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The doctor and I, like the
old song, Nature Boy, by Nat King Cole, spoke of many things, fools and
kings. There was the sadness in his soul and I could see that same look
out of Rodney’s eyes. The conversation always came back to what decisions
we had to make for our child’s welfare.
“You know, If I didn’t have
my practice here I would pick up and go to Dallas. There, I believe, the
Dallas Society for Crippled Children is doing a better job as far as
therapy goes. Dallas also has a school for the handicapped called Carroll.
It is a place where a child can attend during the day just like regular
school. They have buses to pick the children up from all over the city but
you must live in Dallas proper, they tell me.”
I dutifully wrote the names
and addresses down and stuck them away for safe keeping.
Some years later I read in
the paper a doctor in Oklahoma City had committed suicide and tried to
kill his handicapped child at the same time. He died but the child lived.
I often wondered if it was the same doctor with whom I had shared time in
the waiting room. It bothered me that I had not tried to offer to help him
with his little girl but, on the other hand, he didn’t ask for any support
and I didn’t want to push in on his space and busy schedule if he didn’t
need me. These are the scars left on our hearts that will forever be with
us, I suppose. That was close to fifty years ago, but I still remember the
look out of his eyes and the hurt that seemed to rest on his shoulders.
On this particular morning
I was very depressed over the conditions at the hospital. We seemed to
have reached a plateau with Rhonda’s progress and, as usual, I was
thinking about the approaching time when she would need to start school.
National events played a
part in what happened as far as our resolve to move to Dallas. Rodney had
been working for The Federal Aviation Agency. He came home and was
uncharacteristically in an excited state of mind.
“Something bad is going on
and I don’t know what it is. There were secret service people all over the
place. They were getting planes ready for them to move out. Have you heard
anything?” He was looking intently at me because I’m sure my face and eyes
were swollen from crying.
"President Kennedy has been
shot. Its been on the television. It’s terrible.” For once I didn’t mind
having the television going all evening as we watched together what would
become recorded history. The nation was shocked into a paralyzed state and
the future would tell that it was a loss of innocence for that age. The
people we knew in Oklahoma City were quite shocked by the death of this
youthful president. I had never bothered that much about politics but the
horror of this made me feel so sad for his youthful widow’s loss.
Maybe the events struck a
note with Rodney, too, because it wasn’t long after that he came home with
the news that he had a job interview in Dallas with Texas Instruments and
wanted to know if I would like to go with him for a three day vacation.
I had been to Ft. Worth but
that was all. As we drove down the wide interstate into the magnificent
city of Dallas I fell in love with this metropolis. Whatever Rodney
decided job wise was okay with me as far as Dallas was concerned. and when
he got the job we sold the few things we had collected all but Gramma’s
oak table. This we took to Mom and Dad for safe keeping, all we had were
the clothes on our back and, of course, our vehicle. Because we knew
nothing about the city, we first moved to Oak Cliff. The small apartment
was fully furnished with only a water cooler for controlling the heat.
Because it was closer to where Rhonda’s therapy was the reason we had
chosen that location. There were good things and not so pleasant things to
learn.
My saving the addresses
given to me by the doctor came in very handy. I did call to tell him we
were in Dallas and he said I could mention his name as the person who
referred us to them.
This was the last time I
ever spoke with the man with whom I had formed a short friendship. |
