Dogwinks, page 5
Luddy had gotten up from the table and walked into the living room. He shouted, “Troy—you better call work! Come look at this!”
The four of them stood transfixed at the TV. They were riveted in horror as the television images showed an aircraft flying into one of the two World Trade Center buildings in New York.
Not long after, they were stunned, along with the rest of the world, as a second plane crashed into the second tower. Now they knew it wasn’t an accident. This was an act of war. And they watched the unimaginable as both buildings—world landmarks representing the towering strength of America—collapsed into rubble.
Troy had special telephone access to his work as an air traffic controller. He called his boss to see if he was needed. Whoever answered the phone was in such crisis mode, they instantly hung up.
Pam quietly became more and more anxious. Like a brightly colored birthday balloon, she felt punctured as the joy for the new life within her slowly drained from her psyche, converting into enormous anxiety. All the excitement and optimism of bringing a baby into the world was now turning on the question: What kind of world am I bringing my baby into?
Same Time, Same Day—Brooklyn
Ann was calling the Newsday office from her apartment. The TV was on in the background with the video of the first plane crashing into the World Trade Center being played over and over.
“Okay,” she repeated into the phone with a sense of urgency. “I’ll get to the base of the Brooklyn Bridge and gather interviews from victims walking off.” She paused as the person she was speaking to asked a question. Then she answered: “The bridge is four miles from my apartment.”
Not long after, holding her notebook, Ann gazed at the stream of frightened and weary people coming off the bridge. Her heart went out to the dozens of people covered in white ash, like a scene out of a horror movie, walking toward her almost zombie-like. Some were too shocked even to speak. Others talked loudly, seemed to need to tell their stories in great detail.
For hours she interviewed people crossing over the Brooklyn Bridge, stopping every once in a while to call the paper with her notes.
Often the cell service didn’t work and Ann had to stand in a long line at a pay phone.
When Ann arrived at Newsday the following morning, it was surreal. Instead of it being a boisterous war room, as one might imagine, people were introspective and quiet; it was as though the events of the past twenty-four hours were so tragic and horrendous, no one wanted to dwell on them in idle chatter. Everyone went on with their jobs as efficiently and as quickly as they could.
September 16, 2001—Kissimmee, FL
Five days after 9/11, Troy had connected with colleagues at work and confirmed that bridges and tunnels in and out of New York had been reopened. He and Pam packed up their minivan, put Bullet into his seat, and left at dawn Sunday on their journey back up I-95 from Florida to New York in order for Troy to be back at work on Tuesday. They were glad to be heading home.
During the trip Bullet can sense the undercurrent of anxiety… with Troy and Pam… and everyone, even people at the rest stops. He is most content sitting in the back seat, window down, inhaling the salty scent of the warm sea breezes, hearing different sounds and birds, and picking up the scents of autumn approaching as they travel north.
He muses about their vacation. And the new joy in Pam’s voice when she talks about the… What does she call it? The “baby.”
As Troy and Pam drove, they witnessed an extraordinary sight. Flags were flying everywhere. From buildings and homes and dangling from every crane at every construction site. Each flag seemed to be shouting a defiance against an enemy that would not defeat us, but make us stronger and united Americans.
They were quiet as they approached the skyline of New York. A large column of smoke rose from the devastation in Lower Manhattan. Once they passed over the Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge heading toward Long Island, they knew they were only an hour or so from home in Bellport.
The Next Week—Newsday Offices, Melville, NY
Ann and many other reporters were given assignments that would become their daily tasks for months to come. In addition to their usual beats, they were asked to research and write one or two obituaries—personal stories about victims identified in the carnage—with a large portion of their day spent hearing the heartbreaking stories of loved ones who had died.
Newsday developed a daily section called “The Lost” to memorialize those who had perished. It turned out to be a source of great comfort for thousands of readers.
