Sullivans Island-Lowcountry 1 (50 page)

faint light, he looked small in the bed, vulnerable. When I put

my hand on his arm, I realized that I was shaking. He was half-

asleep, but opened his eyes.

“Hi,” he said quietly,“glad you came.”

I leaned over and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “Don’t

worry, we’re gonna be right here waiting for you,” I said.

“Hi, Daddy,” Beth said. She took his hand in hers and squeezed

it slightly, then leaned over him and kissed his cheek.“I love you,”

she said.

“They gave me a pill about an hour ago. I feel all kind of

stupid in my head,” he said.

“That’s so you don’t sit up on the operating table and give

the doctor a litany of his liabilities,” I said.

“Wiseacre,” he said.

“Listen, you have nothing to worry about. They’re double

careful around here when they touch lawyers, you know.”

My attempt at humor wasn’t doing much to cheer any of

us. He would go in whole and come out something less. We

wouldn’t know the outcome for hours. He took my hand and

held it, drifting off again.

Soon the door opened and two orderlies came in and turned

on the light, followed by a nurse and his doctor.

“Good morning, Mr. Hayes,” the nurse said, “time to wake

up for a few minutes.” She took his temperature and checked his

blood pressure, making notes on his chart.

“Good morning,” the doctor said to me, “I’m David

Youngworth.”

We shook hands and I smiled at him.“I’m Susan Hayes.And

this is our daughter, Beth.”

“Right, right. Beth.” He shook her hand as well. Then he

said,“Okay, Mr. Hayes. Ready to roll?”

In one swift movement, the orderlies transferred Tom to a

gurney and held back the door to take him to surgery.

“Where are you going to be?” I asked.

340

D o r o t h e a B e n t o n F r a n k

“Third floor, operating room E. There’s a waiting room

there.We shouldn’t be more than two hours. I’ll come find you

when we’re finished, if you’d like,” the doctor said.

“Yes, thanks,” I said and went briefly to Tom’s side before he

was taken away.

Two hours crawled by and no word. Beth watched
Today
on

television. I went back and forth between the newspaper, the

television and the assortment of magazines on the table. We

drank coffee and then Cokes—the real thing, sugar and all. I

looked at my watch again.Ten minutes to nine.

“Should hear something soon,” I said.

“Yeah, God, what’s taking them so long?”

I didn’t correct her language; I didn’t even look at her face.

People came to the waiting area and left. I continued my fretful

prayers.
Dear God, please watch over Tom. His only child is standing

here, filled with anxiety. I am too. She needs her daddy, God, please let

him be all right.

Then, I remembered that I hadn’t called Beth’s school to let

them know she’d be absent. I reached down for my purse on

the floor and found my change, but the phone in our area was

in use.

“Be right back,” I said, “gotta call school.You wait here for

the doctor.”

“Okay,” she said.

The next phone was also being used and the next was broken.

I asked at the nurse’s station and was directed to the next wing of

the hospital. By the time I made the call and found my way back,

Dr.Youngworth was talking to Beth. She was nodding her head

and saw me.

“Here’s Momma,” she said.

“Tom’s going to be fine,” he said.“I’m pretty certain that we

got it all, but I’m concerned about the lymph nodes.That’s why

the procedure took a little longer than we thought it would. I

biopsied them and as soon as I have the pathologist’s report I’ll

know if he needs radiation as well. It’s possible the cancer was

S u l l i v a n ’ s I s l a n d

341

slightly more advanced than we originally thought, but I don’t

think life-threatening. I was afraid about the nodes, but we

never really know until we get inside the body.”

“But he’s okay?” I said.

“Oh, he did very well. He’s in post-op recovery now. He’ll

be back in his room by around noon, as soon as he wakes up and

his blood pressure has stabilized. He’s going to sleep most of the

day.”

“Thank you, Dr.Youngworth,” I said.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “He should be out of here in a

couple of days.We can talk about his care and recovery routine

tomorrow.”

