Another Dawn (15 page)

Even though I’d never finished reading through yesterday’s TalkBack, today I couldn’t help but unroll the morning paper, one eye closed, because I just had to look. I suppose I was hoping to see a lot of chatter about the end of the school year, a mayoral scandal, or anything else that didn’t involve me. Before I even made it to TalkBack, the headline of the editorial column got my attention. I started reading.

More Than One Side to the Story

There are many in this community who believe that failing to immunize your child is the wrong decision. A selfish decision, even. There are many in the international medical community who would agree with that.

Yet there are others who would disagree. Robert Kennedy Jr. is one such advocate. Mr. Kennedy claims to have transcripts from June 2000 conversations of top members of the Centers for Disease Control, the FDA, and the World Health Organization, along with executives from those drug companies who manufacture vaccines.

In these recorded conversations, the executives are heard to say that they would not give these vaccines to their own children, that they know they are dangerous. The whole series of meetings is more focused on how to cover this up, how to avoid catastrophic lawsuits, rather than how to make babies safe from the neurotoxin of thimerisol—a mercury-based preservative commonly used in vaccines at the time. Mr. Kennedy contends that greed led these companies to disregard the health of American children so that they could continue to turn a profit

It only takes one visit to the National Vaccine Information Center Web site to terrify anyone. I invite everyone to take a look and see what there is to see on the other side. Stories of vaccine contamination, and children injured and even killed by normal childhood vaccinations. Stories of government agencies who knew there was a problem, yet chose not to act.

Perhaps before we are so quick to judge someone for making a decision other than the one we feel to be correct—perhaps the one that truly is correct—let’s at least take the time to understand what it was that led to such a decision.

I was stunned. More than stunned. It never occurred to me that the local paper might run such a column. Who else was on the staff? I looked at the byline to see who wrote it. Patti Fox.

Patti Fox? Why would she have written this piece that so clearly went against popular opinion? That so clearly went in my favor? Perhaps she felt as though the controversy would bring more TalkBack, and perhaps more business for the paper.

Whatever the reason, for the first time I could ever remember, I felt myself thankful to Patti Fox.

My confidence swelled that people really were seeing more than one side to this issue. I turned a couple of pages. Perhaps today’s TalkBack audience would be more open-minded, as well.

The first message today was titled “Common Sense.” My optimism faded beneath a fog of dread.

Common Sense

Here’s my question: What was that mother thinking?

She took that child to a hospital while he was running a fever. A hospital! We’re not talking nice airy park, we’re talking an enclosed building, full of people who are there because they ARE NOT WELL. What kind of mother brings a child who is running a temperature into that environment?

I’ll tell you. One who has no common sense. None. We’re talking DUMB. DUMB. DUMB.

Now our hospital may have to function short-staffed because of that ignorance.

Anonymous

Ouch.

I folded up the paper and put it away. This was not productive. This was not healthy.

I poured myself a cup of coffee, determined to think about happier things. Dylan was getting better; things were going to be okay.

“Hey, Mama, we can leave the house today, right? Can I go to the park?” Dylan shuffled into the kitchen, his eyes brighter than they’d been in days.

I put my hand on his forehead. Didn’t feel warm. “How are you feeling, darling?”

“Much better. So, the park?” He smiled up at me, giving me his cutest, most persuasive grin.

I could only imagine what might happen to us if we went anywhere in public right now, with Dylan’s rash still so obvious, much less the park where there were likely to be a lot of children. I shook my head. “Even though you’re feeling better, I think you ought to get some rest for the next few days. We may be headed home soon, and as soon as we get there, we’ll go to the beach. How about that?”

“Aww, Mom, I really wanted to go to the park.”

The acidity of the coffee suddenly burned my stomach. I poured the rest of it down the sink.

I heard what sounded like a car in the driveway and pulled back the curtains. I’d never been so happy to see Jana’s brown SUV. I ran out onto the porch to greet her, hoping her visit was a good sign.

It had been nine days, the day of Daddy’s surgery, since I’d last seen her. Since then we’d avoided having Dylan near Hannah, thinking he might give her his cold. A cold. If only that were the case.

A frown line creased Jana’s forehead as she climbed up to the porch. Her usual put-together in a windblown sort of carefree demeanor was totally absent.

“What’s wrong?” I met her at the top of the steps.

“Aunt Jana, Aunt Jana, you’re here.” Dylan came bounding out the door. “Did you bring Hannah Rose? Doctor says I’m not contagious anymore.”

“Not today, darling, I . . .” She stopped speaking and stared at my son. “Oh, my goodness.” She put her free hand over her mouth, and I could see tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. “I had no idea. . . .” She stared at my son and shook her head slowly. “Oh, you poor thing. Does it hurt? Itch?”