Early 2002—Bellport, Long Island
Pam continued working at her job in the hospitality business, trying her best to separate the horrendous events of 9/11 from the wonderful news that she had received on the same day. Doctors calculated that the baby was conceived during July 2001 and that full-term birth would be in late April 2002.
She grew more and more excited as she felt the baby moving within her, holding on to the belief that she articulated that morning she discovered her pregnancy. She honestly believed, this time, things would be different… no more miscarriages… God’s blessing would be realized.
Still, she remained cautious, never taking unnecessary chances, getting her sleep, and always following her doctor’s advice.
In her third trimester Pam’s gynecologist advised that she was suffering from placenta previa, an abnormality that occurs in 1 of 200 births. Her doctor prescribed bed rest as the primary treatment, and told Pam that placenta previa nearly always requires cesarean delivery.
Bullet senses something different going on—Pam’s body has been changing in size and she’ll hold his head next to her belly, letting him listen to the tiny sounds going on inside her. Every once in a while he feels little movements; they startled him at first, then made him curious. This much he knows: this thing Pam calls “the baby” is something he likes.
April 10, 2002
Baby Troy was born about two weeks early at Stony Brook University Hospital, thirty minutes from their home. Because the baby’s birth was considered complicated, and due to Pam’s cesarean delivery, she and the baby were required to remain hospitalized for four days.
Pam was concerned about Bullet being home alone and mentioned it to a Stony Brook nurse. The nurse had an idea, returning with one of the hospital blankets that had swaddled baby Troy. “Have your husband give this to your dog. It may give him comfort to smell the baby, but also prepare him for when the baby comes home,” she advised.
Troy would show up at the hospital in late afternoon to visit Pam and the baby. He was soon bringing amusing and heartfelt stories of Bullet and the baby blanket.
“He drags that blanket everywhere,” said Troy, laughing at the images in his mind. “He sleeps with it, runs around the house with it; he even takes it outdoors when he has to do his business.”
Pam laughed too. “I guess Bullet is comforted. Me too!”
April 2002—Brooklyn
Offering Ann a modicum of escape from her daily obituary writing was the bright light at the end of the tunnel of summer—Labor Day—when she and Rafer were going to be married in a park near the Brooklyn Bridge. It wasn’t to be a large wedding, but just talking about it and planning it provided relief from the dark cloud that hung over every newsroom in the country, and especially those in metropolitan New York.
April 14, 2002—Stony Brook University Hospital
Pam was thrilled when they said she and her baby could finally go home, even though the baby had breathing difficulties.
“I can’t wait for you to meet Bullet,” she cooed to baby Troy, strapped into his car seat, in the back.
Speaking to Troy as he drove, she asked, “Do we have anything to eat in the house? I’m starved.”
Troy said that he’d gotten a few things at the store and reported that the baby’s bassinet was set up right next to Pam’s side of the bed, just as she’d asked.
“Whatever we do, let’s try to get to sleep early,” she suggested. Troy nodded.
Woof, woof, woof.
Bullet isn’t usually much of a barker. But this is special. Not only is the love of his life, Pam, coming into the house, but so is Troy, carrying something carefully wrapped in a blanket. He has an idea… to show them his blanket! The moment they come through the door, he runs around excitedly, dragging the blanket smelling like sweet baby powder behind.
When Pam shows him the tiny infant wrapped in a baby blanket—which smells just like his—Bullet knows he has a new friend. Also, a new job… to watch out for this little creature.
For Pam it was such a relief to be home, sleeping in her own bed. She smiled and said a little prayer before she closed her eyes on the image of her two babies: baby Troy an arm’s length away, and Bullet, her baby secret service agent, taking up his station underneath the bassinet.
Over the next two weeks Bullet sees more activity in the household than he can ever remember. There are not only new smells, but noises. He doesn’t like one bit to hear baby Troy crying.
