Monday of last week was not yet over before we were finding it mighty strange without Hannah around. Twice this week, I’ve filled a plate for her at suppertime. Last year when I signed our Christmas cards, I put Keith’s name on a good 85% of them. Creatures of habit…
Spotting a $20 bill Hannah had left behind in the box that had held her wedding book, I said, “I do hope she hasn’t forgotten she is with Bobby, and driven off and forgotten him somewhere.”
Everybody laughed, and then Caleb, sobering abruptly, asked, “Would she?”
I allowed as how she most likely would not, but you never can tell about woozles.
When Dorcas came home from work that afternoon, she was barely able to make it to the door from her car; she’d twisted her knee and fallen while playing with the children. Throughout the evening, it steadily got worse. Teddy went to the Wrights’ to borrow their crutches for his sister (they’ve been needed at the Wrights’ house for an assorted array of calamities and misfortunes), and he also bought her a special bandage to put on her knee.
We decided, if the knee had not improved by the next morning, we would take her to our doctor in David City for X-rays.
The littles went out to pick mulberries that afternoon…but they wound up with none, because whatever mulberries they did pick got spilt. Well…not all of them got spilt; Victoria looked decidedly purple around the mouth.
My mother gave Lydia for her birthday the most beautiful doll any of the girls have ever had. My sister Lura Kay found it and told my mother about it. It’s weighted just like a real baby, and is beautifully molded. Lydia loves it dearly. That evening, Keith and Esther came to give Lydia her present--a little porcelain girl in a ruffly dress pushing a wooden wheelbarrow full of flowers. She promptly set it up on the end table in the living room, so everyone could properly admire it.
After Lydia finished opening her gifts, the kids all went outside to play basketball. Teddy took a loaded squirt gun with him…tell me, do you need a squirt gun to play basketball? He shot up into the air…a drop of water landed on Keith…and the fight was on. Soon all the boys--plus Hester, of course--were soaked. Just what I wanted: wet clothes, when I’d just finished the wash.
Oh, well…someday, years and years from now, the children will delight in retelling the story of the Basketball Water Fight. But they will never someday speak in delight about their mother Having All the Clothes Washed, all at the same time, for once; they don’t care a fig about that.
Lawrence and Norma came to show us the pictures Norma had taken at the wedding. After visiting for a while, Norma said, “Well, I think we’d better remove our feet--” and Larry butted in quickly, exclaiming, “No!! Leave them on!!”
--causing both Lawrence and Norma to burst into laughter.
Larry went to Madison Body Shop to get the title for Jennifer and Sarah McDonald’s car Monday afternoon. By Monday evening, he had finished the car. That night, we took everyone (except Dorcas and Lydia) for a ride in the six-door crewcab out south of town, up the bluff. Lydia had wanted to come, too; but when she saw that everyone else was planning to go, which would leave Dorcas home by herself, she changed her mind and stayed home. Lydia overflows with sympathy for her sister; she is a Helpful Little Hattie to have on hand.
When we returned from our ride, Teddy played his trombone while I played the piano; and then we all gathered around the piano and sang, and Dorcas videotaped us from her perch in the recliner.
We wound up with oodles and gobs of leftover wedding food: one and three-quarters gallons of pickle relish, eight loaves of bread, one whole tier of the cake, three huge cans of nuts… What, we wondered, were we ever going to do with one and three-fourths gallons of pickle relish??! Teddy asked Keith if he wanted a gallon. (Imagine, Keith and Esther using a gallon of relish.)
“I already told Jennifer and Sarah they could take a gallon home with them,” I informed him.
Teddy stared at me, eyebrows rising. “Ohhhh,” he moaned, “that’s mean.”
Monday night we thought Victoria was having an allergic reaction to all the nuts she’d been eating. She started crying, saying her mouth and throat hurt…I took a look, and discovered that her throat was awfully red and swollen, and even had open sores on it. I promptly gave her some Dimetapp and lots of water… but I thought the sores in her throat looked like they’d been there for more than just one day, so perhaps she was getting what Dorcas has had. By bedtime, she felt much too hot. I gave her some Tylenol, and the next morning I started giving her Amoxicillin.
