudos to you.”

  Elena smiled. “I live to please.”

  “She’s anxious to attend your meeting this afternoon too, and she’s even pulled Nelson out of class to be an extra volunteer.”

  That brought a smile to her face. With Nelson helping out, she could easily check off at least one big or two smaller items from her Walk for a Cure to-do list. Suddenly the morning was looking up.

  In an uncharacteristic move, she gave James a big hug, almost laughing at the look of shock on his face. “I’ve got to get to work, but have a great day.”

  As she went about her work, a hymn the choir had sung at church yesterday morning whispered through Elena’s mind. Thankfully the ICU was quiet, and her only patient, Eugene Lawrence, was doing so much better today. A week ago he’d been mere inches from walking through death’s door; now he was sleeping comfortably, breathing easily—the pneumonia he’d contracted was a good 90 percent conquered—and the leg that had been amputated below the knee was beginning to heal.

  He might even go home soon.

  Elena hung a fresh bag of insulin on his IV pole and after listening to his lungs, went to his computerized chart to make some notes. As she worked, she hummed the tune, hoping her always off-key voice wouldn’t drive visitors away. Oh, how she wished she could sing. She’d been blessed with a lot of things in life, but sadly she sounded more like Tiny Tim than Barbra Streisand.

  She sat on the stool in front of the computer, her foot beating in time with her humming, and the words to the hymn came back to her:

  Sympathy of friends may cheer thee,

  When the raging storm is past,

  But God only can console thee,

  In the wild, terrific blast.

  “That’s a pretty tune.”

  Elena spun around. Mr. Lawrence was speaking. It was more of a croak, but they’d heard barely a word out of him since he came into the hospital. This was such a good sign.

  He smiled faintly. “I’m not sure I’ve heard it before.”

  Elena went to his bedside. “It’s a hymn. ‘Cast Thy Burden on the Lord.’” Elena smiled. Hope Haven Hospital cared for anyone and everyone: Christian, Jew, Muslim, atheist. In the hospital, she used her faith to help her in her work; she prayed for her patients, but she never preached.

  “How are you feeling?” She automatically focused on the monitors at the head of the bed, checking his vitals, liking everything that she saw.

  “Better than I have in weeks. Maybe months.”

  Mr. Lawrence reached down as if to scratch his lower leg, but it was gone, and he was startled. His frown was instantaneous. He tried feeling for it again and again and then finally gave up. Realization had dawned.

  “My wife, at least I think it was my wife, told me the doctors took my leg. I thought I must have dreamed that, but I guess not.”

  “It wasn’t a dream, Mr. Lawrence. It’s been a week since the surgery and well over a week since you came into the ICU.”

  “Have I been out all that time?”

  “Pretty much. We’ve had you on some awfully strong meds. You’re probably going to do a little hallucinating for the next few days. You might even forget where you are, but you’re in good hands. And knowing your wife, she’ll be here in a little while. She’s probably down in the cafeteria having breakfast right now.”

  His hand found Elena’s, and he squeezed it tight. “Do you want to tell me what happened, or should I wait and ask her?”

  She hesitated a moment and said, “You went into a diabetic coma. On top of that, you had gangrene.” She didn’t tell him about the cardiac arrest or the fact that he’d stopped breathing at one point. She didn’t tell him she’d given him CPR. There would be plenty of time for him to learn all the details. “You’re doing well now.” She smiled. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you were out of the ICU in a day or two.”

  He stretched in the bed, trying to get comfortable, and Elena helped with the addition of a few extra pillows placed under his head and under one side.

  “Pretty dumb of me to ignore my diabetes for so long.” He cleared his throat. “The doctor told me to check the bottom of my feet regularly, and if I couldn’t do it, to have someone else look for sores or cuts. But they felt fine to me, so I didn’t see the need to follow his directions.”