Troy Sr. had taken off three weeks when the baby arrived on April 10 and wasn’t due back to work until May 1. And there seemed to be more visitors than usual wanting to see the baby. For each one Bullet had to show off his blanket. You also never had to ask where the dog was; wherever baby Troy was, so was Bullet.
He watches Pam feed the little tyke with a bottle. Unfortunately, nothing falls on the floor, so there are no scraps. But Pam takes care of that. She always makes sure he gets a little treat. That’s one of the things he loves about her. Always thoughtful.
May 1, 4:30 a.m.
Buzz.
Troy clicked off his alarm clock at 4:30, rolled out of bed, and headed for the shower. He was finally going back to work.
Pam, awakened by the alarm, slid out of bed and took a peek at the baby. In the dim light, he looked fine. She reached out and patted Bullet down below.
As long as she was up, she decided she might as well warm a bottle and feed the baby a little early. Sliding into her slippers, she scuffed down the hall to the kitchen.
Woof, woof, woof!
Bullet’s barking, rarely heard, and never at this time of day, alarmed her.
“Bullet! What’s the matter?” said Pam, coming into the hallway. Bullet was more animated than he’d been in years, literally jumping on the parquet floor, rushing back and forth, continuing to bark.
Following Bullet, Pam rushed into the bedroom to the bassinet. The baby was motionless. But is he sleeping? She reached down, swooped him up, and walked rapidly toward the light near the bathroom. She was horrified by what she saw. The baby looked like he was crying… but no sound was coming out! She watched her baby turn from red-faced to purplish blue.
“Troy, Troy!” she screamed, holding the baby against her shoulder, patting his back, entering the bathroom where Troy was wrapped in a towel.
Recognizing the emergency, Troy briskly lifted the baby from Pam, shouting “Call 911!” He quickly carried the baby to the bed, laid him on his side, and patted his back, hoping to dislodge anything that was clogging his throat.
Troy’s mind raced to a movie he had seen in high school, about CPR. What did it say to do? He held the baby by his ankles, again gently patting his back.
A woman’s voice on the speakerphone was now filling the room. Bullet started barking. Pam, in a panicked voice, said, “This is an emergency! My newborn baby is not breathing! Please come quickly!”
The operator asked for her address and calmly instructed Pam to unlock the door so the EMT team could get in, which she did, as she carried the phone with her.
Apparently, the computer screen at the dispatcher’s end provided her with added information. She said, surprised, “One EMT is on his way right now! He lives in your neighborhood.”
Woof, woof, woof!
Bullet was hearing someone approaching. The EMT bounded through the open door and took the baby from Troy, all the while asking questions to establish what had happened.
“This is unusual,” said the 911 operator, still on the phone with Pam. “Another EMT—also from your neighborhood—is coming from ten houses away.” Again with a bewildered tone in her voice, she said, “He’ll also be there ahead of the ambulance, which is only a few more minutes away.”
Woof, woof, woof!
Bullet was at the door again as the second EMT rushed in. Moments later, Bullet announced the arrival of the ambulance team, followed by local police and firemen.
Once the emergency medical technicians had the baby stabilized and breathing again, they advised Pam and Troy which hospital they were proceeding to: Brookhaven Medical Center, only seven minutes away versus a half hour to Stony Brook University Hospital, where the baby had been born. One parent could ride in the ambulance; they suggested it be Troy, who was already dressed, and asked if Pam could meet them there in her own car.
“Yes, yes. Go. I’ll follow you,” said Pam frantically.
As he quickly packed his gear, the EMT said to Troy, “Another few seconds and I’m afraid we would have lost your baby. Your dog is a hero!”
Pam looked at him blankly with wide eyes. Thank God for Bullet… but also… I have to get to the hospital!
5:30 a.m.
As Pam quickly threw on some slacks and a blouse and grabbed her car keys and a light jacket, she thought, God… what if Bullet had not insisted that I go look at the baby at that very minute?
She kneeled down to hug her rescuer. “I love you, Bullet. My hero.”
