Cross Roads (25 page)

M
aggie?”

“Oh, nice of you to join me. Where have you been, anyway? Never mind, I still don’t want to know.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I tried to explain it. Nothing about my life at the moment makes a whole lot of sense, and yet, mysteriously, it does.” Tony paused to look through her eyes. “I see we’re heading up to the hospital.” They were on Terwilliger, passing viewpoints that overlooked the Willamette River. Taking a right on Southwest Canyon, they climbed toward what Tony had always thought looked like Legoland for smart people, a massive array of buildings housing some of the brightest minds in medicine and student wannabes.

As they approached the Canyon Garage, Maggie finally asked, “Tony, why are we doing this? Why are you coming up here to look at yourself in a coma?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” hedged Tony. “Just one of those things I have to do.”

“Hmmm,” grunted Maggie. “I don’t have to read body language to know when someone isn’t telling me the truth, at least not the whole truth, so-help-you-God kinda truth. Well, whatever it is, I hope it’s worth it.”

Tony didn’t respond and Maggie let it go. Finally, he broke the silence. “Maggie, can I ask you a medical-type question?”

“Sure. I’ll do my best.”

“Do dead people bleed?”

“Well, that’s an easy one. Dead people do not bleed. You have to have a beating heart to bleed. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” Tony replied. “Something someone said to me a while back. Seems obvious now that you answered it.”

“Nothin’ is obvious if you don’t know it,” responded Maggie, pulling into a parking spot. She pulled a badge from her glove box and dropped it into her purse.

“What, don’t rate your own parking pass?” teased Tony.

“Nope, there’s a waiting list. Sometimes it takes years, so I don’t expect a reserved parking spot anytime soon.”

“And here I thought nurses existed to protect us from the doctors,” he said and chuckled.

Maggie exited the car and headed for the nearest building, a huge white block-looking structure that sprawled across a skyway and connected to the tan-colored main hospital.

As they passed by the Eternal Flame monument and signage for Doernbecher OHSU, Tony asked, “Why are we going this way?”

“I’m stopping to visit Lindsay, that’s why,” Maggie muttered under her breath.

He knew better than to argue. She was his warden.

Two statues guarded the front entrance to Doernbecher
Children’s Hospital, one of a dog balancing stones and another that looked like a cat and monkey perched on the head of a goat, a touch of humor at the introduction of what easily could be a grim place.

“Believe it or not, Tony,” Maggie whispered, “as hard as moments can be here, this is one of the most uplifting and wonderful places I have ever worked. Best job I ever had.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he commented. He was surprised to see how open and airy the hospital lobby was, well lit and clean, children’s playhouses on the left and even a Starbucks with its requisite line of thirsty addicts. Entering a full elevator, Maggie pressed the button for the tenth floor.

“Ten South, Pediatric Oncology,” she announced to Tony, before realizing how it would look. A few glances and smiles in her direction and an uneasy quiet dominated the rest of the upward trip, the occupants seeming to exit as quickly as possible.

They emerged at Seahorse, each floor and area named for various animals and creatures. Passing by Intermediate Care, non-Oncology, they entered Sand Dollar, the clinic area, and then on to Hematology/Oncology, Starfish. Just before entering, Maggie whispered, “These are my friends. Play nice.”

“Aye, aye,” responded Tony. “Maggie,” he said, his tone changed, “thank you!”

“Welcome,” Maggie grunted and pushed open the door.

“Maggie!”

“Hey, Misty!”

Maggie made her way to the corner of the reception counter to be met and hugged by a taller brunette. She was careful not to kiss as was her custom. Things were complicated enough.

“Are you on today?”

“Nope, just stopping by to check in on Lindsay.”

Various others in conversation, on telephones or otherwise preoccupied, still waved, smiled, or nodded their greetings.

“You might check with Heidi; she was just with her a few minutes ago. I’ve been busy directing traffic, same ol’, same ol’. Oh, here she comes anyway.”