I watched him walk away and I hugged Beth. The doctor

could’ve come to us and said almost anything and we would’ve

stood there like mannequins, thanking him, tape-recording his

words to play at a later time. Indeed, what he had said was that he

suspected Tom’s cancer was more serious than he had thought.

Beth and I went home for a few hours, had lunch and then

went back to the hospital. We tiptoed into Tom’s room, and he

was there, sleeping like a stone. I closed the venetian blinds to

keep the light at a minimum and sat down in the corner chair.

“I’m going to go get him some flowers,” Beth whispered.

“Get me a Snickers and a bag of potato chips,” I whispered

back.

“Shame on you! No way!” She smiled and left.

Since our conversation with his doctor and our return to the

hospital I had found the strength to compose myself. I couldn’t

see just dropping him off at his apartment with no one to see

about his meals or to help him bathe. This was a situation that

would have to be taken one step at a time. And he was a proud

man—vain, in fact. He wouldn’t burden me or anyone unless he

was on death’s doorstep.

Slowly, I told myself, go slowly and cautiously. No, first we

had to get him back on his feet and then see what would be.

It was nearly six o’clock when he finally realized where he

342

D o r o t h e a B e n t o n F r a n k

was. He smacked his lips, dehydrated from the anesthesia. I poured

some water in a cup and put the straw to his lips.

“Hey, how do you feel?” I whispered.

He took a sip and opened his eyes. When he leaned up to

take the cup, he winced in pain and fell back into his pillows.

“Take it easy,” I said, “just take little sips. I’ll help you sit.” I

pushed the buttons on the bed to raise his head and shoulders,

and adjusted his pillows.

“Where’s Beth?” he said.

“Down the hall, on the phone, no doubt. She’s got a new

boyfriend. Chris something.”

“I’ll kill the varmint,” he said.

“No need to do that. His acne will most likely do him in.

Do you want me to release some pain medication? See? Just

press this and you get drugs.”

“I’m okay. Sleepy. How long have you been here? What did

the doctor say?”

“He said that you’re gonna be fine. That you might need

some follow-up treatments, but that you’re fine.You’ll see him

tomorrow morning.”

It wasn’t the complete truth, but I didn’t have the heart to tell

a man who had just come out of major surgery that he wasn’t one

hundred percent.

“Thank God. Susan, thanks. For being here and all. I mean

it.” He winced again.

“Hey, what are ex-wives for? Now, I’m going to drug you

and then I’m going to let you get some rest.” I squeezed the

button, then his arm, and left him. His door sighed as it closed

mechanically behind me.

On the second day after his surgery,Tom was up and walk-

ing. On the third day, he was released from the hospital. Beth

and I had talked about it and we decided to bring him home to

our house. As soon as he was feeling better, I emphasized, he

would go back to his own place.

I was afraid I might fall back into living with him and that all

S u l l i v a n ’ s I s l a n d

343

the steps I’d taken to rebuild my life would vanish. I wanted him

cared for but I didn’t want to be used. No, I’d been used for the last

time, if I could help it. Also,Tom’s staying with us presented some

legal complications. Under the laws of divorce in South Carolina,

we had to live separately for one year to have our divorce finalized.

If Michelle Stoney found out that Tom was under my roof, she’d

be forced to refile or it would be fraud. I wasn’t telling her and,

under the circumstances, I didn’t think any judge would hold our

divorce up on that technicality. I said another novena for that.

I had rented a hospital bed and folded my dining room table

away. He could sleep in there. He had been advised to avoid

steps for a while. Getting him into the car was a bit of a struggle,

but Grant was there to help.

“Come on, old boy, that’s right, lean on me,” Grant said.

“I feel like an old woman,”Tom said.

“You are an old woman,” Grant said.“Maybe you should lie

down in the backseat.”

“Good idea,”Tom said.

“I’ll roll the wheelchair back inside,” Beth said.

“Okay, thanks.Tom, you okay?” I said.