  “Excess sugar can damage the blood vessels that feed your nerves, especially the ones in your legs and feet,” Elena told him. “If it goes untreated for too long, you can lose all feeling. Unfortunately, it happens all too often.”

  Mr. Lawrence tried to fold his arms behind his head, but gave up when he realized he had an IV tube running into the back of one of his hands. “I didn’t test my blood sugar, either, and I didn’t take my meds. Too much trouble to down half a dozen pills morning and night.” He chuckled. “I knew the dangers but thought I was invincible. Me get gangrene? Nah, it would never happen. Even when my big toe started turning black, I…well, I didn’t think it was anything serious.”

  “We all like to think we’re invincible,” Elena said, thinking about herself, how she’d spent a week trying to convince herself there was nothing wrong with her, that maybe she was going into perimenopause or had a mild case of the flu or pulled muscles. She wanted to self-diagnose, but deep inside she’d known that was wrong. If she hadn’t waited, she would have seen the doctor by now. Instead, she had to wait until tomorrow.

  “You know,” Mr. Lawrence said, yawning as he fought to keep his eyes open. “I’m just thankful that all I lost was my leg. I could have lost my life and, well, you’ve met my wife…I have too much to live for.”

  Elena rested a hand on his shoulder. “It’s a tough way to learn a lesson, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” He smiled faintly, before closing his eyes again. “I won’t ignore my health or my doctor ever again.”

  He was asleep almost instantly, and Elena let his words soak in. She engraved them on her brain. They were words every person should live by. I won’t ignore my health or my doctor.

  Chapter Twelve

  THE CONFERENCE ROOM WAS ALREADY PACKED WHEN Elena walked in at two o’clock, filled with the familiar faces of friends and acquaintances who had agreed to be Walk for a Cure team captains or good old volunteers. Her arms were laden with posters she’d had printed over the weekend, a box of purple walk buttons, and Tshirts in all sizes that she’d ordered from the American Cancer Society. She’d learned long ago that giving out even the littlest thing could sometimes spur more excitement.

  “Thanks so much for coming.” Elena dropped almost all of the items on a credenza at the side of the room before passing out the agenda she’d put together late last night.

  “I’ll help you with that.” Nelson Bell jumped up from his seat next to Fern, grabbing half of the stack from Elena, and headed to the opposite side of the long conference table to hand one to each attendee.

  That was one of the reasons she’d been so thankful this morning when James had told her Nelson would be volunteering. He was a whiz. A good kid anyone could trust with anything. And he was so enthusiastic about volunteering, he’d left school early for this.

  “We have a lot to cover today.” She immediately got the short introduction for each person out of the way and got down to business. “At the top of the agenda, I’ve included the Web site information for the walk. Almost everything you could want to know you’ll find there, but you can contact me or Anabelle Scott if you have any questions.”

  Anabelle’s name had been a last-minute addition, and Elena was so thankful her friend had agreed to help field questions if necessary.

  “Our phone numbers here at the hospital, plus our home numbers and e-mail addresses, are listed on the back, along with the names of each of our team captains and their contact info.”

  After a few minutes exp
laining how the walk would work, since it was a completely new charity venture in Deerford, and something new that Hope Haven was sponsoring, she showed a video of a walk in action. It focused on the highlights, skipping the mundane details, giving her team a good picture of what they could expect.

  She spent a few minutes pumping up the volunteers, getting them energized and anxious to get started, and then turned to the pretty redhead sitting directly across from her. “Valera Kincaid, one of the reporters from the Dispatch, is a genius when it comes to promotion; we’re fortunate to have her handling all of the walk’s public relations. Could you give us a rundown on what you’re planning, Valera?”

  “First off, I’ve rounded up a great team of people to work with me.”

  Elena took a sip of the coffee Sarah had brought from the cafeteria and briefly stared at the yummy looking pastry, but decided not to give it a try, as she listened to Valera’s talk. She felt pretty good at the moment. She didn’t want that to change.

