Sarah's Garden (21 page)
“Here.” Grant gave her the damp towel. “Wipe his face and calm down. You’ll transfer your panic to him. Speak to him slowly. Did they say how long for the ambulance?”
“Ten minutes.”
“Great . . . He’s going to be all right, I think. He ’s breathing on his own and his pulse is okay.”
“That’s good,” James said in a choked voice.
The whine of the ambulance siren hurtled to a stop outside. Grant went to open the door to the paramedics, then eased Sarah and her
mamm
to their feet and away from the patient.
He watched with both sadness and interest as the paramedics pulled on gloves and shot brief comments back and forth and then radioed vital signs back to Lockport Hospital. Medicine in all its forms interested Grant, but he could not fully concentrate with Sarah and her
mamm
’s faint sobbing.
The paramedics brought in a gurney and wrapped Mr. King in blankets; then they strapped him securely.
“Are you going to follow the ambulance?” One paramedic looked at Grant.
“We ’ll be right behind you.”
He glanced at the boys. “I can take your
mamm
and Sarah and come back for you.”
James shook his head. “
Nee
, go on. We need to get chores done; that’s what Father would want.”
“And we must let Chelsea and John Kemp know,” Luke added.
Grant nodded and bundled Sarah and her
mamm
into his car as the ambulance sped away and he shifted the car into gear to follow. He wanted to soothe Sarah, hold her hand, but he kept up a reassuring conversation that demanded little reply instead.
They arrived at Lockport slightly behind the ambulance to find that Mr. King had been taken to the ER.
“Can we go back with him?” Grant asked, catching the eye of a kind nurse.
“Yes, you’re family?” She looked at the obvious difference in dress between Grant and the two women.
Mamm
spoke up. “He ’s from out of town.”
Grant smothered a smile and felt flattered by the compliment. They followed the nurse through the massive swing doors and entered the ordered chaos of the emergency room.
S
arah was assaulted by the unfamiliar sights, sounds, and smells of the place. Father looked small and frail on the hospital bed. He had tubes coming from his nose and arms and his clothing had been replaced by a blue gown and white blankets. Strange machines beeped and displayed ominous, blinking red numbers, while the nurses swinging the curtain back and forth along the steel rod grated against her nerves.
Mamm
was seated in the only chair while Sarah stood with Grant behind her.
“I know you’re both scared,” Grant said gently. “Would it help if I explained what they’re doing?”
“
Jah
,”
Mamm
sniffed, then pressed her lips together.
“All right, the tubes in his nose are for oxygen, to help him breathe more easily. The tube in his arm is called an IV. It goes into the vein to help deliver fluids and medicine directly into his system.”
“Where are his clothes?”
Mamm
asked, desperate to hang on to something familiar.
The nurse looked up. “Mrs. King? I’m Erin, one of the nurses. Here are your husband’s belongings.” She handed
Mamm
a white plastic bag, and Sarah thought how strange it was that all of one ’s external life could be so easily confined by a mere slip of plastic.
“Will he go home soon?”
Mamm
asked.
“One of the doctors will be in to speak with you about that. Can I bring you some juice or water while you wait?”
Sarah and
Mamm
both shook their heads.
“No thanks,” Grant murmured.
The nurse flung the curtain open and closed once more, and
Mamm
reached her careworn hand to touch Father’s. Sarah’s lip quivered, and Grant massaged the back of her neck.
The curtain was reopened once again, and a white-coated young doctor entered. He glanced at the women and Grant, then he took a stethoscope, brushed aside Father’s beard, and listened to the old man’s chest. He slung the stethoscope back around his neck.
“He’s going to need a heart cath—stat.”
“What . . . what is that?”
Mamm
asked.
“You’re Amish, right? My girlfriend loves your quilts; bet they go for a small fortune.”
“The patient, if you please, Doctor.” Grant’s voice was level.
The young doctor grinned at Grant. “Did you forget to get dressed up this morning?”
“I’ll speak to your superior, now,” Grant said. “Tell him Dr. Williams requests the presence of his or her company.”
