Mother's Child, page 33
“Yeah. Okay. Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”
“Yep. I feel fine, really. Let’s go so I can get back.” I said and stood.
Tim stood and we headed for the door. We didn’t think to leave the building via Tim’s secret side door. We assumed the reporters had abandoned us. We were certain our story was already old news, so we headed straight out the front entrance of the hospital.
We were wrong.
The courthouse appearance produced a record of the proceedings that morning which kindled new interest in “our story.” The moment we went through the doors, a handful of reporters with camera crews cozied up to us and began hurling questions.
“June, is it true that Child Services has taken custody of your children?”
“Is there any truth to the rumor your son was poisoned?”
“Mr. Gallagher, is your son’s coma the result of abuse or neglect?”
We were blinded by the lights and eager to escape the unwanted attention. But that last question drew me back toward the light and to the rage from which I had just recovered. Tim, sensing what was building in me once again, took me by the arm and pulled me forward, away from the inquisition.
But I was not going to let this challenge go unanswered. I freed my arm from Tim’s grip to confront the reporter. Tim called after me. I knew he was concerned that I would react too harshly and suffer another spell. I took a deep breath, relaxed my muscles as best I could, and then, facing every camera aimed in my direction, spoke.
“Our child has a very rare disease which this hospital does not recognize or have any experience with treating. They refuse to send him to his specialist at University Hospital where he can get proper care. Our son Ernie is the victim of a doctor’s arrogance, unwarranted interference from a would-be social worker, and a system that favors making parents criminals over understanding a child’s needs.”
“Mrs. Gallagher,” called one woman reporter, shoving a microphone closer to my face, “an anonymous source has said there is a CPS report that references your son’s many hospital visits, doctor visits, and related emergencies. Are you saying this report is false?”
I took another deep breath before I answered. Tim was now at my side and had hold of my arm again.
“We have never seen any such report, and I will repeat what I just said. Our son has a rare disease that this hospital staff is incapable of treating. Our lawyer will soon be getting our son out of here and to University where he can be treated by his own specialist.”
“That’s it.” Tim added in a stern voice. He led me away by the arm and this time I didn’t resist. I walked along beside him to our car. Thankfully, the reporters kept their distance, maybe they got what they wanted. We buckled ourselves in, Tim turned on the car and drove off calmly.
“Freaking reporters,” he said as we cleared the hospital parking lot. “I don’t think we should have talked to them June. Larry said…”
“You didn’t talk to them, Tim. I did. And Larry isn’t here. There was no way in hell I was going to let those questions of abuse go unchallenged and then have them write some made-up follow-up story or show us ducking away, tails between our legs, as if their suggestive questioning had merit.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I guess not. Tell you the truth…you were really strong but calm with your answers. I was kinda impressed.”
“Meaning relieved?”
“Well, yeah, that too. Seriously though, you just basically challenged the hospital on record. So they probably aren’t going to be warming to us visiting and might start an attack of their own.”
“They challenged us first by taking Ernie against our will and then giving false information for a CPS report. And, frankly Tim, I don’t give a rat’s…butthole…what they think. And what more can they do? They have our son, they control our visitation rights, and the CPS supports their control. What are we supposed to do?”
“Yeah, I know. We really have to trust Larry can challenge the CPS report and show the court what is really going on.” Tim said and then we paused our conversation for a bit before Tim continued. “One odd thing though, I am fairly certain that the CPS report is completely confidential. I wonder who leaked it to the press?”
“Really? Well my guess is some court worker or…or maybe Ruth. I wouldn’t put it past her.”
“Ehhh, well I hate to say it, but yeah, she would be on the top of my list too. Or someone else at the hospital.”
The rest of the ride to Tim’s office went by mostly in silence. We occasionally speculated about what Larry’s next steps might be or tried to guess who might have leaked the report. I dropped Tim off at his office and then headed for a nearby sandwich shop. My appetite was not screaming for food, but I was still concerned that maybe my fainting spell had something to do with not eating well, so I gave in to that logic and bought a tuna fish sandwich, Diet Coke, and barbecue chips. Not exactly the definition of “eating well” but it was food, which meant energy, which in turn meant maybe not being so run down and prone to fainting.
When I returned to the hospital, the news crews were just packing up, preparing to go to their next assignment or perhaps back to their stations. I wondered why they were delayed in leaving after our interlude, but I felt relieved that I could enter the hospital without being hassled, so I quickly shrugged it off.
When Ruth saw me enter the hospital, she immediately picked up her desk phone, turned to face away from me and began a conversation. I got to her desk just as she was hanging up–it was a very brief call, but I was fairly certain I was the subject of the exchange.
I inhaled deeply, put on my best face and then approached Ruth’s desk. I wanted to see Ernie again, but didn’t want this to count as one of my three visits per day.
“Hi, Ruth,” I said nonchalantly. “Can I sneak up to see Ernie?” Her hesitation and confused expression told me I should add something more to my approach. “Actually, I need to talk to Dr. Grinsby about Ernie’s condition.”
Ruth took a moment before answering.
