Whispers: Chapter 1
The nurse began a long tale about her boyfriend. I was tempted to ask what a boyfriend is but realized I was probably not supposed to know the answer. At the grand age of six I already knew many important things. One: doctors like poking people. Two: parents don’t like explaining things.
It had been a long year filled with overweight balding doctors starting with that eye doctor in a pink shirt who looked into my eye and gasped and ending with this meeting: six doctors in one room. With six pairs of eyes staring at me I was happy to escape the room with Tracy who informed me that she was a student nurse. I happily told her I was a student too.
She kept shoving toys at me. I wanted to tell her I was way too old for toys but finally I consented to taking a battered doll. The doll was missing an eye and her cold stiffness made me nervous. I wished there was a teddy there. Teddies are way friendlier than dolls.
I was already a good eavesdropper. I knew that many people asked my parents why I was so thin and delicate usually ending the conversation with a recommendation for a diet of potatoes. Now I tried hard to listen through the door to the conversation that was definitely about me. ButTracywas on guard and I couldn’t get close enough to hear. I distracted myself by wondering if the doctor could fix this poor doll’s eye and by analyzing the scribbles onTracy’s hand. “It’s just blue pen I like to work out math problems on my hand” she reassured me. I informed her that in my school they gave us paper to scribble on.
My parents finally emerged from the room. Their eyes were red and they frowned not saying anything as they packed up my bag of treats. The treats were great; we never got this stuff at home even on Shabbos. I figured for all the poking I allowed the doctors to do I deserved some good candy.
On our way out of the hospital I caught the eye of a big teddy bear in the gift shop window. The teddy had two eyes and a small smile that made me feel it understood me. I pointed at it through the window. To my shock two minutes later the teddy was in my arms. The doctors and my parents had frowned at me all morning. I was beginning to think that I must have done something bad. But if I had the teddy bear I must be a good girl after all.
With ten of us kids, new things didn’t come into the house that often and I had to protect George the Bear (named for Curious George) from my siblings. My sister took one look at George, pinched me, and began crying that it wasn’t fair — first I got a special trip with our parents, and then I got George, too. I wanted to tell her it wasn’t a fun trip, but my mother gave me a warning gaze and I kept my mouth firmly closed.
George had a hard time settling into his new home and kept me awake that night. I covered his ears so he wouldn’t hear my mother crying on the phone — I didn’t want him to get scared too. “Life’s not fair,” I told him, repeating my mother’s favorite line. I finally drifted into sleep and slept through most of the next day.
When I awoke, I decided to refuse to go to school until my parents told me what was wrong with me. I lasted three days before I got too bored and gave in. My parents stared at me a lot in a way that made me nervous, but they wouldn’t tell me anything beyond the confusing, “Just enjoy being a child.”
I concluded that I must be dying. And so, after reassuring George that my best friend would take good care of him when I was gone, I set out to make the most of living.
(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 501)
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