Marilyn answered her daughters’ impassioned entreaties about what the near future would bring with vague generalities. In truth, she didn’t know what was best for the family.
The plane’s engines started with a roar that made further conversation difficult. As the plane left the terminal and taxied out toward the runway, she put her nose to the window. She wondered how she would have the strength to make a decision.
A bolt of lightning to the southwest jolted Marilyn from her musing. It was an uncomfortable reminder of her disdain for commuter flights. She did not have the same confidence in small planes as she did in regular jets. Unconsciously she cinched her seat belt tighter and again checked her daughters’.
During the takeoff Marilyn gripped the armrests with a force that suggested she thought her effort helped the plane get aloft. It wasn’t until the ground had significantly receded that she realized she’d been holding her breath.
“How long is Daddy going to live in Chicago?” Lydia called across the aisle.
“Five years,” Marilyn answered. “Until he finishes his training.”
“I told you,” Lydia yelled to Tamara. “We’ll be old by then.”
A sudden bump made Marilyn reestablish her death grip on her armrests. She glanced around the cabin.
The fact that no one was panicking gave her some solace. Looking out the window, she saw that they were entirely enveloped in clouds. A flash of lightning eerily lit up the sky.
As they flew south the turbulence increased, as did the frequency of the lightning. A terse announcement by the pilot that they would try to find smoother air at a different altitude did little to assuage Marilyn’s rising fears. She wanted the flight to be over.
The first sign of real disaster was a strange light that filled the plane, followed instantly by a tremendous bump and vibration. Several of the passengers let out half-suppressed screams that made Marilyn’s blood run cold. Instinctively she reached over and pulled Tamara closer to her.
The vibration increased in intensity as the plane began an agonizing roll to the right. At the same time the sound of the engines changed from a roar to an earsplitting whine. Sensing that she was being pressed into her seat and feeling disoriented in space, Marilyn looked out the window.
At first she didn’t see anything but clouds. But then she looked ahead and her heart leaped into her throat.
The earth was rushing up at them at breakneck speed! They were flying straight down…
10:40 P.M.
MANHATTAN GENERAL HOSPITAL NEW YORK CITY
Terese Hagen tried to swallow, but it was difficult; her mouth was bone dry. A few minutes later her eyes blinked open, and for a moment she was disoriented. When she realized she was in a surgical recovery room it all came back to her in a flash.
The problem had started without warning that evening just before she and Matthew were about to go out to dinner. There had been no pain. The first thing she was aware of was wetness, particularly on the inside of her thigh. Going into the bathroom, she was dismayed to find that she was bleeding. And it wasn’t just spotting.
It was active hemorrhaging. Since she was five months pregnant, she was afraid it spelled trouble.
Events had unfolded rapidly from that point. She’d been able to reach her physician, Dr. Carol Glanz, who offered to meet her at the Manhattan General’s emergency room. Once there, Terese’s suspicions had been confirmed and surgery scheduled. The doctor had said that it appeared as if the embryo had implanted in one of her tubes instead of the uterus—an ectopic pregnancy.
Within minutes of her regaining consciousness, one of the recovery-room nurses was at her side, reassuring her that everything was fine.
“What about my baby?” Terese asked. She could feel a bulky dressing over her disturbingly flat abdomen.
“Your doctor knows more about that than I do,” the nurse said. “I’ll let her know you are awake. I know she wants to talk with you.”
Before the nurse left, Terese complained about her dry throat. The nurse gave her some ice chips, and the cool fluid was a godsend.