  “I’m sure many of you have seen Marny Jefferson anchoring the news on KWTR; I’m happy to tell you that she’s putting together a piece on cancer survivors, victims, and their families and how the walk honors them. Knowing Marny, the piece will be fabulous and should gain a lot of attention for the event when it’s broadcast.”

  Elena took copious notes, even though she and Valera had talked for nearly an hour on Saturday. She was so tired that she was afraid if she didn’t write everything down, she might forget; and taking notes helped to cement things in her mind.

  The meeting was going great, and then a twinge of pain pierced the left side of her pelvis. It was short. Gone in a flash, and somehow she stayed focused on what Valera was saying, her tone of voice infectious.

  “Word of mouth is our most important tool,” Valera continued, “so wearing your buttons and your Tshirts as often as you can—when you go to the grocery store, to the bank, the hair-dresser, the doctor, and everywhere else—is a terrific way to promote the walk.”

  Valera handed the people on either side of her a stack of papers and asked them to pass them around the table. “As Elena said, you can find a lot of fabulous information about the walk on the American Cancer Society’s Web site; but I’ve printed up some talking points that will help you explain the walk to everyone you meet. The more people we can get to take part, the better.”

  Anabelle spoke next, enthusiastically talking about Paint the Town Purple. Elena looked around the room at all of the friends who had responded to her calls for help and were listening attentively, offering suggestions and agreeing to take on additional tasks.

  Fern, who’d managed the administrative end of a medical clinic before her MS had ended her career, had agreed to captain the team that would handle the funds. Sarah, who’d learned so much working in the Hope Haven cafeteria would be in charge of food and drink. Anabelle’s schoolteacher daughter Kirstie along with Candace and Nelson, bless his heart, would work directly with Anabelle on Paint the Town Purple.

  Candace’s husband Heath sat in on the meeting too, along with his dad and Candace’s mom, both of them volunteers extraordinaire. Elena hadn’t expected any of them to be here, but they were, and all she could think was what a blessing it was to have such terrific friends.

  After discussing logistics for the walk and the various ceremonies, putting flyers and posters up around town, and a lot of other finite details, Elena closed the meeting with, “Now—come get your Tshirts, and let’s go out and get ’em!”

  Nelson had already volunteered to help hand out the Tshirts, and he rushed to the credenza, calling out sizes, taking over effectively, and not a moment too soon. She’d tried not to drink much of anything today, but still she had to go.

  She tried to sneak out of the room quietly, but when Fern looked at her nervously, Elena simply said, “I’ll be right back. Not to worry.”

  She made it to the ladies’ room not a moment too soon, and when she came out of the stall, she was again struck by the pain. She leaned back against the cool wall, breathing shallowly. The pain wasn’t all that intense, but her fear was. Now she was afraid of going into shock and breaking out into a cold sweat if she didn’t relax, if she started to hyperventilate.

  She didn’t hear the bathroom door opening, but she did hear Fern’s voice. “Are you all right?”

  “Just a stomachache,” Elena stated, offering Fern one of the same lame excuses she’d been giving everyone.

  Fern grabbed a handful of paper towels, soaked them with cold water, and wrung them out before placing them on Elena’s forehead. “Is there someplace you can lie down? Should I take you down to Emergency or at the very least, take you upstairs to see James so he can take your blood pressure and vitals.”

  “Thanks so much, Fern,” Elena said, then took another deep breath, “but I’m feeling better already.”

  Fern frowned. “Your face is white, you’ve got dark circles under your eyes. Are you sure you shouldn’t lie down for a bit?”

  “I really need to get back to the conference room in case some of the volunteers have questions.”

  “If the walk is exhausting you or causing you too much stress, maybe you should step down and let someone else take over.”

  Elena shook her head. “I’m sure there are half a dozen people who could take over, but the powers that be here at Hope Haven specifically asked me to head the event, and I can’t—I won’t let them down.”

