Fertility: A Novel (32 page)

She listened quietly. Could this be the same Rick, so full of jokes and bravado? This was a part of him that she knew nothing about.

“Now that I’m a doctor, I know that it happens every day and everyone who works here knows it’s just part of people being sick and getting better. As hard as it is to believe, no one here attaches any shame to it. We just deal with it.

“That’s all I wanted to say, really. I’m just sorry that you had to go through that. I’ll leave you to get some sleep.” As he stood up, he kissed the top of her head.

The tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry I screamed at you. I am. It was very kind of you to tell me what you just did.”

“Sarah, you’re gonna get better, and you’ll be able to bury what happened tonight if you want to — bury it under good times and ordinary days.”

Sarah found it hard to imagine. “You think so?”

“I know so. I know you’re going to get well. I was there — where you are — but worse off. And look at me today, a well-oiled machine of health and vigor. Want to see me drop to the floor and give you ten?” he asked, smiling in the dark.

“You’re a nut, you know that?” she said through her tears.

“A good nut, I hope.”

“Yeah, a good nut.”

“But no kidding, Sarah, I healed up just fine and you will, too. You’ll be doing push-ups before you know it.”

“It’s hard to believe.”

“I know it is. But I’m not telling you this because I’m a doc. I’m telling you this because I lived it. I know I’m right.”

“Well, I hope so.”

“You can bet your last cent on it.”

“Thank you, Rick. I appreciate you coming. Good night.”

“Good night.” He kissed Sarah’s hand, made a deep bow and left her alone in the darkness.

* * *

Sleep eluded Sarah. She would drop off for a bit and then awaken. She felt as though she was skimming along the top of the reservoir of deep sleep, unable to plumb its depths. Terrible thoughts came into her mind, thoughts about how dying in the accident would have been preferable. But then she thought of Anna. Anna deserved to live.

Finally, sleep came to Sarah, but it brought her back to the terror of being buried under the rubble. She started screaming, “Help, help, I’m in here. I’m pregnant. Save me. Save me.” The screams brought the night nurse bounding into her room. When she turned on the overhead light she saw Sarah thrashing violently and the IV pulled out of her arm.

“Hey, Sarah. It’s okay, honey. Wake up, Sarah. You’re in the hospital and you’re having a bad dream. You’re safe and I’m here with you,” said the nurse. Finally, her patient opened her eyes.

“What’s happening?” the panic-stricken Sarah panted.

“You were having a bad dream, honey. I’m your nurse tonight. My name is Gail. I worked with you on your first night here.”

“Bad dream? It was awful. I was buried, but I was still alive.”

“Lots of people have bad dreams after a trauma. I bet if you go back to sleep, though, you’ll be just fine,” the nurse soothed.

“I can’t take a chance of it happening again.”

“Tell you what. I’ll get you some warm milk and a fresh gown. This one looks like it’s a little worse for wear.”

That’s when Sarah realized it was soaked through with her sweat. “All right. Whatever you think.”

“That’s what I think. I’ll be right back with Nurse Gail’s cure.”

When she returned, she helped Sarah get out of her cold, wet gown. She tied the fresh one in the back and then handed her patient the cup of warm milk. She restarted her IV, announcing, “There. Now you’re as good as new.”

Sarah couldn’t remember the last time she’d had warm milk. She took sips out of a sense of gratitude to the nurse. After Gail left, Sarah put the cup aside and turned on the television. There was no way she was going to risk falling asleep again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

When Jeff came in to check on Sarah the next morning, he brought along only the chief resident, Michael Lyi. Rick had relayed how unglued Sarah had become after losing control of her bowels. Jeff figured she could do without the embarrassment of discussing the ramifications of the experience in front of a gaggle of doctors in training.

“Good morning, Sarah,” he said as he walked into her room exuding an air of good cheer. “It’s just me and Dr. Lyi this morning. How are you feeling?”

“Okay.”

“Just okay? How’s the pain today?”

“The usual,” she said without expression.

He looked on her chart for her vitals and latest labs. Everything was unchanged from the previous afternoon, but Sarah was changed. Her affect was flat; her face revealed no emotion.

“How did you sleep?”

“Not well.”