Maggie turned again to be quickly embraced by a pert blonde with an easy smile. “Hey, Maggs, you here to see Lindsay?”

Maggie nodded and Heidi continued, “She played for a couple of hours today and wore herself out pretty good. Don’t be surprised if she’s sleeping by the time you get back to her room. Fighter, that one, and so adorable. I’d take her home if they’d let me.”

“I’d love to take her home,” agreed Maggie. Tony could feel the tug in her heart. “I’ll just pop in and sit with her a couple minutes. I’m actually on my way over to Neuro.”

“Anything I should be concerned about?” asked Heidi, raising her eyebrows.

“You sick?” Misty asked from around the corner.

“Oh, nah, just got another… friend over there. Makin’ the rounds today.”

“Gotcha,” responded Heidi. “I’ve got to get back to rounds, too.” Another hug. “Maggie, lots of us praying for Lindsay, just so you know.”

“Thanks, darlin’,” responded Maggie. “That is the best gift you can give us right now.”

Tony hadn’t spoken, absorbed in the emotions and tender flow of conversation. Maggie knew her way around here, and they soon headed down the hall toward room 9.

“Your friends are sweet,” offered Tony, “and cute!”

“Ha!” Maggie chuckled under her breath. “The folks here are the best, but don’t let those two fool you. The Pineapple Princess, that would be Misty, is this floor’s guard dog, and if you try and sneak a sniffle past her HEPA filtering, she will take your head off and make you leave it at the reception desk so you don’t contaminate anyone else. And don’t trifle with the Chambermaid either; when they say blonde bombshell around here, the emphasis is on ‘bomb.’ ” She laughed quietly again before adding, “And when you get well, don’t you go hittin’ on my friends. I googled you. Your rep with the women, not so complimentary.”

They arrived and Maggie quietly opened the door, slipping inside. A fragile little girl lay fast asleep on the Sketcher bed, partially propped up for comfort, her bald head only adding to an aura of childlike beauty and innocence. One arm was wrapped around a stuffed dinosaur, a stegosaurus, judging by the dominant spiny protrusions from its back. She lay only half under her blanket, an adolescent gangly leg dangling over the near edge. Soft and gentle but labored breathing provided a rhythm to the room.

It was almost too much for Tony. He hadn’t allowed himself this near a children’s hospital room, since… It had been many years. He could feel himself withdrawing and fought it. Along with his own emotions came a mix of Maggie’s deep and ferocious affection for this teenager, and it joined the battle within him. Slowly, she won. As if her compassion had grabbed his arm as he was going out the door and wouldn’t let go, he looked again. He listened. He breathed in. All so terribly familiar.

“Not fair,” he whispered, even though only she could hear him.

“True that,” she whispered so as not to stir the sleeping child.

He hesitated to ask, knowing that the more information, the more personal the connection, and that could create a conflict of interest. He asked anyway.

“You said she was diagnosed with…?”

“AML, acute myelogenous leukemia.”

“That’s treatable, right?” he asked hopefully.

“Almost everything is treatable; problem is she is positive for Philadelphia chromosome, and that makes it all much more dicey.”

“Philadelphia chromosome? What’s that?”

“It’s where one part of one chromosome becomes part of another. Let me try and explain it this way; Lindsay is sleeping here in room 9 and Philadelphia chromosome involves chromosome 9. It’s like a bunch of furniture was taken out of room 22, crammed into room 9 and only some of the stuff from chromosome 9 gets put into room 22 and none of it belongs where it ends up. And here’s an irony. If Lindsay had Down syndrome like Cabby, her chances would be better. Some things in this life just don’t make any sense. The more you stare at them, the less sense they make.”

“Prognosis?” he finally asked, not sure he actually wanted to know. Knowledge has its own burden, but perhaps sharing the burden might make it lighter for everyone.

