by Ace Collins
“You know, even when you were calling me and leaving those posters all over everywhere, making my life a living hell, I could understand why you were doing it. Now I know that you weren’t right, but you loved your husband so much that you were willing to do anything and give everything to do something for him. That was real love, the kind I’d never known. It may have been misdirected, but it was real. If I’d been killed by someone like me, no one would have cared enough to give a second thought to punishing my killer.”
“Jim,” Meg said quietly, “what I displayed wasn’t love, it was pure, selfish hate. Real love would have reached out to you and seen your needs. I missed those. I’m not sure that I knew what real unselfish love was until I had almost killed you.”
“Mrs. Richards,” Thomas smiled, his hand touching hers. “You didn’t make me try to kill myself. I was looking for something, and if my parents or my friends had helped I might have had the strength to make it through what you did to me. Being hated is not that big a deal, but not being loved is. Now, thanks to you, I know that at least God loves me. That’ll do for now.”
Nodding in approval, Meg turned and walked toward Heather. Thomas hesitated for a moment before walking off in the opposite direction. Suddenly stopping, Meg whirled around and hollered at her one-time enemy.
“Do you really think we made an impact tonight?”
He nodded.
“Would you like to work together—you and me?” she asked. “I think that by showing both sides of this story honestly we could wake some people up. Besides, I believe what God has been able to do in bringing us together is something people need to see, too. So do you want to give it a try?”
Smiling, Jim responded, “I’d like that a lot.”
“Okay, then,” Meg replied enthusiastically, “I’ll call you soon. And I won’t hang up this time.”
The boy waved and walked across the stage toward the steps that led to the floor. But before he got completely out of earshot, Meg’s voice caught his attention one more time.
“Jim,” she shouted. “God does love you, and I do, too. Don’t ever doubt that or forget it.”
Thomas didn’t respond with any more than a small wave but she knew her words had struck home. He would be all right from now on.
“Well,” a smiling Heather noted as the two of them left the school and got into the car, “I’m proud of you, Meg. You’re something very special. I’m glad that I came along, even if you didn’t need a nurse.”
“Thanks, Heather,” Meg answered, “but you are needed.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been experiencing labor pains for at least half an hour, and if you don’t hurry and get to the hospital, you may get to deliver this child yourself. So let’s get moving!”
59
FOR THE NEXT FEW HOURS, AS HER LABOR PROGRESSED AT A NORMAL RATE, Meg thought mostly about Steve and how much he had looked forward to this moment. Even though this brought a degree of pain, it no longer created feelings of hate. She was fine now, lonely but fine. She could now remember and not want to die. She could think of good times with a smile. She was healing.
Meg glanced over at Heather, who was almost asleep in a far chair. The combination of getting up early for work and now having to stay with Meg all night had taken its toll.
“Heather,” Meg whispered.
“Huh?” came the startled reply.
“You fogging out on me?”
“No,” Heather answered, rubbing her face, “I just had something in my eye, and I thought that if I closed it for a moment it might find its way out.”
“Sure!”
“No, I’m serious.”
“Hi, you two lucky, off-duty nurses.” Jan’s greeting was typical of her cheery “it’s time for a laugh” manner. After checking Meg’s vitals and the baby’s heart rate, she announced, “I have some good news and some bad news. Which do you want to hear first?”
“My baby,” Meg gasped, fearing the worst, “it’s all right?”
“Beating away at 140,” Jan answered.
“Then what?” Heather asked.
“Which do you want first?” the on-duty nurse asked again.
“The bad!” both Heather and Meg yelled back.
“Okay, Dr. Colvin has taken ill. Nothing serious, but he had to go home.”
“So what’s the other part?” Meg demanded.
“Because old Otis can’t be here, we’ve decided you’ll have to go home and have the baby another time!”
“Sure, Greer,” Meg shrugged, “now that you’ve made your weak attempt at humor, tell us what is really going on.”