“If you’d like, I can order something to help you sleep tonight,” Jeff offered.

“Okay.”

It was like pulling teeth to get anything out of her, and he had yet to bring up the topic she likely had no interest in revisiting. “Sarah, I understand that the laxatives and stool softeners had rather a more powerful effect than we had expected. I’m very sorry about that.”

“Me, too. I’m sorry for those poor people who had to clean me up and clean up the room.”

“I don’t want you to worry about that, Sarah. It happens. Actually, it happens a lot,” Jeff said. He looked at Dr. Lyi for confirmation.

“Yes, it’s common in the hospital. Not pleasant for the patient, but just part of everyday life here,” the chief resident said.

“Well, maybe you all should consider getting another life.”

Undeterred, Dr. Lyi continued. “No chance of that. We like it here. We take the bad along with the good, because we get to help people regain their health and send them on their way.”

“I guess that’s what makes the world go round,” Sarah replied, making it clear she was finding the conversation tiresome.

Jeff wondered if he should consider a psych consult. But first he had to get to the business at hand. “Sarah, remember how I said we would close up your wounds and get you off the IV today?”

She nodded.

“Because of the contamination last night, I’m going to have to wait on both of those things. If all looks good in a day or two, we’ll stitch you up and move you to oral meds,” Jeff explained, hoping to get some response from Sarah. He would have actually welcomed some spirited disagreement.

“Whatever you say.”

“And Sarah, we can’t have another contamination of the wound sites. I understand it was impossible for you to prevent what happened last night, but I’m going to ask you to think of the bedpan as your best friend until we can get your system regulated.”

Sarah sighed. “Yet another endorsement for the bedpan,”

“Let me be clear. Infection is the biggest threat to your recovery, hands down. Anything that can help prevent wound contamination is a good thing. In this case, when you sense that urgency, the safest thing is a bedpan.”

“Whatever you say.”

“And Sarah, we’re going to continue serial irrigation and debridement today and see what tomorrow brings.”

“Fine.”

“Dr. Lyi, do you have anything to add?” Jeff asked, signaling the need for some backup. The chief resident took the hint.

“Actually, I do. Dr. Gotbaum has outlined a conservative course of treatment that will give you the best shot of healing well. I know this has got to be very hard for you. But if you hold on, the combination of our treatment and your own body’s power to heal itself will do its magic.”

“Thank you for the pep talk.”

“Any time. You have a lot to look forward to, Ms. Abadhi. You just have to give yourself some time.”

“Time seems to be the only thing I have right now,” she said wearily.

That did it for Jeff. He ordered a psych consult for later that day.

* * *

Jeff wasn’t the only one worried by the change in Sarah. To her parents, it seemed that her spirit had drained away. Eva noticed immediately that Sarah wasn’t wearing her pretty new nightshirt and that it was nowhere to be found in the room. She had no appetite for the omelet Eva brought and the latte was left to grow cold on her tray. Her eyes lit up a bit when she saw Anna, but even the baby couldn’t lift her mood. Both Joseph and Eva were at a loss to understand what had happened to their daughter.

With Dr. Gotbaum nowhere to be found, Joseph sought out Sarah’s nurse. She assured him there was no change in Sarah’s physical status, but she relayed the note on her chart about a nightmare around one in the morning. And then there was the incident of the fecal incontinence the prior evening.

Satisfied that he had some explanation for the change in Sarah, he headed back to her room. He found Eva and the baby in the corridor, evicted by the physical therapist and her aide. While he shared with Eva what he’d learned from the nurse, he watched the therapy session through the crack in the door. To his relief, Sarah was able to get off the bed and do whatever was asked of her, albeit with great effort. Perhaps her change in mood could be chalked up to the rough night she’d had.

It wasn’t the best time to leave for work, but Eva assured him the Abadhi women could manage alone for the rest of the day. When at last the door opened, Eva heard Sarah say she was worn out and wanted to get back in bed. Once there, Eva had to encourage her to hold the baby.

Eva knew what was eating her daughter. Even as a preschooler, Sarah had become inconsolable the couple of times she’d wet herself. Just as Eva was about to gingerly broach the subject of the previous night’s mishap, there was a surprise visitor at the door.