My Uncle Bill and Aunt Helen, Uncle Bob, and cousin Patty left early Monday morning. We were so glad they were able to come; Uncle Bill and Uncle Bob had not been here since my father’s funeral in 1992, and it was the very first time Aunt Helen had ever been here. And of course we are always delighted to see Patty again; the visits are always too short!
My mother was totally exhausted by the time the wedding was over. I think it was more from trying to get the Jacksons all properly organized and put together as from anything else; last week I told you how she was so concerned about the food; this week it was the Jackson men’s white shirts and the Jackson girls’ hosiery that was causing all the anxiety. Oh, and we mustn’t forget the McDonald girls’ pillows! And sheets. And blankets. And did we have enough towels? What about washcloths? Soap? And on and on. And, just in case you are wondering, no, my mother has not gotten that way with age. My mother was always that way.
Well, wonder of wonders, Bobby and Hannah actually wound up wed, with no major calamities… The fact is, there was enough cake to go around, nobody got shorted on sandwiches, the ice cream arrived at the tables still in its properly frozen state, the mints were fine and dandy (as wedding mints invariably are), and the tornado clouds were kind enough to actually break apart and let the sun beam down, just long enough for the photographer to take Bobby and Hannah’s picture outside, next to their car--Hannah’s Camry--Sunday afternoon.
Monday evening, Kitty spoiled the day by bringing home a baby bunny she had caught. Aarrgghh. Why must we always raise such cannibals??! Well, we do save on Purina… Aarrgghh.
Jennifer and Sarah left at about a quarter till nine Tuesday morning. They had a long day’s drive ahead of them--and a long day’s drive the next day, too. As soon as we had seen them safely off, Larry and I went to the Platte County Title and Escrow Company, where we signed all the papers to sell the shop. The lady took the papers, gave us our copy, and handed over a check for the amount left over after the bank was paid off. And that was that. A done deal.
We rushed back home, so Larry could take Dorcas to a doctor in David City. When we walked in, we found her crying, wondering why she had to hurt her knee right when she’d just gotten this job she was so pleased to get…
“Well, Dorcas,” I said to her, “of course we don’t always know the answer to such things, but at least you can be thankful that you live in a time when most injuries such as this can be fixed! And be glad it didn’t happen before the wedding.”
She made a successful effort to recover herself, and nodded in agreement.
When they returned, Larry told me that the X-rays had shown that nothing was broken, nothing was out of place; but it was a bad twist, and perhaps she had torn the cartilage under the kneecap. Since she already had an appointment Thursday to see our family doctor for her physical (All About Kids Daycare required it), we would then get his opinion about her knee.
The money Hester had been given for her birthday had been burning a hole in her pocket every since she received it, way back on the eighth. So we took our proliferation of film to Wal-Mart and then went to Sapp Bros. Gift Shop to look for something for Hester to spend her birthday money on. She chose a puppy made of rabbit fur.
Upon arriving home, she walked into the living room and placed it on Dorcas’ lap--and Dorcas nearly jumped out of her skin, for the puppy was looking right straight at her, and it looks mighty real, it sho’ ’nuff does!
Wednesday I started doing bookwork, delayed for three months by the rapidly advancing wedding. It took three days to get it all completed. I was happy to finally close the ledger on up-to-date bookwork Friday night.
Thursday morning Larry took Dorcas to David City again; Dr. Luckey looked at the knee this time. He recommended that we have the bone specialist in Columbus look at it; he’s afraid, as was the first doctor, that cartilage is torn. It will heal, but with sharp edges that, five years from now, will cause trouble. So, if the cartilage is torn, it’s best to have orthoscopic or something-or-other-scopic surgery done on it now, rather than later. Dr. Luckey made an appointment with Dr. Cimpl for us for 2:15 Friday.