“Didn’t you like my joke?” Jan seemed genuinely disappointed. “All right, here is the real story. Otis is sick and he’s calling in a sub. The sub is Dr. Drew Meyer. He just joined the staff, and if you haven’t seen him . . . well, suffice it to say, he is a hunk. One look at him, Meg, and you won’t need any anesthesia.”
Meg was very disappointed Dr. Colvin couldn’t be the one to deliver her baby. He’d delivered her, and she had such faith in him. After a moment of contemplating the change, she looked back at Jan and asked, “Tell me about this new guy.”
“Well,” the nurse began, “he’s about six-foot-two, has these dreamy blue eyes, and . . .”
“Not that,” Meg cut her off. “I don’t care what he looks like. Where did he come from?”
“Oh, that.” Jan sounded very disappointed. “He’s from Arkansas. I think he went to Rice Med. I know that he worked in some highly experimental programs for a few years. Dr. Colvin was as pleased as punch that we got him. The only reason he ended up here, rather than a big-city hospital, was that he had an uncle or someone who lived in Springfield who needed some kind of help. Evidently, the old man didn’t have any kids, and Drew was the only one willing to step up to the plate. When you see him, you won’t put me down for talking about his looks. I mean, this guy is a real . . .” Evidently noting Meg’s bored expression, she cut her observation short and continued with the professional run down.
“Don’t worry about it, you’re in good hands.” Jan couldn’t resist adding, “Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be in his hands!”
“Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?” Heather asked.
“No,” Jan answered. “Meg is my only patient right now.”
“Why don’t you go find another one?” Heather suggested.
“Okay,” Jan acted hurt, even though she wasn’t, “I can take a hint. I’ll go check the streets. Maybe they’re filled with pregnant ladies in labor tonight! Later, girls!” With a wave, she was gone.
“Can you believe her?” Heather asked.
“Sure,” Meg responded. “She acts just like you.”
The two women grinned at each other and waited as the time slowly passed and the contractions grew closer and closer together. Eventually Meg became interested in a late-night talk show, and Heather once again drifted off. Then a male voice brought both of them back into the present.
“I understand that one of you is having a baby. Now which one is it?”
“Jan was right!” Heather said.
“By Jan, I assume that you’re talking about Nurse Greer. Now what was she so right about?” the doctor asked.
Realizing what she had said, Heather attempted to cover up her embarrassment by explaining herself. “Well, what I mean is that Jan said you were a good doctor.”
Sensing her explanation had backed her even deeper into a corner, she tried again. “What she said was that you would be here just when I needed you.” Satisfied that she had extracted herself from the hole she had put herself in, Heather smiled.
“Why do you need me?” the doctor asked Heather.
“No,” Heather stammered, “I didn’t mean me. I meant we. When we needed you.”
The doctor cut her off and offered his hand. “My name is Dr. Meyer, but you can call me Drew. Now, if you can remember, I’d like to know your name?”
“A-a-a Heat
her,” the nurse answered while gazing into his eyes. “Heather Rodgers. I’m a nurse.”
“Congratulations. You know your name and your occupation. We’ll go for the birth date tomorrow.” Smiling at Meg, he understatedly asked, “I take it you’re having the baby?”
“What was your first clue?” Meg groaned.
“Oh, I really had an unfair advantage,” the doctor answered, a gleam now evident in his eye. “I saw a picture of a pregnant woman is a medical book once, it must have been about five years ago, and you look a whole lot like that. You did pose for that picture, didn’t you?”
“No!” Meg smiled. “Five years ago I was much thinner.”
“Anyway,” the doctor continued, “you can call me Drew, and your name is?”
Meg, taking the same tact, responded, “I have a feeling that since you’ve already looked at my chart you know my name. But just in case you don’t know what a chart is, it’s Meg.”
“The charts at this hospital are called Meg?” he asked, almost seriously.
“No,” Meg smiled. “I am! And having Jan doing stand up comedy is enough for one hospital.”
“Well, then, I will cut the jokes and take a look at you, Meg.”