Looking up, she said, “God, we’re still not out of the woods! Please help the doctors find out why my baby stopped breathing!”
Hastily, she said, “Bullet, you be a good boy. We’ll…” Her voice cracked. “… I hope we’ll be back soon.”
She cried as she ran out the door. About to get into her minivan, she saw a predicament. Troy’s Dodge Daytona was blocking her in. There was no way around it, not even driving across the lawn. She turned, dashed back into the house, grabbed the other keys from the rack, and, without pausing, ran to Troy’s vehicle, just as she remembered … Oh, no… I can’t drive this! It’s a stick shift. I don’t know how.
For a moment she stood in the driveway, crying, stunned and dumbfounded. But her mission was critical. She had no choice. She climbed into the Dodge—sniffling back tears and breathing heavily—and started the car. She tried to move the shift, pleading with herself to remember. How did you tell me to do it, Troy?
“God, I need Your help right now! I don’t know how to drive this thing and my baby needs me!” she yelled.
She tried again. Remembered something about a “clutch.” She pushed it down with her foot and pulled the gearshift. The vehicle jumped and jerked, but she managed to back into the street, narrowly missing a parked car. She braked in a sudden stop, then repeated, clutching and shifting, this time in forward. The car jerked ahead again, but Pam was a desperate mother trying to get to her baby, frightened and crying all the way to Brookhaven Medical Center. If you had asked her where she parked the Dodge, she couldn’t have told you. She just ran as fast as she could into the emergency room, shouting, “I’m here to see my baby!”
Pam embraced Troy, who was in the waiting room. He looked tense, telling Pam he hadn’t heard anything yet.
Just then a nurse emerged and said the baby was stabilized and breathing evenly. She said Pam could come with her to see the baby.
Pam remained worried as she saw a young nurse tending to baby Troy. The nurse seemed tentative and inexperienced. She watched as the nurse started to remove the EKG lines from the baby, attached by adhesives. Pam instinctively opened her mouth to shout “No!” just as the young lady began to rip the sticky pads from the baby.
Too late! The ripping sound was followed by the baby’s face again contorting into a fierce cry that produced no sounds. Again, the child’s face turned from red to purplish blue. Pam didn’t know what to do!
“Can anybody do something?” she shouted.
A more experienced nurse, who was supposed to have left work already, was walking past the door to the room when she heard the commotion. She looked in and knew exactly what to do. She lifted the baby lengthwise, raising it so the child’s face was even with her own face; then, like she was playing a flute, she oxygenated the baby by blowing across its nose and mouth.
The baby took a breath!
A doctor—who was also supposed to be off duty, but was still there—rushed into the room and began making arrangements for the child and Pam to be transported to Stony Brook University Hospital, which had a far more sophisticated neonatal clinic, and was more capable of dealing with this emergency.
Again, Pam’s heart was racing. Again, she was witnessing the rescuing of her baby. And again, she thanked God for the blessings and Godwinks.
Returning to Stony Brook University Hospital, where Pam had birthed baby Troy, was a comfort for Pam and Troy. She was more confident that Stony Brook had the resources to determine what was wrong.
Over the course of the next two weeks, baby Troy was diagnosed with silent reflux, a backing up of the stomach contents into the baby’s underdeveloped esophagus, which was complicated by the discovery of a curvature of the spine.
May 15, 2002—Stony Brook University Hospital
As Troy handled the paperwork for the baby to be released from the hospital, Pam recounted their blessings with Troy’s mom, Irene. Their baby was now safe, thanks to a small army of heroes.
“Bullet was the biggest hero of all!” she said excitedly, rattling off the other Godwinks that had flowed from his actions at the start of the crisis. What were the odds that two EMTs lived in the neighborhood and had arrived ahead of the ambulance? And what about the nurse at Brookhaven Medical Center, who was just walking past the doorway at the exact moment she was needed, and who knew how to do CPR on an infant? She was supposed to be off duty; same as the doctor.