“Nah.” Dylan looked down at his arms as if just now noticing the rash. “It itched a little for a while, but not too much. You should have seen it a couple of days ago.” The pride reverberated in his voice.

“Really?” I could tell Jana was taking deep breaths. She looked at me. “It was worse than this?”

I debated about whether or not to lie. Finally, I settled on, “Yeah, it was a little worse.”

“It was really red and bumpy. Grandpa took some pictures. You should get him to show them to you.” Dylan held out his arm, turning it over and over again so Jana could get the full effect.

Jana kissed him on top of the head. “You poor, sweet darling.”

But I knew Jana was no longer talking about my son. She was thinking about Hannah, her perfect smooth baby skin. I knew she was trying not to picture that sweet face covered with red bumps, wondering if her little angel would ever return to normal again. I understood this, because it was the same thing I worried about Dylan. Would he be scarred? How long was he going to look like this? I still asked myself these questions even as he was starting to get better.

In spite of my fears, I’d done the research, reading through all the articles I could find. I knew what science told me. I reached over and touched my sister’s arm. “It’s just temporary. It will go away and he’ll be just fine again.”

She nodded, but her mouth had curved into a deep frown. “Of course.” She ruffled Dylan’s hair and said, “Do me a favor? Will you go inside and see if you can find Hannah’s pink blankie? I’m pretty sure I left it upstairs in Grandpa’s room the last time I was here.”

“In Grandpa’s room? Really? I don’t usually get to go up there.”

“That’s right, isn’t it? Tell you what, we’ll make an exception just this once. Okay?”

“Woo-hoo.” Dylan raced inside, oblivious to the fact that his aunt had just sent him away so he wouldn’t hear what she was about to say. I was thankful that his insightful radar had not yet reached the level it would in a few years.

“So what’s going on?” I waited only until the door closed behind him before I asked the question.

“Hannah woke up with a fever this morning.”

The words grabbed me in a crushing fist.
Oh no.
I tried my best to remain calm, think through the possibilities. “Could it be another ear infection?”

She shrugged. “It’s possible. The doctor doesn’t want me to bring her into the office for obvious reasons. She said she’d stop by my house during her lunch and take a look.”

“Times like this make it really nice to live in a small town.” I tried to sound upbeat. “House calls and all. You don’t find that in bigger cities.”

Jana looked back toward her car. “Paisha Benter spiked a fever this morning, too.” Jana’s voice was a full octave lower than normal now, and little more than a whisper. “She was the baby that Dylan was playing with on the floor. Remember?”

“Yes. I remember.” I pictured the sweet little baby all in pink, up on her hands and knees rocking back and forth, trying so hard to crawl, but not quite getting it yet. There could be no doubt that she’d been plenty close enough to contract his germs.

I could barely bring myself to think about a child so young getting so sick. At least with Dylan, he’d been able to tell me what hurt and how I could help him. With a nine-month-old, there would be no such luxury. It would be downright awful for them—all of them.

“Her father is working out of state and won’t be back until next week. Her mother can’t go into work because Paisha can’t be left at day care. She’s having to take off without pay until her mother can get here tomorrow night.”

“Is there anything I can do? I’d be happy to help baby-sit, anything you can think of.”

She shook her head, searching my eyes with her own as if looking for something. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“I just wish I had the power to make this all better.”

“I’m scared,” she said, a single tear leaving its trail of sorrow down her left cheek, “that this is about to get really bad.”

I stared at my phone for a long time. Every ounce of my being wanted to call the one person I could
really
talk to when things got hard. But that little voice inside me kept reminding me I no longer had that right.

Still, before I even realized I was doing it, I hit speed dial and held my breath. The phone clicked on the second ring.

“Hi, Grace. How is Dylan?” Steve sounded tentative when he answered his phone. I’m sure he wondered what I was going to dump on him now, given our last few conversations.

“Much better. Fever gone, rash fading, appetite back up.”

“Good. Glad to hear it.” He paused for a moment. “Are you still coming home on Saturday?”

“I . . . don’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

What right did I have to dump all my worries on him at this point? “It’s just that . . .” No. This wasn’t right. “Well, I guess I was just calling to check in.”

“Uh-huh.” He remained silent for a minute. “Now, why don’t you tell me what this call is really about?”

“It was a mistake. I’m sorry. I have no right to call and dump all my issues on you at this point.”

“Well, let’s just pretend for this moment that you do have that right. Now, tell me, what’s wrong?”

“I helped Jana with the babies in the church nursery last Sunday. Hannah and one of the other babies broke with a fever today. Not confirmed, but likely measles. Likely all six of those babies will contract the full-blown virus by the end of the week. I don’t know what to do. Tell me what I’m supposed to do.” And with the outpouring of what I’d been keeping back for too long, once again I was throwing myself on his mercy.