That afternoon we went to Sumner, a little town out in the Sandhills, to extract money from somebody who owed us--an operation might similar to pulling hens’ teeth--and then we went on to another little town, Ansley, to get a title from a man named Doug Stuencle. Larry, when he first met this man, not realizing that the town was named Ansley, thought Doug’s last name was Ansley, because he was the owner of Ansley Motor Company. Then he learnt what the man’s name really was: Stuencle. He told it to me. Stuencle, pronounced “Stunkle”.
I made a face. “Just go on calling him ‘Doug Ansley’, why don’t you,” I advised. hee hee Poor Doug.
Caleb and Victoria went with us; the others stayed home. Somewhere near Kearney, we got ourselves some supper: one large piece of sausage pizza each, a package of Fig Newtons, and Old Home individual blueberry pies. North of Kearney it started to rain, and the clouds began looking ominous. We turned on the radio and discovered that, just north of Johnson Lake, there was a very bad storm. There were winds up to 80 mph and golfball- to baseball-sized hail. Fortunately, we had already turned north, and were able to miss it. After leaving Ansley (or should we call that town ‘Stuencle’?), we took a northerly route home, going first to Broken Bow, then east toward home, in order to avoid the storm loitering threateningly just to the south of us.
At Sumner, I might have gotten tired of sitting in the Suburban waiting…and waiting…and waiting…while Larry was shooting the breeze with the man at the salvage yard (there is always much about which to converse, at salvage yards), but Caleb and Victoria kept me well entertained, pretending there was a tornado coming. They sat on the edges of their seats moving their legs up and down in rhythmic motions as if they were going down stairs. Then they both dived onto the floor, making the proper noise for the tornado sirens--at least, until they giggled so hard they didn’t sound much like sirens anymore.
“Little fingers are dropping down!” Caleb remarked in an alarmed tone.
Victoria looked into his face for a time, perhaps trying to discern if he, in fact, meant it; or if it was still part of the game. Then she queried, “Do tornadoes have arms, too, to go with their fingers?”
After a little while, they popped back up again, informing the other, “The tornado is over! We’ve got to get busy!” (Do I say that?)
At Ansley Motor Company, I once again practiced my Sitting In The Car With Nothing To Do Technique and Skill (well, I did have something to do, after all ;~) ---I wrote funny remarks heard from the back seat onto deposit slips in my checkbook); and this time I heard Victoria say to Caleb, as she handed him some barrettes, “Could you put these clips in?”
Caleb looked at them, resting in his palm. “Sure,” he replied, “but I’m gonna look kinda funny.” And, so saying, he fastened them into his own hair.
“Oh, no!” cried Victoria, giggling. “Hee hee hee! Men don’t wear barrettes! tee hee hee.”
We got home at midnight--and we immediately noted evidence of spent fireworks in the front lawn and driveway. Those boys! I knew what a certain Teddy and Joseph would be doing the next day, and it involved a little manual labor with a broom and dustpan.
Friday afternoon I learned, when it was almost too late to get Dorcas there on time, that we were to meet Dr. Cimpl in David City, rather than in Columbus, as I had thought; and I would be taking her there, rather than Larry, as I had thought. I had exactly half an hour to get there, and nobody was ready. It is 35 miles to David City. I jerked a comb through Caleb and Victoria’s hair while Hester and Lydia combed theirs, shoved my feet into my sandals, fastened on my belt, picked up my purse and my coffee, took Victoria’s hand, and headed out the door.
And then, just what I’d been afraid of, happened: I was helping Victoria into the Suburban, when the daunting combination of garage steps and crutches somehow caused Dorcas to trip, and she fell down the steps.
She crashed against the Suburban, and then fell to the floor, hurting not only her knee, but also her back. Oh, dear, I felt so awful… Poor Dorcas, I can’t help her much; she’s bigger than me. Furthermore, there was not a soul around to help. I was so anxious about Dorcas’ knee, and all things considered were so upsetting, I wanted to burst into tears…in fact, I was mighty close to doing just that; but if I had’ve, I knew I would have a whole Suburban-load of kids weeping right along with me. I wanted to throw things (helps a person keep from bawling and blubbering, it does). I wanted to kick the Suburban good and proper. But that wouldn’t do any good.
"It's okay, I can get up," Dorcas assured me.