“With bone marrow transplant, chemo, and such, about 50 percent, but the Philadelphia issue reduces the probability of recovery by quite a bit. On top of that, Lindsay’s father was mixed race, which makes a match more difficult, and now he’s nowhere to be found. They’re talking about looking at a cord blood transplant, but that has its own set of challenges. Bottom line, we need a miracle.”

They sat in silence, Maggie watching this child as though she were her own, silently praying, while Tony struggled with the dilemma that faced him. This hospital had many
Lindsays, and each one of them was the center of someone’s life. How could he heal just one of them? Wouldn’t it be better if he healed himself? He had connections and access to wealth that could really make a difference, in many lives, not just one. Look at everything that had changed for him, in him. Would Grandmother be angry if he made the choice for himself? She would understand.

It was a tug-of-war. He would almost succeed in stanching his ebbing resolve but then would watch this little human person, a lifetime of potential experiences in front of her cut short by a feud within her own body. There was no question what he would have done for his own son, but… this was not his child.

“Can we go?” he whispered.

“Yes.” Maggie sounded tired and resigned. She stood and walked over to the girl, laying her hands gently on her head. “Dear Jesus, I have no power to fix my love, so I am asking you again for a miracle. Please heal her! But even if you choose to heal her by letting her go home to you, I trust you, I do.” She leaned forward to kiss her.

“Don’t!” Tony warned, and Maggie stopped, then turned and touched her cheek as light as a feather to Lindsay’s bald and beautiful head.

They exited Hematology/Oncology and headed toward the elevators that would take them down a floor to the ninth, which connected the different complexes housing OHSU, Doernbecher, and the Portland VA Medical Center. From the sky-bridge walkway they could see the spiderweb structure of the tram that routinely delivered staff, patients, and
visitors to and from down below off Macadam Avenue by the river.

Entering the OHSU complex, Maggie again went directly to the bank of elevators and pushed the Down button.

“Thank you, Tony,” she mumbled, barely audible but clear and distinct to him. “I just needed to see her today.”

“No problem,” he responded. “She is precious.”

“You have no idea,” she stated. Maggie was right, but he did have a sense of it.

They exited on seven, walked past Trauma ICU, through the waiting area, down another hall and took a left toward Neuroscience ICU across the way from Intermediate Care. Maggie picked up the phone and informed the receptionist on the other side of the locked doors that she was there to visit Anthony Spencer. The doors swung open and she went directly to the receptionist.

“My name is Maggie Saunders and I am coming to visit Anthony Spencer.”

“Don’t I know you?” The young woman smiled. “You look familiar.”

“Oh, you’ve probably just seen me around the buildings. I’m over at Doernbecher Hematology/Oncology.”

“Yeah, that’s probably it,” she said and nodded, checking her computer screen. “Let’s see, Maggie Saunders; yup, got you on the list. Not a relative, are you?”

“What was your first clue?” They both grinned. “But I’ve gotten to know him fairly well.” She almost slipped and added, “Since he’s been in a coma,” but luckily caught herself. “His brother put me on the list.”

“That would be Jacob Spencer?” Maggie nodded and she continued, “You know only two at a time in there, right?”

“Of course,” responded Maggie. “But there probably isn’t a line to get in.” It came out a wee bit sarcastic, but she was nervous. The receptionist consulted her screen again.

“Actually, you are the fourth person on the list,” she said and smiled again.

“The fourth?” queried Tony, surprised. “Who are the others?”

“The others would be the family, then?” offered Maggie.

“Yes, the list says Jacob Spencer, Loree Spencer, Angela Spencer, and then you, but no one is with him now. He’s in room 17, if you want to go ahead and go back.”

“Thank you,” said Maggie, relieved, and turned to leave.

“Crap!” uttered Tony, his thoughts awhirl.

“Shush!” muttered Maggie under her breath. “We can talk about this in a minute.”

They entered a well-lit room, the center of its focus a bed on which a man was hooked to a myriad of machines. The whoosh of a ventilator rhythmically signaled his breathing. Maggie walked over and positioned herself in a spot where she knew Tony could plainly see himself.