After a few moments of examination, complete with a great deal of the expected poking and prodding, Drew smiled and offhandedly remarked, “You’re right! You’re going to have a baby. As a matter of fact, pretty soon! So I’ll get some folks, and we’ll take you to the delivery room.”
“Oh, my,” Heather sighed after the doctor left. “Jan was right. He is a hunk.”
“Heather,” Meg inquired, “were you working on your breathing exercises while he was in here?”
Blushing, Heather turned her back to Meg and pretended to search for something in her purse. A minute later, Jan reentered the room, took one look at Heather, shrugged her shoulders, and stated, “I don’t have to ask what you thought of the good doctor, it’s written all over your face.” Turning toward Meg, she then added, “Do you suppose we can bring her down to earth long enough to get her to help me get you across the hall?”
Jan’s request resulted in immediate action and within moments, Meg found herself in the delivery room. The contractions were now very close together and much more intense. She watched as a team of nurses, including Meg’s old friend Molli, hooked up monitors to measure all her vital signs. She smiled when they finally started the fetal heart monitor. As the machine echoed at a steady rate, Jan announced to everyone, “Told you all that it was going to be a girl. Look at that, a pulse rate right at 145. You got any girls’ names picked out, Meg?”
Meg just shook her head and then added her own insight. “Sorry, Jan, it is going to be a boy.”
She knew she was just minutes away from holding her child, and everything was proceeding just as it should be. Steve would have been so proud of her. She was doing this without anything for the pain. Looking up at Heather, she observed, “You know, Steve always said I was such a wimp when it came to pain. But look at me, I’m doing great. No problems at all.”
No sooner had she spoken than she suddenly felt like someone had jabbed a pitchfork into her side. She screamed twice and then groaned, “What was that?”
“That was pain, wimp,” Heather answered. “Now, breathe.”
“Coming down nicely,” the doctor said as he reentered the room and checked Meg’s progress. “Did you say something a while ago, young lady? I thought I heard you way down the hall.”
Meg shook her head, knowing her scream had probably awakened the whole wing. After Dr. Meyer smiled at his patient, he looked toward Molli and said, “Okay, let’s disconnect the external monitor and introduce the internal one.”
Meg immediately missed the clip-clapping of the baby’s heartbeat when the nurse pulled the external monitor. The steady sound helped take her mind off the pain. Still, she knew it wouldn’t be more than a few seconds before the internal one was introduced and the steady beat would return.
After a few moments, she heard Dr. Meyer’s voice, muffled by his mask. “Why don’t you go ahead and put the external back in place.”
If Meg hadn’t been a nurse, she might have been worried. But there was no urgency in the doctor’s voice, and she knew that occasionally an internal just can’t be positioned properly. Molli placed the external back into its previous position. But there was no sound. Meg looked up and urged the nurse on, “C’mon, Molli, get it right. The baby’s moved a little. Just find him. Surely after as many times as you’ve done this, you can get it in the right place. You had it a while ago. Just find it again.”
As the seconds ticked by, Molli struggled to once again position the monitor and find the baby’s heartbeat. Shrugging her shoulders at the doctor, she continued to search. It had now been almost a minute and then she got something.
“Lub-dub . . . lub-dub . . . lub-dub.”
The machine and the heart sounded much different just a few moments before. Something wasn’t right. That heartbeat was too slow. Meg counted then she looked up at Heather and saw the worry on her face.
“Doctor, we’re at less than thirty,” Molli calmly but urgently stated. “We appear to be . . .” She didn’t finish her statement. She didn’t need to.
Dr. Meyer already knew what she was going to say, and he was frantically moving his hand around in the birth canal. “Nurse, get me some Betadine,” he ordered.
Looking around the room, Jan quickly replied, “I don’t see any, doctor.”
“There is some PhisoHex over there,” Meg jumped in, the nurse in her taking over and attempting to control her fear as a mother facing the prospect of losing her baby.
“Okay, that’ll do. Hand it here!” the doctor answered as he reached to grab it. Refusing to wait until someone told her something, Meg asked, “Is it the cord?”
