A Miracle of Hope (The Amish Wonders Series) (36 page)

He’d felt stronger—more alive—before starting the chemotherapy. He’d preferred the night sweats. Even the deep-seated cough that made his ribs feel bruised was better than being off-center from the chemo treatment. It was better than spending the day vomiting, or worse yet, having dry heaves that left him hoarse.

“Your blood pressure and pulse are within normal range,” the nurse said. “Are you feeling nauseated?”

“Not yet.” That usually happened on the ride home.

He rolled his sleeve down to cover his hairless arm. His beard and head would be next. As it was, the bald spots made him look as though he had mange. It bothered him more this time. It wasn’t
vanity, at least he prayed it wasn’t. He didn’t want his daughter to remember him without a beard. He’d started growing it after he and Caroline were married, and Hannah was too young to remember when the chemo caused it to fall out the last time. Perhaps his reasoning was vain after all. He stood. No lightheadedness, balance seemed okay. He ambled to the door.

The doctor’s office door was cracked and muffled voices filtered out.
Lindie
. Doctor Ethridge must have asked her to join them. Josiah sucked in a deep breath and tapped on the door. It opened on its own and the doctor waved him in.

Lindie bounded off the chair and was at his side the moment he stepped into the room. “Let me help you,” she said.

Self-rendered in defeat, he didn’t object to her circling her arm around his waist. As if things couldn’t get more belittling, she told him where to sit. He wasn’t blind. He could find the chair. He should be the one helping her. Her belly had grown to where she probably couldn’t see her feet anymore.

“How are you feeling?” the doctor asked.

“I’ve felt better.”
Understated
.

A light tap on the door preceded the nurse entering the room. “Here is Mr. Plank’s chart. I recorded his vitals and lab results.”

“Thank you.” Doctor Ethridge opened the file.

Josiah studied the doctor’s reaction as he reviewed the information. Stolid. Did Lindie notice the doctor’s lack of expression too? Josiah didn’t dare look her way. He gave the doctor a moment to review the chart, then cleared his throat. “Has my condition improved?”

“No, I’m afraid not.” Doctor Ethridge rubbed his jaw. “Your platelet count is falling and so are the white blood cells.”

None of that made sense to Josiah. He peeked at Lindie, who
was chewing her bottom lip. He turned away before her rapid blinking set loose a cascade of tears.

“Are you saying we should stop?” Josiah asked.

“You need a bone marrow transplant.” He rubbed his forehead.

“But we know that isn’t going to happen.”

“Josiah.” Lindie reached over for his hand. “Don’t say that until you hear—”

“Lindie”—his tone was sharper than he wished, so he paused until he could control his voice—“we talked about this.”

“You must keep hope alive.”

The extent of hope he could muster now amounted to hoping for a peaceful passing. He didn’t want to fight this battle. He leaned his head back against the chair and closed his eyes.

“Are you feeling sick?”

“Just resting.” Mostly to avoid seeing the disappointment in her eyes.

“I’ve already mentioned this to Lindie,” Doctor Ethridge said. “There has been some success with implanting stem cells from an umbilical cord.”

Umbilical cord
. . .
He spoke with Lindie?
His heart thumped against his ribs as the words registered. Josiah shot open his eyes.
“Nay!”
He shifted in his seat to face Lindie. “You’re
nett
jeopardizing the
boppli
. How could you consider—”

“The baby won’t be harmed,” the doctor said. “Lindie was a partial match. Not good enough, but the baby’s cord is a foreseeable alternative.”

Lindie nodded.

Josiah stared at her. Hard. Did she forget he wasn’t the baby’s father? There wouldn’t be a match. “I don’t think you’ve thought this through,” he said. He turned to Doctor Ethridge. “Perhaps
Lindie hasn’t explained. I’m not the father.” Her sharp intake of breath answered the question, but he continued anyway. “The baby wouldn’t be a match.”

Without the slightest reaction, Doctor Ethridge folded his hands and rested them on the desk. “I understand your concern. Of course given your Amish heritage and the rarity of your blood type, it would be better if the baby was yours, or at least from another Amish.” He glanced at Lindie.

She shook her head.

“A significant amount of data shows that an embryonic stem-cell transplant is a viable option in cases where a bone marrow match hasn’t been found. Even a marginal match has shown some success. It’s an option to consider.”

Josiah lowered his head and nodded even though his mind hadn’t had time to sift all the information.

“There is a drawback,” the doctor said.

Josiah lifted his head.

“Doctor Cole, who has agreed to take your case, doesn’t practice in the state of Michigan. You would have to relocate.”

“To where?”

“His clinic is in Cleveland, Ohio.”

“That’s perfect.” Lindie’s face lit. “That isn’t too far from Middlefield. We can stay with Eli and Margaret and get an
Englisch
driver to take us to the clinic.” She spoke fast and used animated hand gestures.

The cost hadn’t dawned on her yet. It was highly unlikely that Doctor Cole would trade services for Amish-built furniture.

“Josiah, don’t you think it’s
wunderbaar
? An answer to prayer,
jah
?”

“Is there any way you can do it here?” he asked Doctor Ethridge.

He shook his head. “That’s outside my scope of practice, but Doctor Cole is an excellent physician. He leads the research team.”

“But he’s probably expensive. I can’t afford—”

Doctor Ethridge lifted his hand. “I’ve already explained that you don’t have insurance and that your finances are limited.”