She managed to pull herself to her feet and get into the passenger seat in the Suburban. The littles and I climbed in, too, and I backed out of the garage. In all the turmoil, I forgot my purse and coffee in the house. (Forgetting the coffee was by far the worse of the two.)
“Did you hurt your knee very bad?” I asked Dorcas.
“Yes,” she answered, face white as a sheet, “but I think I hurt my back more.”
By the time we got to David City, she’d revised her opinion: it was the knee she’d hurt the worst.
Upon arrival at the clinic, we discovered that the doctor we would be seeing was not Dr. Cimpl after all; it was his associate, Dr. Connelly. Furthermore, Dr. Luckey was not even in the office that afternoon. Dr. Connelly’s diagnosis agreed with both Dr. Witter’s and also Dr. Luckey’s: Dorcas had most likely torn cartilage under the kneecap. He gave us our options, and I decided we would have surgery done on Dorcas’ knee Monday morning.
I tell you, doctors need to take courses on how to more gently examine their patients. And they need to have the lesson given them by none other than Dr. Luckey himself, who is the gentlest, carefullest (my ’puter tells me that is not a word) (but it sho’ ’nuff ought to be) doctor I’ve ever known. Furthermore, he comes up with the right diagnosis almost every single time, and certainly more often than other doctors we’ve known--and that, without prodding and probing until you are in worse shape than you were when you went there. That doctor we saw last was a personable man, and he might be a bone specialist, and he might indeed be a whiz-bang at performing surgeries; but it has not once ever entered his bone-headed cranium that his patients can actually feel things--including pain. He poked about on Dorcas’ knee, bending her leg, and turning it this way and that, until it was much sorer at the end of the examination than at the beginning.
We planned the surgery for 6:30 a.m. Monday morning, and we must arrive by 4:30 a.m.--only four and a half hours from the time it is right now, as I type. That is the day before her eighteenth birthday; too bad, poor girl.
The visit to the clinic and the checking in at the hospital were nearly over, and I was still wanting to throw things, especially when the lady who was writing down all the vital statistics (such as “How many ears do you have? How many ears have you had in the past? Have you ever had your ears surgically removed or replaced? For what purpose do you actually use said ears for? Do you like halibut on rye?”) said to me, after informing me for approximately the umpteenth time that Dorcas would not be able to eat anything after midnight Sunday night, (and this is word for word what she said) “You’re looking at me kind of blank. Are you sure you’re with me?” She blinked her eyes and click-clicked her tongue at me, and I momentarily wondered if she expected me to coo. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Blank?! I was anything but blank. Why, even as she spoke, my brain was busily contemplating at least three topics that were entire poles apart, including the subject matter she was so meticulously analyzing for me. I wondered if she would jump if, as I went on smiling at her and nodding my head, rather like one of those head-bobbing poodles people put in the back window of their car, I suddenly kicked her sharply in the shins under her laminated-wood desk. Luckily, the very thought struck me funny, and I wound up grinning at her, a genuine grin for the first time since a quarter till two.
“Yes, that’s fine,” I said, still grinning, and she upped her own friendliness level by a good ten points.
It’s amazing what a nice smile can do. Once that smile (even though it was originally an evil grin) caused her attitude toward me to improve, my own disposition improved, too.
We were soon done with that, and on our way home. A little while later, Norma brought us five cans of wheat biscuits that Danielle (Lawrence’s granddaughter) had bought on sale for 5¢ each.
Thursday, Dorcas had mistakenly told a cousin that she was going to have surgery Friday, so he bought a lovely bouquet in a pretty little mug, with a colorful Mylar balloon floating above it--and then took it all the way to David City. When he arrived, he noted that there were no cars in the parking area from Columbus; so, leaving the flowers in his car, he walked in and asked about Dorcas. Learning that we were already gone, and the surgery would not be until Monday morning, he drove back to Columbus and came to our house with the bouquet. Dorcas was quite pleased, and Andrew was not at all put out by the unnecessary drive he’d made. Andrew, who was in the same grade as Dorcas, has had the same sort of surgery done on his knee. He is quite a sympathetic boy; we all really like him. He has proven many times to be a kind and generous friend. He’s the one who bought Caleb that cute little black and silver bike last year; do you remember?