“Yes, okay,” she finally said. “I’ll call up to the nurses’ station to let them know you’re coming.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
I stared at her for a few seconds then made my way to the elevators. Something about her demeanor told me that something was not right. She acquiesced to my request, which was odd in itself, but she did so with an undertone of uncertainty–I felt she wanted to say “no” but couldn’t.
By the time I had reached Ernie’s floor and the elevator doors opened, I dismissed the odd feeling as just my bias toward Ruth. I was getting to see Ernie and that’s all that mattered.
A nurse didn’t meet me at the elevator bank, which I thought was odd, so I let myself into Ernie’s room. All of the life-giving machines were still humming and swooshing while Ernie continued his long sleep. I kissed my little boy’s forehead then set down my purse and sat on the edge of his bed, held his hand, and talked to him.
“Hi, honey. It’s Mommy again. How’s my big boy? Daddy had to go to work, but Elsie is going to come by a little later and Daddy will be back soon, too. We all miss you and love you. All your animals are missing you too–especially the kangaroo–and your nice comfy bed. Your friends at school miss you. Oh, and Charlotte called to make certain we said “hello” from her. She misses her favorite student.”
I brought Ernie’s hand close to my face and rubbed it against my cheek, planting little kisses on his hand in between caresses. His hand was so cold.
“Please Ernie. Please come back to us. I need my little boy so much…I love you to pieces. Please wake up, honey.” I wept into his cold hand briefly warming the skin with my tears. I knew I should be brave for my little love and say only good things and not cry. But I was lost. Hopelessly lost. Powerless to help him or to even get him somewhere that offered hope. I thought my love would be enough to wake him, to bring him back, but it wasn’t. Even our special bond couldn’t reach him and that realization had made me sink into depression and fear.
I struggled to swallow my tears and stop the tremors that had taken command of my midsection. It took me several minutes before I could win the fight for control over my body and regain some semblance of sway over my emotional outburst. The river of emotions that flowed from my eyes dwindled to a trickle.
A moment later, Dr. Grinsby entered the room and cleared his throat loudly. I was grateful for his announcement, clearly performed for my benefit, because it gave me a few seconds to gather my senses. I wiped my tears on the back of my hand, stood, and smoothed the material that had gathered my slacks into folds. I turned to face Dr. Grinsby.
“Just checking in on your son,” he said. There was something strange in the way he looked at me. “Just seeing if there are any changes or significant events to be aware of.”
I said nothing.
“You know, Mrs. Gallagher, your appearance in front of the reporters this morning is not going to help your cause.” Grinsby added in an awkward change of subjects. “The hospital will not react well to being, well, attacked and misrepresented, and may even revoke your visitation privileges. We wouldn’t want you to be kept from seeing your son, now would we?”
I looked at Grinsby in silence for a short while longer. An unexpected calm washed over me, substituting the ire that wanted to rule my emotions.
“You know, Dr. Grinsby,” I calmly said, “I have no control over what you or this hospital does. I don’t know your motivation or your logic or whatever is driving this desire you have to force your ignorance into my child’s care. I know my motivation–and my husband’s–and it is a very singular one: to get our child the best care he can have that will bring him back to us. And I know that he will never get that here. So, whatever we have to do, we will do. Whatever the hospital has to do in their own interests, I am certain they will continue to do. We have no intention of backing down, and we will use whatever resource it takes to help my son. Whatever resource it takes.”
When I finished, I picked up my purse that I had placed on the floor near Ernie’s bed and walked determinedly past Grinsby who was struck with silence. When I got to the door, I turned back to take a last look at my sleeping son and then looked toward Grinsby.
“Ernie.” I said to a dumbfounded Grinsby. “My son’s name is Ernie. You’ve only ever called him my son. I just thought you should know who you are treating.”
***
It was just after 1 pm when I left the hospital. The reporters were all gone. I drove to Elsie’s school and found her sitting on the curb outside the entrance. She wasn’t wearing the heavier fall jacket she had on when she left home. She wore a deep blue, long-sleeve cotton blouse and jeans and sneakers. She didn’t have her school books or her backpack either. Elsie seemed down when she got in the car with me.
“Hi honey. Everything okay? Where’s your jacket and backpack?” I asked as we drove away.
“I’m sorry Mom…” Was all she got out before she began to cry.
I drove just a bit more, turned into the first side street I came across, and pulled over.
“Elsie. Honey what’s wrong.” I asked while stroking her hair. “They made me talk to them.”
“Who honey? Who made you talk to them?”
“The lady from the child’s place and the principal. They said they could take me away from you if I didn’t talk now.” Elsie tried to explain while trying to catch her breath through the tears she choked off.
I undid my seatbelt and slid over closer to Elsie. I took her face in my hands and kissed her forehead.
“Oh Elsie. It’s okay, just breathe, honey. It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.” I assured her as I held back the anger that wanted release. I hugged her into me the best I could, given the confines dictated by her seatbelt. “What did they ask you?”
“They wanted to know about my migraines and missing school, and any arguments at home and about Ernie, and was I happy, and I don’t know…a bunch of stupid stuff!” She was agitated, living it again for me and pulled away from me.