“Yeah, Meg, it is.” Suddenly the doctor sounded like an old friend, not someone she had just met. His manner, his eyes, and his relaxed control told her that she was in good hands. She had faith in this man.
Looking back at him, she nodded and calmly said, “We had better go for it, hadn’t we? After all, it’s our only real option. C’mon, get the knife out! I don’t care if it kills me, cut me! Save my baby! I don’t want to hear the ‘dark music’ again.”
“What?” the doctor asked.
“Nothing,” Meg sadly replied.
60
OKAY FOLKS, LET’S GET READY FOR A STAT,” DR. MEYER BARKED.
Jan flew out of the room barking out orders. “You, scrub for a C-section on the double. Molli, get me an anesthesia and a permit. Get Dr. Jones here and make it snappy. Come on, folks, a life is in danger. Move it! Move it!”
Barbara Hankins had just arrived in the waiting room when all of the activity broke loose. Grabbing Jan as she ran by, she asked “What’s going on?”
“It’s under control,” Jan answered. Then seeing Heather coming out into the hall, she hollered, “Heather, tell Meg’s mother what’s going down!”
“Ms. Hankins,” Heather’s anxious greeting belied her obvious fear. “There’s not that much to worry about.” Then she looked back toward the delivery room and added, “They know what they’re doing in there.”
“What’s the problem? Is it my daughter?”
Shaking her head, Heather took a deep breath to calm herself down and then explained, “It seems that the umbilical cord is wound in such a way that combined with the pressure caused by Meg’s pelvic bone it is acting kind of like a tourniquet. It’s cutting off the baby’s blood supply.”
After taking a moment to comprehend what she’d been told, Mrs. Hankins grabbed Heather’s arm and demanded, “What’s going on? What are they doing? Is the baby going to die? Meg can’t take another tragedy in her life. It would kill her. I think it would kill me, too.”
“Don’t worry,” Heather’s show of confidence was immediately reassuring to the woman. “They’re going to have to do a C-section and we all know that’s pretty common. Jan is just pu
tting the team together right now.”
“Where’s Dr. Colvin? Is he with her?” Barbara looked past Heather hoping to see inside the room, but the door was shut.
“No, he’s sick,” Heather explained. “But Dr. Meyer is there, and he’s very good. I mean, this is his specialty.”
The nurse didn’t really know if her last statement was correct, but she knew that the words would help keep Barbara calm. Leading the woman by the arm, Heather suggested, “Let’s go over here and sit down. After all, in a few moments you’re going to be a grandmother. We need to talk about this.”
61
IN THE ROOM, THE MONITOR WAS STILL REGISTERING A VERY SLOW HEART rate. Dr. Meyer did the best he could to relieve the pressure on the baby’s neck, but time was not on his side. Meg knew that he had two, maybe three, minutes left and then, even if the baby survived, there would probably be brain damage.
Hearing a voice, he glanced up. “Did you say something?” he asked Meg.
Sweat was pouring down Meg’s face. Her hospital gown was drenched.
“I was praying,” Meg answered.
Nodding, the doctor asked, “You want to pray together?”
“That would be nice,” Meg moaned, as another series of sharp pains hit her.
“Okay,” Dr. Meyer answered. “Seeing as how you’re so involved in making those breathing exercises work, I’ll start.
“Lord, each child is special, and we all know that. But I can see that this child has a very special mother, a mother who can teach him more with a gentle look than most people can with a lifetime of words. Please, give us the ability and the faith to use what we’ve learned to give this child life. We now entrust our abilities and training to Your hands. Amen.”
“Amen,” Meg breathed.
Molli hurried back into the room. “Everything’s set. Everyone will be here in a matter of seconds.” Then, stopping to look at the monitor, she cried out, “Doctor. The baby’s heartbeat has increased to fifty!”
The door burst opened and four more figures rushed in. “Jones here, Dr. Meyer. Sorry we haven’t had a chance to meet until now.”