  “People would understand, Elena. Even the powers that be would understand. No one wants you working if you’re not up to it.”

  Elena sighed. “I know, but it’s more than that. I’ve been around a lot of cancer patients, caring for them day in and day out, more often than not when they can’t go on much longer. Some of those people have been awfully strong. They know what’s happening to them; but they go and go, staying as positive as they can, right until the end. It might sound crazy, but I think I’ve been asked to chair the walk for a reason—a God-given reason. I think this is a way for me to give something back to the victims and the survivors of cancer, all of the people who’ve taught me how to have more patience. To accept God’s plan for us. You can understand that, can’t you?”

  Fern laughed, and the smile on her face said, I know exactly where you’re coming from. “It’s not always easy to understand why God puts us through turmoil or sickness, or asks us to push ourselves when we feel like we can’t go on any longer or when our friends or family tell us to slow down. We just need to have faith.”

  Elena nodded, wondering why the good Lord had afflicted Fern with MS. She might be in remission now, but that could always come to an abrupt halt. There were no guarantees of a healthy future with a debilitating disease like multiple sclerosis; but Fern was making the best of it, trusting God to lead her.

  Elena too was allowing God to lead her now—or at least trying to. She needed faith to get her through the next hurdle—her doctor’s appointment. It was less than twenty-four hours away; she just needed the patience not to go out of her mind with worry before then.

  She tossed the wet paper towels into the trash, linked her arm through Fern’s, and headed back toward the conference room. “Come on, my friend, let’s see where the good Lord leads.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  CESAR HADN’T SAT IN A DOCTOR’S EXAMINING ROOM with Elena since she was pregnant with Rafael—and that had been nearly twenty-nine years ago. As dark as the circles were under her eyes, Cesar’s were darker; and if she wasn’t mistaken, the hair at his temples had turned even grayer almost overnight. He wasn’t all that big on talk, but he’d held her closer than ever the past two nights, his heart beating strongly against her back.

  He was worried; so was she.

  Elena sat on the examining room table, fully clothed, the length of white paper crackling beneath her. The doctor would probably have a long talk with her before doing any kind of exam, and she wasn’t looking forward to that, either.

  Cesar sat in a corner chair, his forearms
resting on his knees as he stared at the boring pattern of mottled blue and tan on the floor. “Everything’s going to be okay,” Elena said, smiling when he looked up. “I’ve been praying for divine intervention.”

  “If anyone deserves it, it’s you.”

  “I don’t know about that, but it’s a nice thing for you to say.”

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His eyes were warm, full of concern. “Are you scared?”

  She wanted to sound positive. She’d had a lot of long talks with God, and He’d given her the strength to go through this. And really, she knew it wasn’t anything serious.

  It just couldn’t be.

  And if it was, her faith would get her through it. Hopefully her faith could get Cesar through it too.

  “I don’t think there’s any reason to be scared, but I am. How about you?”

  Cesar rubbed his eyes. “A little.”

  A quick knock sounded at the door and when it opened, Dr. Lydell entered the room, looking far too young for a family practitioner. He wasn’t all that tall and, truth be told, he wasn’t all that good looking, but he had an infectious smile and a brilliant way with words, which were just two of the reasons Elena insisted Rafael and Cesar see him whenever they needed a doctor’s care. The other reason had to do with his knowledge, but it was mostly his concern for his patients. He was compassionate; and, boy, did she need someone like that right now.

  Still, she also wanted him to be honest.

  “It’s good to see you, Cesar,” he said, shaking Cesar’s hand, and then he clasped Elena’s, holding it tight. His fingers and palms were warm; hers were ice cold, almost to the point of being painful.

  “You’re shaking,” he said. “Something tells me you’re nervous about being here today.”

  “More than nervous,” Elena admitted, and told Dr. Lydell what she hadn’t been able to fully tell Cesar. “Scared half out of my wits. Afraid something’s terribly wrong with me.”