“I guess I’m not sure what your choices are.”

“Jasmine wants me to come back to work early. Collin has had a lot of issues in the last few weeks; she’s getting behind on everything.” I decided not to bring up the subject of why she needed me back, because it could easily cause this conversation to disintegrate.

“Doesn’t your father still need help?”

“He’s getting better, able to get around without his walker now. He’ll be allowed to drive soon.” I grasped for something more convincing. “We’ve got some of our worst usual customers at the Blue Pacific this week—they totally wreck the place every time they’re there. Jasmine really is trying to get things fixed up, but Collin has been in meltdown mode all week with the renovations.”

“So what do you think you ought to do?”

“I’m trying to look at it from both sides—emotional and logical. The emotional thing is to stay here because of the potential for measles that I brought here. But in truth, even if Hannah does break with the measles, there’s nothing I could do about it. I mean, I could be here to help with Dad. And to be with Jana. If Hannah is about to get really sick for the next week, because we are the one who brought the virus to her—shouldn’t I stay here for as long as possible?”

“Okay, continuing in the emotional category, let me ask you this. If it were an unusual strain of the flu, or some other disease for which there is no vaccine, would you feel so compelled to stay?”

I thought about that for a moment. What if it were another virus or disease for which I carried no overt guilt? “This is different. The measles has more of a potential for being serious.”

“You think so? I don’t know the medical truth to that, but I would think that the flu has the potential to be just as serious in a kid that age.”

“Maybe you’re right.” At this moment I was thankful I’d gotten up the nerve to call him. I was beginning to have real hope that I could leave here early, and with a clear conscience. “Maybe I’ve done all I can do here.”

“Perhaps. Let’s talk about what brought you out there in the first place. You took two weeks off without pay, less than three months after investing almost every bit of your savings into the down payment for your condo. You couldn’t afford it, why did you do that?”

“My father had knee surgery. He couldn’t stay alone for a while after. Jana’s house has too many steps for him to stay there, so I came here to help.”

“All that may be true, but all of that was true three weeks ago and I never heard you mention going back there. What changed your mind?”

“Hannah has had so many ear infections in the last few months, I was trying to come give Jana some relief.”

“And?”

“And, I was dying to see Hannah in something more than an Internet video or Facebook photos. Dylan really wanted to see her. He talked about it all the time. I figured it would be a good time to give him what he wanted while also being helpful.”

“And?”

“And what? That’s it.”

“I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it, Grace. Why else did you want to make this trip? To stay at your father’s house for a couple of weeks?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do. All the reasons you mentioned are true, and all of those reasons helped give you the justification to do what it is you truly came there to do—and only you know the real answer to that one. What I’m saying is, you’ve got to look at all the pieces of this puzzle and decide what you think is best about coming back. Has the reason you went home in the first place been accomplished? That’s the question you’ve got to ask yourself.”

“The reason I came home in the first place is to take care of my father so my sister wouldn’t have to.”

“Grace, I’ve talked to Rob. I know there was more to the story. It’s time to deal with your issues, don’t you think?”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I don’t think so. You have let the past eat you up for so long. You knew deep inside you that you needed to spend some time with your father and learn how to somehow forgive him. You knew it even before Jana called and told you she was tired of carrying all the burden alone. You’ve got to let go of your anger so you can become part of your family again. And beyond that, you need to let go of your fear.”

A quick flash of anger filled me. “I am strong. I am independent. I do not live in fear.”

“Don’t even try to go there, Grace. You know you. You’ve lived in complete distrust of anyone other than yourself since your mother died. Well, maybe that’s not completely true. What your mother’s death left intact, Chase Gaines managed to finish off.”

“I don’t know why I even bother to talk to you about these things. You are so ludicrous.”

“Grace, look at the truth. You don’t want to live the way you have lived for the last five years. In a cave so surrounded by self-protection that you can’t or won’t love anyone other than your son. You know Dylan needs more. Somewhere deep down you know that you need more and it terrifies you. I think you wanted to spend this time with your father because you saw reconciling with him as your last hope.”

“It’s a good thing for you that you’re a much better architect than you are an amateur psychiatrist. I came here because my father needed help after surgery and I wanted to give my sister a break. Period.”

“Well, if that is the truth, then I’d say you’ve accomplished what you set out to do. You should be able to come on home without too much of a problem.”

“Then I guess I’ll be coming home early.”

“Let me know what time to be at the airport.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get a ride home.”

And we were right back where we started. Or ended. We’d done this cycle so many times lately, I was having trouble keeping up.