A Drop of Rain (20 page)

The volunteer couldn't remember what the nurse said the pill was. She said that Hanna knew the pill was something she hadn't tried before and consented to take it.

By the time we got back, Hanna had slipped into a coma. The expression on her face was terrible—almost as though she were screaming. I think the pill was causing her to hallucinate.

I talked to Hanna as much as I could. I reassured her that, when the effects of the pill wore off, she would feel better. I am sure she heard me. I told her to move her feet if she heard me, and she did.

Hanna's facial expression is more relaxed now. Eight hours have passed, and another nurse has just been and gone. This nurse said that the pill the new nurse gave Hanna can indeed cause hallucinations in some people. She also said that Hanna no longer feels physical pain.

The nurse noticed that Hanna sometimes stops breathing momentarily. The end is near.

Sponsoring someone to come to Canada is complicated. I photocopied several pieces of identification—both Eva's and mine. I typed a formal letter inviting Mary's daughter to come to Canada for two months and stay with Eva. I went to City Hall to fill in approved forms and obtain proper certification. I obtained the name and address of the Canadian
ambassador in Warsaw from the office of our federal member of parliament. Finally, I faxed everything to said ambassador. The process took most of a day.

I don't think anybody invited my dad's family to come to Canada from Holland back in the 1920s. They just came. Or did they? Must ask Aunt Helen.

Except for helping Eva, and chatting with Curtis, everything is pretty much the usual grind. I am glad the semester is almost over. I'm tired. Eva is exhausted.

“Don't be such a perfectionist,” I tell her, but she says she can't sleep all night anyway, so she might as well work.

Hanna is near the end.

The boys enjoyed biking around the local wildlife park and drawing some of the animals. All with Curtis. Meanwhile, I took a leisurely walk with my cameras.

Curtis followed the park expedition with “a scary, gross, new movie” on video:
Godzilla
. This exciting entertainment was accompanied by a large pepperoni pizza and a gooey chocolate cake, both purchased for a bargain price at the store where Curtis works.

Meanwhile, I ate a bowl of oatmeal porridge and made up exam questions.

Godzilla
was a hit with the boys, as were the pizza and cake. Never underestimate the rotten taste of the average, male child—my sons!

Sunday, December 5, 1999

On Tuesday, Joe and I took Mary from the hospital to her landlady's house. Mary's landlady must like Mary a lot. She wants to cook meals for Mary and take them to her in her room when Mary has to stay in bed. She will do this for free, as long as we buy Mary's groceries.

I visit with Mary for an hour after school every day, before I go home to eat dinner and do my homework. Mom comes home earlier from work now.

Hanna is really close to death. She is in a sort of coma. The nurse told Mom that “hearing is the last sense to go,” so we must be careful what we say around Hanna. Mom bursts into tears a lot. I don't know what to do for her.

Curtis borrowed Joe's truck and drove me to get some groceries for Mary. Mary insists on paying for her own groceries.

Sarah is going through another phase of not paying
much attention to me. Sarah's brother got arrested for pushing drugs, and Sarah herself is having problems with her boyfriend. Personally, I suspect Sarah is sleeping with her boyfriend. Even if that is true, I can't understand why she is avoiding me. Does she think I would criticize her? Maybe I would, but so what? Sarah says she's failing all her courses. Why did she give up on school?

Mary has a lot of doctor's appointments in the next few weeks. Joe or Curtis and I are going to drive Mary to these appointments.

Joe contacted the Canadian ambassador in Warsaw. He and Mom asked the ambassador to give Mary's daughter a temporary visa for Canada, and he agreed to do this. Joe says he'll drive me to the airport to pick up Anne. Mary's landlady says Anne can stay on a cot in Mary's room.

I've still got to do homework, of course. The history project is almost finished. Here is a quote from
The Breakup of the Soviet Union
by B. Harbor: “20 August 1968. Soviet and other Warsaw Pact tanks invade Czechoslovakia to force liberal leader Alexander Dubcek to back down on reform plan.”

What Naomi's neighbour, an old Czechoslovakian woman, said when Naomi interviewed her:

Since 1968, I have not gone back to Czechoslovakia. My brother, who still lives in Prague, can sometimes get to Vienna, so we meet there. When Czechoslovakia was still communist, we could talk on the telephone between Canada and Czechoslovakia. We would hear a “click”, and we would know someone was listening to our conversation. So we'd switch languages—maybe from Czech to German. Then there was another “click”, and somebody else who spoke German was listening. So we switched languages again—maybe from German to French. Then there was another “click”. What an incredible effort was used for spying on us!

What an old Polish woman, a friend of the Czechoslovakian woman, said when Naomi interviewed her in the Czechoslovakian woman's kitchen:

I never saw my sister again after World War II, until 1992 when I went back to Poland. I was in Canada. She was in Poland. We'd write letters, of course, but they always arrived months late and censored. There would be holes where the most innocent remarks were made. The post office spent most of its time spying on us, rather than trying to deliver letters on time. Anyway, I didn't want to send her too many letters. She could get in trouble just because she had a sister living in the West. We were always very careful.

Sarah phoned. She said she has quit her band, and she might quit school. I asked her why. She said, “Sorry, but I've got to go now.” Then she hung up.

My history project is due in one week. Mr. Dunlop said I had to have more documentation from “authoritative written material”, like books, newspapers and magazines. That is why I have been looking through a scrapbook Mom made for me when I was a kid. I don't want to go to the library. It is crowded with other students who are doing projects too. Mom cut out the following article seventeen years ago. I copied the article exactly. It was on the front page of the
Globe and Mail
on Monday, December 14, 1981. Here is how it begins:

Immediate Mass Strike Urged

Angry citizens take to the streets after Poland declares martial law

WARSAW—Poles reacted angrily and swiftly yesterday to the imposition of nation-wide martial law by the country's Communist authorities.

After a Military Council of National Salvation assumed power, police used water cannons to disperse angry crowds outside the Solidarity union's Warsaw headquarters and union activists distributed leaflets calling for an immediate general strike.

Troops, tanks, armored personnel vehicles and riot police took up positions in Poland's large cities and on main roads. In a nation-wide, overnight operation about 1,000 people were reported detained, although authorities refused to reveal the exact number.

I might also use another article from the scrapbook. It was in
Time
on January 4, 1982. Here are the headlines:

In this
Time
magazine article, there is a picture of Lech Walesa that shows my father standing near him. I have looked at this picture many times. My mother used to show it to me whenever I asked about my father. I used to ask a lot when I was little.

Mom used to say that my father looked “tall, dark and homely”. She said Dad looked like the CBC newsman Terry Milewski, “Except Milewski's better looking.”

Recently Mom said my father is “probably paunchy and grey-haired now”.

I said: “That's better than being bald like Joe.”

But now I'm sorry I said that, because Joe is being really nice to Mary and Curtis.