sometimes hold her hand and we would look at each other and smile, as if this whole thing were just another one of those excursions we used to take together in strange places in various parts of the country, enjoying it all mostly because we were together.
I loved her then as much as I had before, and perhaps even more because of the threat that was hanging over her and her helplessnesslying there, with the slow steady drip of the blood into her body the only protection against losing her completely. And yet, coming out of the hospital after each transfusion, she was in a joyous mood, refreshed and strengthened, as if, she once told me, she had drunk a gallon of wine.
For a short while more we were a happy couple again, enjoying our walks around the lake, holding hands like a newly married couple, as one admiring neighbor told us. And always Ruby found strength to give her yoga lesson at the clubhouse. Every Wednesday morning we would be up early, and as Ruby put on her leotard I would watch her and marvel at her figure and its youthfulness, which she had retained into her nineties, and I would have to restrain myself from going up to her and taking her in my arms.
Then there was that last time when I drove her to the clubhouse and picked her up and she looked tired, so tired that I was worried and called Adraenne.
She was at work then, at the hospital, but she left immediately and rushed right over to us. She took Ruby's temperature. To our relief, it was just a bit above normal. A high temperature could have indicated an infection, and Dr. Silverman, in charge of the study, had warned that in her condition she would have great difficulty fighting off an infection.
Adraenne stayed over with us that night, despite the fact that she had to be at the hospital early the next day. She could barely make it if she took an eight o'clock bus to New York, and that meant getting up not later than seven. But we were awakened even earlier than that by Ruby. She was not feeling well. Once more Adraenne took her temperature, and this time it was 102 degrees, well above normal.
Alarmed, Adraenne called Dr. Silverman. He instructed her to bring Ruby into the hospital immediately. We called Charlie, gettinghim out of bed. He lived in Pennsylvania, more than an hour's drive away, but he made it in less time than that. Ruby didn't want to go to the hospital. I remember how she looked up at me as she lay in the bed, her eyes begging me not to take her away, and said in a whisper, “I have a premonition.”
I was angry. “Nonsense,” I said. “You have to go. There's absolutely nothing to be afraid of. You'll probably only have to be there a day or two until your temperature goes down, and then you'll be home again.”
I think often of that morning, of the gray light creeping into the room, and of Ruby there in the bed and looking up at me with that imploring look in her eyes. Had I done the right thing? Would it not have been better to let her stay home and to heed what she was saying? Was there such a thing as a premonition? And why did I have to be so angry with her?
Adraenne and I have talked this over, because we were both conscience-stricken later, but Adraenne has convinced me that what we did was right. Otherwise there would have been no chance at all, and we would not have had the doctors and the equipment and medications that were necessary in the battle that took place to fight the infection that had occurred.
It took ten long agonizing days. I don't know how many doctors came in to see Ruby, to bend over her, to touch her here and there, to ask her where the pain was, which she could never answer coherently. We had a private nurse for her day and night. Nevertheless, Adraenne and I took turns staying with her nights. They had put a cot in the room for us, and we took turns sleeping there. When it was my night off I would go to Adraenne's apartment in Brooklyn Heights to sleep, and then I'd come back early to relieve her
I loved her then as much as I had before, and perhaps even more because of the threat that was hanging over her and her helplessnesslying there, with the slow steady drip of the blood into her body the only protection against losing her completely. And yet, coming out of the hospital after each transfusion, she was in a joyous mood, refreshed and strengthened, as if, she once told me, she had drunk a gallon of wine.
For a short while more we were a happy couple again, enjoying our walks around the lake, holding hands like a newly married couple, as one admiring neighbor told us. And always Ruby found strength to give her yoga lesson at the clubhouse. Every Wednesday morning we would be up early, and as Ruby put on her leotard I would watch her and marvel at her figure and its youthfulness, which she had retained into her nineties, and I would have to restrain myself from going up to her and taking her in my arms.
Then there was that last time when I drove her to the clubhouse and picked her up and she looked tired, so tired that I was worried and called Adraenne.
She was at work then, at the hospital, but she left immediately and rushed right over to us. She took Ruby's temperature. To our relief, it was just a bit above normal. A high temperature could have indicated an infection, and Dr. Silverman, in charge of the study, had warned that in her condition she would have great difficulty fighting off an infection.
Adraenne stayed over with us that night, despite the fact that she had to be at the hospital early the next day. She could barely make it if she took an eight o'clock bus to New York, and that meant getting up not later than seven. But we were awakened even earlier than that by Ruby. She was not feeling well. Once more Adraenne took her temperature, and this time it was 102 degrees, well above normal.
Alarmed, Adraenne called Dr. Silverman. He instructed her to bring Ruby into the hospital immediately. We called Charlie, gettinghim out of bed. He lived in Pennsylvania, more than an hour's drive away, but he made it in less time than that. Ruby didn't want to go to the hospital. I remember how she looked up at me as she lay in the bed, her eyes begging me not to take her away, and said in a whisper, “I have a premonition.”
I was angry. “Nonsense,” I said. “You have to go. There's absolutely nothing to be afraid of. You'll probably only have to be there a day or two until your temperature goes down, and then you'll be home again.”
I think often of that morning, of the gray light creeping into the room, and of Ruby there in the bed and looking up at me with that imploring look in her eyes. Had I done the right thing? Would it not have been better to let her stay home and to heed what she was saying? Was there such a thing as a premonition? And why did I have to be so angry with her?
Adraenne and I have talked this over, because we were both conscience-stricken later, but Adraenne has convinced me that what we did was right. Otherwise there would have been no chance at all, and we would not have had the doctors and the equipment and medications that were necessary in the battle that took place to fight the infection that had occurred.
It took ten long agonizing days. I don't know how many doctors came in to see Ruby, to bend over her, to touch her here and there, to ask her where the pain was, which she could never answer coherently. We had a private nurse for her day and night. Nevertheless, Adraenne and I took turns staying with her nights. They had put a cot in the room for us, and we took turns sleeping there. When it was my night off I would go to Adraenne's apartment in Brooklyn Heights to sleep, and then I'd come back early to relieve her
Similar Books