“You said I didn’t have to talk to them, but they said I did or I would have to later and they could take me…and stuff like that.”
“Honey. Honey. They were wrong. They had no right to make you say anything and they knew it. It’s their fault not yours. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s okay.” I held her face in my hands again as I spoke. “Elsie, did they say anything else before you left?”
“No. They made notes on some paper, the lady from the child place did. Then she said she wanted me to wait while they called someone. But I just got up and walked out and then ran out here to wait for you.” I used my thumbs to wipe the wetness from the corners of her eyes then took hold of her hands.
“Okay, good. Don’t worry about it, honey. Your father and I will deal with them, and Larry our attorney. Nothing’s going to happen. So just forget about them. So, I guess that your jacket and backpack are still at school?”
“Yeah. I didn’t have time to go to my locker. I just wanted to get out of there.” Elsie said as she sniffled and used her sleeve to wipe a few more tears from her eyes and face.
“Yeah I know, no biggie.” I made a decision. I steered the car away from the curb and did a U-turn. “I’m going to go get your backpack and jacket. Is your phone in your backpack?”
“No! No, Mom! You can’t! They might attack you!”
“Oh my God, Elsie. Now you’re being a little dramatic. I’m not going to say anything to anyone. I going to go to your locker, get your stuff and leave.”
“Okay, but Mom, what if they try to make you talk to them, or what if they come out to the car to get me?”
“I know how to handle them, Elsie. I’ll just ignore them. And you lock the car doors and just ignore anyone who comes to the car. I’ll be five minutes tops. What’s your locker number and combination?”
Elsie gave me her locker and combination which I entered into my cell phone notes app before exiting the car. I had parked at the farthest end of the school driveway, away from any potential onlookers. When I entered the school, the corridors were empty; the kids and teachers must have been in classes. I quickly found Elsie’s locker, entered her combination into the lock and retrieved her backpack and jacket. No one saw me and I saw no one. I was almost disappointed. I would have loved to have given the principal and whoever that other woman was a very large piece of my mind.
Instead, I was literally back with Elsie in the promised five minutes. “Here ya go,” I said while I got into the car and handed Elsie her things. She immediately tossed everything onto the back seat. “Did you get any lunch, honey?”
“No.”
“Okay, well, let’s go get you some lunch and then we’ll head to the hospital and see Ernie or…maybe wait to see if your dad can get there early and we can all go up together. Do you have homework to do?”
“Can we go for sushi? Just a little homework.”
“Umm, yeah, okay. I guess we have time. Then you can do your homework at the hospital while we wait.”
***
After lunch, Elsie and I returned to the hospital. Elsie took a seat while I approached Ruth to ask if there was any change in Ernie’s condition. We didn’t exchange any forced pleasantries. I asked for an update on Ernie and she called up to the nurse’s station on his floor. They said Ernie’s condition had not changed but that Dr. Grinsby would be around later to check on him again. We decided to wait and see if Tim could join us soon before we used up one of our visitation coupons.
After my conversation with Dr. Grinsby, I was afraid hospital officials might be tightening their reins on us, and I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by pushing for an extra visitation.
We went to the cafeteria so Elsie would have a reasonable work area with a table and chair. I nursed a very old cup of coffee and read a dated issue of Time magazine that I had taken from the waiting area. At 4 pm, Tim texted me to say he had hitched a ride and was on his way to the hospital. He also told me to meet him in the cafeteria (fortuitous), and not to try and see Ernie without him. I texted “okay”. I assumed he wanted me to wait because he didn’t want to be left out of the visit or risk not being let up later on.
I was wrong.
Thirty minutes after Tim’s phone call, he joined Elsie and me at our table. He looked harried; his hair was tousled, his tie hung loose around his neck and showed that two top buttons of his shirt were unfastened. His rumpled shirt was half out on one side.
“Hey,” Tim said as he kissed my cheek. “Hi, Elsie.” Elsie barely looked up from her cell phone when he kissed her on her head. “Did you see Ernie?” He asked as he pulled a plastic chair closer to me.
“No, we didn’t see Ernie. You said not to.” I answered as Tim finished his chair move. “What happened to you?” I looked him up and down. Even seated he looked a mess.
“Huh?” Tim asked as his eyes took the same tour of his body mine had just completed. “Oh. I went to the gym before I left, to get in 30 minutes of cardio, and I had to rush out of there or I would have missed my ride.”
“So, what’s the news from Larry?”
Tim looked at Elsie who put down her phone ready to engage with us. “Well, the noontime news reports ran your, um interview from this morning. He didn’t like it.”
“Why? He didn’t like me telling the truth?”
“Wait,” Elsie interrupted. “Mom, you were on TV again?” Elsie was really interested now.
“It was nothing Elsie,” I said. “The reporters were waiting for your dad and me outside the hospital when we left.”
“And you didn’t tell me at lunch?” Elsie was incredulous. “Wow, Mom, that would have been a good thing to know.”
“Ughh, I mostly forgot about it. And you had your own things you were going through.”
“Wait, what thing was Elsie going through?” Tim was now left out of the loop.