“And he will work with me on a payment plan?”

“He plans to add you to his research study so grant money will cover your expenses, excluding transportation and living expenses. However, he isn’t sure about the baby delivery. He said he would check with the hospital administration about their Good Samaritan program and see if there is something that can be done.”

Lindie, perched on the edge of her seat, leaned forward. “We have midwives in my district. I don’t have to go to the hospital.”

Doctor Ethridge shook his head. “I’m sure Doctor Cole will want the umbilical cord immediately after delivery.”

She wilted against the back cushion of the chair.

“That’s a lot of details to work out before Lindie has the baby,” Josiah said. “She’s due in two and a half months.”

“Doctor Cole requested you come now so they can do a pre-workup. It’s also a good idea for Lindie to get established with a physician there as soon as possible in the chance she does deliver early.” He tapped the closed file. “I’ll have copies printed of both of your charts so you can take the records with you.”

Lindie reached her hand out to Josiah’s as though she sensed his apprehension. “This is
gut
news,
jah
?”

He forced a smile. “A lot to think about.”

Time isn’t a luxury we have
. Lindie wanted to scream. Josiah needed a transplant. Why was he hesitating?

Doctor Ethridge tore a prescription off his pad and handed it to Josiah. “This will help stimulate your appetite.”

Josiah folded the paper in half and shoved it into his pocket.

Doctor Ethridge slid his chair back from his desk and stood. “Talk it over and let me know what you decide.”

She tried to prod him with her eyes to accept now, but he avoided her completely and merely nodded at the doctor.

“When can we pick up a copy of the records?” She wasn’t wishy-washy. This news was the morsel of hope they needed.

“Check with my receptionist at the front desk before you leave. I’m sure she can have them ready by tomorrow.”

Lindie stopped at the office window, signed the papers to release the records, and arranged to pick them up the following day. Josiah had gone ahead and was untying Molly from the post when she reached the buggy.

He handed her the reins. She’d driven home after the last infusion so it wasn’t a surprise when he climbed into the passenger side. His silence rattled her.

“I’ll stop at the drugstore so we can get the prescription filled.”

“
Nay
,” he said quietly. “Let’s go home.”

“It’s going to help your appetite.” He simply looked at her with a hardened stare and she clamped her mouth closed. Maybe his cottony-white complexion had something to do with his snappiness. She pulled back on the reins, slowing Molly. “You don’t look well. Should I pull over?”

“
Jah
, you might better. I’m feeling queasy.”

A spot opened along the curb in front of the drugstore and she stopped the horse.

He didn’t jump out immediately. His eyes closed and he drew in a long breath and released it. “It might pass,” he said.

“You rest a minute. I’m going to drop off your prescription.” She scurried off the bench before he said something to stop her, but got to the door and had to turn around. “I need the prescription.”

He made a muffled noise, something between a groan and growl, and dug his hand into his pocket. “It didn’t work the last time.”

“You’ve lost too much weight
nett
to try. Besides, I’m lonely eating without you.”

The hardness in his eyes disappeared in a flash. He bowed his head. “I’m sorry you have to go through this, Lindie.”

She reached for his hand. “Don’t apologize. I’m your
fraa
. I love you.”

Once Lindie helped Josiah into bed, she filled Simon in on the good news. With Hannah visiting her father, Lindie could speak openly.

“I think this treatment in Ohio will work, but Josiah is discouraged. He keeps telling me
nett
to get
mei
hopes up.”

Simon nodded. “He knows how sick he is and he’s concerned about you.”

“He needs to be concerned about eating. He’s
nett
going to regain his strength without proper nourishment.”

Simon’s smile looked strained. “You’ve taken
gut
care of Josiah and Hannah.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry that I gave you a hard time when you first arrived.”

“I understand. It would have been difficult to lose Caroline and then to lose your
fraa
less than a year later.”

He nodded. “I didn’t want to lose Josiah and Hannah too.”

Lindie reached out and patted Simon’s hand. “That won’t ever happen.”

“God had a reason for sending you.” Simon nodded as though affirming his statement. “Josiah needed a helpmate.”

“
Denki
, Simon.” Denki
, God, for bringing us all together as a family
.

Hannah shuffled into the kitchen, her eyes blotchy and swollen.

Lindie wrapped the girl in a hug, then pulled back to ask what was wrong. The only thing she could decipher from Hannah’s reply was her prayers didn’t work. “
Mei
father is sick.”

Simon confirmed what Hannah had signed.

Lindie released Hannah. “I better check on him.”

Simon stretched out his arms toward Hannah and hugged his granddaughter as Lindie rushed out of the room.

“I wish you would have taken her out.” Bent over the bed, Josiah dry heaved into the trash can. “I didn’t want her to see me like this.” His throat sounded hoarse. He flopped back on his pillow, sweat rolling down his face.

She removed the glass of water from the side table and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Take a sip of water. Your throat will feel better.”

His hand trembled as he lifted the glass to his mouth.

Lindie made a mental to-do list. She would write Eli and Margaret tonight. Her brother and sister-in-law had plenty of room with the empty
grossdaadi haus
.

Josiah handed her back the glass.
“Denki.”

“I’m going to let Eli know we’re coming. Do you want me to have him go over to your parents’ district and talk with them in person? Or should I send them a note to tell them when we will be arriving?”