Not long afterwards, Lawrence and Norma came, bringing Dorcas a dozen fragrant red roses.
Hester fixed the supper that evening--Philly steak pockets, peas, and jello--while I finished the bookwork. Finally!
In this household, children learn how to do the wash just as soon as they can reach the knobs on the washer and dryer. But I am doing all the wash now, since Hannah’s gone, Dorcas is out of commission, the boys are at the shop all day, and Hester has a penchant for washing a brand-new pair of Wranglers with a brand-new white Sunday shirt. Guess what: nobody’s clothes are getting lost; socks find their mates quickly; everything smells fresh as a daisy; and there is rarely a pile of clothes larger than two loads at the bottom of the clothes chute. (!) Maybe I’ll keep right on doing it…
When supper was over, Teddy and Joseph went to play tennis at Pawnee Park with several of their friends. The more they play the game, the more they enjoy it. I think I have played tennis only twice in my life… the point of the game is to hit the ball with all your might and main, and see how far afield your opponent has to run to track it down, isn’t that correct? “Home run!” Well, that’s how I did it, anyway. Soon… I shall borrow one of the boys’ rackets, and see if age has improved technique.
One of our neighbors gave the littles a nice wading pool.
“Now we can really go swimming!” exclaimed Victoria in delight.
About dusk, Dave and several of his friends, his girlfriend, and her little boy Tatum were lighting off fireworks. Our littles went down to watch. Soon Dave was offering them sparklers and little poppers. They were ever so delighted, and thanked him many times. It's sure nice to have good neighbors.
Late Friday night, the honeymooners returned from their trip to Colorado. We were glad to have them home again, safe and sound.
Bobby and Hannah came visiting Saturday afternoon. Hannah told Dorcas, “Here’s something for you to take to the hospital Monday,” and handed her a little stuffed bear holding a honey pot--and he has honey dripping all over his head and paws.
The wedding proofs were back that day, and Hannah brought them for us to see. They turned out very nice; I hope my snapshots are good… When Tad heard Hannah’s voice in the house, he rushed, meowing, to greet her, mrroowwing for her to pick him up. She did so, and he purred loudly.
Teddy and Joseph filled the ‘new’ wading pool with water, and Victoria got all wet--and cold. Freezing cold. So she had to be dried off and dressed in dry clothes quickly... Those boys! They spent some of their hard-earned money on a few more fireworks, and were entertaining their siblings by putting firecrackers under large nut cans to see how far into the stratosphere they would fly. (Speaking of the cans, not the siblings…) (Although the siblings did fly into the air, once or twice, at the deafening explosions of a few of the larger fireworks…) All around town, fireworks are going off, and impressive pyrotechnics are brightening the night skies. Quite a cacophony!
Bethany, Bobby's mother, sent his sister Esther home with Bobby and Hannah to help put things away at their house. Hannah might have rather done it all herself, but Hester and Lydia, upon learning that Esther was going to help in this enterprise, immediately decided that they should do so, also. I let them go, since Hannah said if would be okay, telling her, "Just inform them that their mother wants them to come home, as soon as you are tired of all their 'helpfulness'."
Later, she had to admit, they had actually gotten quite a bit more put away than if she would have been doing it all on her own. And of course those three girls had quite a merry ball.
Today Keith and Esther came for dinner--potato/onion/vegetable/bacon soup, lettuce salad, fruit salad with strawberry yogurt, whole wheat biscuits, and chocolate chip ice cream.
And tonight after church, Bobby and Hannah came for leftovers. Well, perhaps that’s not exactly what they came for; but that’s what they got. And now, I had better bring this post to a close…I am debating: shall I just stay up until it’s time to go--an easy enough job, for a night owl like me; or shall I go to bed, sleep two hours, and get up again, making myself feel like a wringer-wrung rag?
Poor Dorcas. I feel so bad about her poor knee. I do hope they can repair it properly.
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