Sarah felt Grant stiffen behind her. She couldn’t see his face, but something must have made the other doctor change his mind about his attitude.
The young doctor glanced at the chart. “My apologies . . . Mrs. King. I . . . spoke without thinking. Your husband will be taken to a special room where we will use a very small camera to move through his vein and look at his heart to see what sort of damage there is, if any.”
“Will he go home soon?” Sarah asked.
The doctor glanced at her, seeming to notice her beautiful face for the first time. “No . . . no, ma’am . . . a few days in the hospital or more. We have a hospitality suite where you can stay if you would like to be close by. I’ll send one of the nurses in to talk about it with you.”
He avoided Grant’s eyes, nodded, and slipped out of the curtain.
“Eyes like flame, Dr. Williams,”
Mamm
said, smiling. “You scared him off, I think.”
Sarah felt Grant nod, then she stepped forward to embrace her mother, who hugged her back and muttered something in Pennsylvania Dutch.
“
Nee
,
Mamm
. That’s not true.”
“What did she say?” Grant asked curiously.
Sarah looked back at him. “She remembered an old superstition . . . that a new life must be paid for with an old. Chelsea’s baby for Father, but she ’s just worried,
jah
,
Mamm
?”
Mrs. King nodded. “I know . . .
Der Herr
is in charge. All will be well.”
A pair of nurses came then.
“Mrs. King, we ’re going to take your husband up to the cath lab to take some pictures of his heart. You can all follow us; there ’s a waiting room up there for you.”
Sarah watched as tubes were unhooked and gathered, locks were turned on the wheels of the bed, and side rails were raised in quick precision. She held
Mamm
’s arm and followed the rolling bed with the doctor in the rear. They came to a large steel door, where the nurse pressed a black button and an arrow pointing upward lit up. Sarah swallowed in faint alarm. She knew it was called an elevator, but she ’d never ridden in one and she didn’t want to reveal her fear to
Mamm
.
She felt a large hand press into the small of her back as Grant leaned close to her ear. “First time?” he whispered, and she felt a peculiar chill down her spine as she nodded. He patted her back as a
bing
sounded and the steel door slid open. The bed was wheeled in first, then Sarah,
Mamm
, and Grant followed. Sarah felt a trapped tightness in her chest as the nurse pressed a button on the steel wall and was grateful for Grant’s sturdy presence.
She felt as if her body was falling through her feet as the elevator climbed, and a wave of nausea swept through her. She looked at
Mamm
, who appeared equally pale, and was grateful when the thing stopped with a jolt and the doors reopened. Then it was following an endless piece of yellow tape on the floor until they came to double doors marked Heart Institute. The nurse smiled at them kindly and gestured to a bright room to their left.
“Please go and wait inside; we ’ll let you know as soon as possible how everything goes.”
Mamm
bent to kiss Father’s still face, and Sarah did the same. Then the doors opened and closed on the gurney and Grant shepherded them into the waiting room.
T
he waiting room was cluttered with magazines, puzzles, and vinyl chairs. Despite the late hour, two other families, both with young children, were waiting and looked up as they entered. A television played CNN without sound and a cheerful old woman in a pink jacket, sitting at a desk with a telephone, greeted them.
“Come in, folks, and make yourselves comfortable. There ’s coffee and juices over there, and just let me know of anything that you might need.”
The Kings murmured their thanks while Grant smiled and waited until the ladies had chosen seats on the far side of the room before asking if they wanted anything.
“No thank you, Doctor,”
Mamm
said.
Grant shook his head. “If you’ll allow me to insist, you’re going to have some orange juice. Both of you look rather pale after that elevator ride.”
“
Jah
, it was my first time.”
Mamm
laughed.
Grant went to the juice stand, noticing the covert looks his two companions were receiving for their obvious difference in dress. It bothered him. What a person wore should not be a source for whispers and stares. He smiled to himself. Yet how many times had he categorized patients who seemed to resemble their pets? He grabbed three plastic bottles of juice from the ice and took them back.
Sarah and her mother stared at the plastic lids, and he showed them how to peel them back to reveal the juice inside. He was glad to note that a little color came back into Sarah’s cheeks when she ’d drunk deeply of the liquid.