“Hello, hello. It’s your Bubbe Rivka. Hello, hello.”

Eva couldn’t believe her eyes. There sat her mother in a wheelchair being pushed by a gray-haired hospital volunteer. A small overnight bag sat on her lap.

“Momma, what are you doing here? How in the world did you get here?”

“Some hello dat is! Vat do you tink? I hired someone to drive me since you and Joseph ver too buzy to pick me up and brink me to see my darlink granddaughter and her new baby,” Rivka said, her voice dripping with reproach.

“You hired someone to drive you all the way from Coney Island?”

“Vat? You want I shoult push and shove in da trains? Dose days are over for dis bubbe. I got no desire to be a sardine in a tin can,” Rivka said, dismissing the mere hint that she might have used the subway to get to the hospital.

Eva cut to the chase. “Who drove you?”

“Who else? Lillian Goldberk’s goot-for-notink son. He’s back living vit his momma again. The whole vay here I hat to listen to his
schpiel
about how hart it is to get vork in dis economy. But I’d like to know vat he vas doink ven de economy vas boomink. Of course, I kept my mout shut, but it’s no secret — a ball of fire he’s not.”

As entertaining as she found her passenger, the volunteer hinted that it was time she returned the wheelchair to the lobby. Rivka responded, “Of course, darlink. You’ve been very kint. Tank you for de ride.” She stood up, straight as an arrow, and patted the volunteer’s hand. Then she put down her bag and proceeded to fulfill her mission of seeing her first great-grandchild in the arms of her granddaughter.

She took a long, hard look at the baby, drinking in every detail of her tiny face and hands. “
Kayn aynhoreh
, she’s a beauty, Sarah.
A be kezunt
. Such a
shana maidela
. She remints me of you. Vat a
kleine mamela
you vere ven you vere a baby.
Mazel tov, mein kint
,” Rivka said, putting her small wrinkled hand on Sarah’s cheek.

Then Rivka took a good look at her granddaughter and realized that something was terribly wrong. When she’d asked Eva or Joseph on the phone how Sarah was, they had repeatedly said she was all right. But she could see for herself that they’d lied. Not only was Sarah’s face cut and bruised and her leg encased in a strange contraption, there was a resignation in her eyes that Rivka had seen all too often during the war.

“And how are you, my darlink Sarah?
Vai iz mer
. Such an accident. Who ever hert of such a tink? A bik machine like dat should fall down and hurt so many people. Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

“It was a terrible accident, Bubbe, but I’m hanging in there.”

“Terrible doesn’t bekin to describe it. De pictures alone are terrible. I can’t imagine vat it vas like for you. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Vat a
meshugge
tink to happen. It’s a crazy verlt, no?”

“Sure is,” Sarah said.

“ I voult kiv anytink if it voult be me in dat bet insteat ov you. I hat my turn to live,” she said, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief.

“Oh no, Bubbe. Long ago you filled your quota of hard times. Don’t worry about me. I’m going to be all right. All the doctors tell me so,” Sarah said.

“But I voult do it. I’m a
shtarker
and I can take it bedda dan a sveet young
maidel
like you,” Rivka said, correctly sizing up the situation. “Vy should you and de
kleine kint
have to go tru such a terrible tink?”

“I don’t think there’s any answer to that question, Bubbe. But I appreciate the sentiment, and I’m glad you hired Mrs. Greenberg’s son to drive you here. That was very clever of you,” Sarah said.

“Goldberk, darlink, Lillian Goldberk’s son. Vell, I’m glad someboty tinks it vas a goot idea,” she said, glaring at Eva. “If I vatet for your fudda, I’d still be siddink in my livink room chair.” Rivka chuckled to herself. “And now I’m here vit you and the
kleine kint
. I tink it verkt out very vell.”

With Sarah the most animated she’d been all morning, Eva was beginning to think her mother was right.

* * *

At lunchtime, Rivka pushed the jogging stroller with the baby as she followed Eva to the cafeteria. Sarah was left with her hospital-issue lunch, which held no appeal. She covered up all the dishes and pushed away the tray. She was reclining in her bed when a gray-haired man in a turtleneck and khakis invited himself in.

“I’m looking for Sarah Abadhi,” the man said inquiringly.