Second Opinion

It was a natural thing to do, like breathing. Mamma's blood, soul, people and everything she'd ever known screamed that she was correct. You have to take care of your own, even if they were in-laws. It's what you do and the way things had to be. Motherhood compounded this rule by adding powerful instincts. It required in some circumstances a nearly violent emotional response. It was understandable, the bond was forged by one's own body and blood...and it was left to grow strong for nearly a year while in the womb.

Of course you would never settle down and ignore your fear as your child suffered. She could not do that any more than she could become an onion. They didn't understand her, but they should have. A mother like Carol's would have crossed oceans and leveled mountains to see her little one safe and healthy. It was nothing at all to annoy paper-pushers and demand another doctor, another appointment and just "one more" opinion. It's just what someone like Mamma does.

It all started rather innocently. Carol got a cold, and she had inherited her father's ears. The ear canals and drainage tubes seemed almost constantly blocked and infected. The cold led to congestion and Actifed. This would keep the child from getting an ear infection.

That was the plan, but something inside Carol went dreadfully wrong. She came down with red, hot, painful, red boils. In the beginning stages doctors labeled them everything from hives to chickenpox. But Mamma knew the doctors were wrong.

It wasn't something Mamma could put her finger on and perhaps this is why she was being pushed aside. It was something she knew in her gut, the same way she knew when her daughter was about to dart into traffic or when an envelope she received in the mail contained bad news. She knew that her daughter was dangerously ill and someone, somewhere was going to find out why. Which was why she'd gone to the little infirmary one more time. The staff was becoming petulant, but she steeled herself. They did eventually find a way to pass the buck and get Mamma out of their hair; they sent the family to Philadelphia Naval Hospital.

By the time the family was on the road, the rash turned into odd looking sores. Carol was hot and barely moved. Mamma's heart pounded as she prepared her little girl for one more examination. She wondered if this new place would take her concerns to heart.

Fate lined up a sequence of events that Mamma labeled a miracle. The day before Carol was sent there, a specialist had arrived to speak on a rare but deadly skin disease called Stevens Johnson Syndrome. It usually was an allergic reaction. But instead of causing an itchy rash and swollen respiratory system, the skin and mucous membranes would blister. It was as if the skin were being burned away or disintegrating before your eyes.

Mamma learned that few people survived a bout of Stevens Johnson Syndrome at that time due to the severity of the reaction and the general lack of information about the disease. There were also few drugs available to treat the disease. Without her vigilance, it is likely that Carol would have remained a mystery to everyone who had examined her until she finally died.

But, Carol had an obnoxious mother and she got to see the specialist and the "doctor with the soft hands." Mamma let them keep her daughter in the hospital for treatment, even though it broke her heart. The girl was kept in isolation, in a sterile room two hours from home. When flowers were sent, they were placed on a table outside the window where Carol could see them but would not be affected by anything. Carol's parents had to wash up and wear a mask when they visited. These extreme measures were taken to prevent undo stress on Carol's overloaded immune system.

Mamma's head was full of facts, she listed very closely as the specialist explained everything to her. She'd memorised all of the medical jargon. Even so, every time she left her baby there alone, her heart shattered and lay in pieces at her daughter's bedside. She never let the little girl see, but she cried each time they drove away. She wondered if Carol missed her. Would she die there alone? She never asked the question aloud, lest she hear something she couldn't bear. Carol went into the hospital in November, Mamma remembered the Thanksgiving decorations. It was nearly Christmas when she heard the news that Carol could come home.

Carol's mother stood outside the hospital examining her child as if for the first time. The girl before her was no longer febrile and covered in sores. Her eyes were bright, her hair full and shiny. She'd put on some weight. Mamma nearly choked on her joy. This was twice her child had nearly been taken from her. Twice the jaws of death snapped too close. She had no idea what Carol was to become, but she had been marked and protected by some unseen force...this much she knew. She was also painfully aware that hers were the hands chosen to lead, train and protect the girl along the first legs of this journey.

Mamma felt covered by a blanket of awesome responsibility and wondered if she'd be adequate. Her own childhood was marked by poverty and feelings of isolation in the midst of nearly a dozen siblings. She wondered if she could give Carol what she herself had never known. Before her lay a mission she could not fail. At least, though, she knew that this last time, when it counted, she had been worthy. The proof skipped happily beside her to the car.