“Yeah, okay, let’s go,” he said.

Grant closed Tom’s door and held the passenger door open

for Beth. He leaned in to speak to me.

“I’ll follow you home,” he said,“but I have to come back to

do rounds.”

“No problem, Grant.Thanks.”

After we got Tom settled, Grant left and I gave Tom lunch.

He sat up on a kitchen bar stool and fed himself a sliced chicken

sandwich with lettuce and tomatoes, a handful of potato chips,

two pickles and a Coke. This was not a dying man; this was a

hungry man.

“Boy, am I glad to be out of that place,” he said.

Over the next two days, we continued to plan for the holi-

days and our lives found a noninvasive routine together. Tom’s

recovery was extraordinary. After work at the library, I’d come

344

D o r o t h e a B e n t o n F r a n k

home, make supper and go to work on my other job.While Tom

and Beth did the dishes, I escaped upstairs. He watched televi-

sion in the living room, Beth studied in my room and I wrote

and laughed in her room.Tom seemed to be doing so well, Beth

was happy and I was glad to have the chance to do something

for him. His illness had given us all a lesson in compassion.

At the end of the week, he moved home to his apartment.

We were both aware of the legal jeopardy that it posed to have

him at home and it was really time for him to leave. He was fully

mobile and getting antsy. Beth pouted a little when he left, but

she understood.

I knew he had an appointment with Dr.Youngworth to go

over his pathology report the following Monday. I expected to

hear from him with an update.We were all feeling pretty relaxed,

figuring that if it had been really bad news, we would have heard

right away. Bad news traveling fast, and all that.

Monday evening he rang the doorbell.

“Hi!” I said. “How’s it going? Want a beer?” I knew the

moment I saw his face that something was wrong.

“Hi,” he said and gave me a peck on the cheek. “Where’s

Beth?”

“I’ll call her,” I said.

Beth came running down the stairs and hugged him. I knew

all at once why Tom had come over instead of calling. He

could’ve been Marvin Struthers.There’s a feeling of sliding down

a chute into blackness that came over me before he told us what

he had come to say.

“What’s wrong?” Beth said.

“Why don’t we all sit down,”Tom said.

Beth sat next to me on the sofa.Tom stood in front of us.

“Beth, Susan, I have something to tell you that’s very hard to

find the right words for, so I’m just going to come right out

with it. It seems that I’m very sick. My cancer spread into my

lymph nodes and metastasized.”

“How far?” I said.

S u l l i v a n ’ s I s l a n d

345

“Daddy! What are you saying?”

“Honey, I’m saying I might not have a lot of time left.”

Beth flew from the sofa to him and threw her arms around

him, holding him tightly and screaming,
“No! No! No! Tell me it’s

a lie, Daddy! Tell me it’s a lie!”

“I wish it were a lie, Beth, believe me,” Tom said, his voice

cracking, his heart breaking.

“I can’t lose you! I need you, Daddy! Daddy, I need you!”

Tom held her while she sobbed and I went to them, put-

ting my arms around both of them. Tears rolled down our

cheeks and mixed with each other’s as we kissed Beth over and

over. Beth cried so hard that she shook all over. Finally, she

sank to the floor in despair. Tom knelt at her side and whis-

pered to her.

“Please get up, baby,” he said. “Please be brave for Daddy’s

sake. Please don’t fall apart, I need you now. Please, Beth. I need

you, honey.”

When he said that he needed her, she looked up at him.

“Oh, Daddy, please don’t die,” she begged, hugging him hard

around the waist.

“Sweetheart, I don’t want to die, you know that.”

“There must be something they can do,” I said. “Isn’t there

anything?”

“Some radical treatments, heavy radiation and chemo, some

experimental stuff—a new medication that looks promising on

laboratory mice,” he said. “I mean, you can be sure that I’m

gonna try everything on the planet.”

“Oh, my God,” I said. “Come on, Beth, let’s get up, sweet-