“Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know. It was a stupid thing to say-I’m sorry.”
“What’s the matter, Cindy?”
She turned away and played with her braid some more. Then she sat back
down. Picking up the deck of cards, she passed it from hand to hand.
“It’s just that.” she said, speaking so softly I had to move closer,
“I each time I bring her here she gets better. And then I take her
home, thinking everything’s going to be okay, and it is for a while,
and then. And then she gets sick again.”
Keeping her head down, she nodded.
Cassie mumbled something to a plastic figure. Cindy said, “That’s
good, baby,” but the little girl didn’t seem to hear.
I said, And then she gets sick all over again and you’re let down.”
Cassie threw the figure down, picked up another, and began shaking
it.
Cindy said, And then all of a sudden, she’s okay-just like now.
That’s what I meant-about being crazy. Sometimes I think I’m crazy.”
She shook her head and returned to Cassie’s bedside. Taking a lock of
the child’s hair between her fingers, she let it slip away.
Peering into the playhouse, she said, “Well, look at that-they’re all
eating what you made for dinner!” Her voice was so cheerful it made
the roof of my mouth ache.
She stayed there, playing with Cassie’s hair, pointing at the dolls,
and prompting. Cassie made imitative sounds. Some of them sounded
like words.
I said, “How about we go down for a cup of coffee? Vicki can stay with
Cassie.”
Cindy looked up. One hand rested on Cassie’s shoulder. “Nono, I’m
sorry, Dr. Delaware, I couldn’t. I never leave her,” she said.
“Never?”
She shook her head. “Not when she’s in here. I know that sounds
crazy, too, but I can’t. You hear too many. . .things.”
“What kinds of things?”
Accidents-someone getting the wrong medicine. Not that I’m actually
worried-this is a great hospital. But I just need to be here.
I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
“I’m sure it’s more for me than for her, but. . “She bent and hugged
Cassie. Cassie squirmed and continued playing. Cindy gave me a
helpless look.
“I know I’m being overprotective,” she said.
“Not considering what you’ve been through.”
“Well. thanks for saying that.”
I pointed to the chair.
She gave a weak smile and sat down.
“It must be a real strain,” I said. “Being here so often. It’s one
thing working in a hospital, but being dependent is something else.”
She looked puzzled. “Working in a hospital?”
“You were a respiratory tech, right?” I said. “Didn’t you do it at a
hospital?”
“Oh, that. That was such a long time ago. No, I never got that far
didn’t graduate.”
“Lost interest?”
“Kind of.” Picking up the box of cards, she tapped one knee.
Actually, going into R.T. in the first place was my aunt’s idea. She
was an R.N. Said a woman should have a skill even if she didn’t use it,
and that I should find something that would always be in demand, like
health care. With the way we were ruining the air, people smoking, she
felt there’d always be a call for R . T.”s.”
“Your aunt sounds like someone with strong opinions.”
She smiled. “Oh, she was. She’s gone now.” Rapid eyeblink.
“She was a fantastic person. My parents passed on when I was a kid and
she basically raised me by herself.”
“But she didn’t encourage you to go into nursing? Even though she was
an R.N. ?”
Actually she recommended against nursing. Said it was too much work
for too little pay and not enough.
She gave an embarrassed smile.
“Not enough respect from the doctors?”
“Like you said, Dr. Delaware, she had strong opinions on just about
everything.”
“Was she a hospital nurse?”
“No, she worked for the same G. P for twenty-five years and they
bickered the whole time like an old married couple. But he was a
really nice man-old-fashioned family doctor, not too good about
collecting his bills. Aunt Harriet was always on him for that. She
was a real stickler for details, probably from her days in the army-she