“Okay,” he said. “We ’re not going to sit here and torture ourselves with waiting. Believe me, I know what it’s like. So, you two are going to give me a sampling of some good old home remedies that would probably put that doctor downstairs to shame, and I’m going to take notes.” He withdrew a small notepad from his shirt pocket and a blue pen.
He clicked the pen. “All right . . . I’m ready.”
Sarah stared at him in dismay. “But we need to pray now.”
“Can’t you pray and talk at the same time?” he asked innocently.
Again he’d managed to coax a smile from
Mamm
. “You’re a good doctor, and yes, we will help you and pray at the same time. What remedies do you want?”
“Oh, anything, really. I find that many homeopathic cures work the same for both animals and people. And I’m also interested in the more curious cures—the ones that have been passed down for generations. Heirloom cures, you might call them.” He shot a look at Sarah while
Mamm
nodded in affirmation.
“
Jah
, all right,”
Mamm
began. “We ’ll start with the old cures. Some are superstitions, but they’re fun to remember. But maybe these are not what you want?”
What he wanted was to keep the two women occupied while the time went by, and if he needed to listen to folklore, it made no difference to him. He also recalled how slowly time passed when he was ten and had to wait with the Bustles while word came about his father and mother. He had no desire to repeat that scene in his life, so he smiled broadly.
“I’ll take the fun folklore first.”
Mamm
elbowed Sarah slightly. “
Kumme
, Sarah . . . we’ll play and see who remembers the most. Father wouldn’t want you to sit around with a long face.”
“
Jah
,
Mamm
.”
“Now, when you get warts on your hands, you know?”
Grant nodded, scribbling on the paper.
“You get the warts from handling toads.”
“Even I’ve heard that one.” He laughed. “What’s something else?”
Mamm
pursed her lips in thought. “Do not cut your hair in the dark of the moon; it will cause baldness.”
Sarah sighed. “That’s not true,
Mamm
.”
“I know that; we ’re having the fun. Now play along,
boppli
, like a good girl.”
Grant watched Sarah draw a deep breath. “The root of rhubarb worn on a string around your neck will keep you from having a bellyache.”
“Really?” He arched one golden brow at her.
“No . . . not really,” she snapped. “The root of rhubarb is good for growing more rhubarb.”
“Ah . . . I see.”
“Now, for the more serious . . . ,”
Mamm
spoke. “When a baby gets the croup, you mix cinnamon, cloves, allspice, nutmeg, ginger, and mustard with some lard to make a paste. You put this on the baby’s chest with a warm piece of flannel.”
“That sounds like it would smell good,” Grant offered as he wrote.
“
Jah
, and when your stomach needs cleansing because you’ve eaten too much, tell him what we do, Sarah.”
“We jump up and down on the person until he throws up.”
“Sarah!”
“All right,” she sighed. “You mix lemon juice, cayenne powder, maple syrup, and water, and then you drink it fast.”
“And then you throw up?” he asked.
“Only if you’ve a mind to, Doctor, and I think that if you must write something down, it should be useful.”
“Such as?”
“If you want to keep bugs off your plants, make a mixture of water, dishwashing soap, and vegetable oil and spray the plants with it.”
“So that’s folklore?”
“No, it really works.”
“Miss King, I do believe you’re trying to take all the fun out of—”
He stopped as a surgeon entered the room. The man searched the waiting room with a quick glance.
“The King family?”
“
Jah
.”
Mamm
raised her hand.
The doctor approached and Grant rose in a defensive posture, not wanting a repeat of what had happened earlier with the younger doctor.
The surgeon offered a quick hand all around. “Mrs. King, your husband had another minor heart attack during the heart cath; we discovered that two of his main arteries are blocked to his heart. We ’re going to perform surgery to remove those blockages, with your permission.”
Mamm
had sunk back into her chair, and Sarah put an arm around her.
“This is fairly routine, though, Doctor, is it not?” Grant asked.
“Oh yes . . . extremely. He should be fine and home within the week.” The surgeon paused. “Oh, and I need to ask—does he have a living will?”