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Later, in the doctors
office I was waiting for his opinion and advice. He was in his chair with
long legs stretched out. His head was almost down on his chest. and
without moving his body he turned to look directly at me.
“You have a problem.” His
words were to the point as I knew he would be.
“If there is a doctor
closer to your home let me work with him and let’s try to get this under
control.”
Evidently my doctor in
Oklahoma City had time to think and he sent me to a doctor who was
Catholic. I wasn’t of that faith but my mother’s whole family was so I
knew well they did not support abortion. It was a fine decision on the
part of my doctor and maybe the one in Dallas. My confidence in his
decision making ability didn’t disappoint me but I knew this because of
the way he had taken care of Mark’s delivery. Some decisions involve
issues to deal with the heart.
I was listening with
appreciation to the doctor at Mercy in Oklahoma City who spoke to me now.
“At the rate this tumor is
growing you must have it out. The thing will simply grow so large it will
endanger your life and your child’s, too. This statement made me know he
knew of what he spoke.
The day came for the
surgery and it was through great emotional tribulation I had suffered. My
other children, Rhonda and Mark possibly being left without a mother was
ever on my mind. The thought of losing this child through the surgery I
had to face during this fourth month of pregnancy. As my doctor in Dallas
had pointed out, “the arteries that are maybe pencil size become engorged
and are the size, larger than my thumb.” He held up his large hand and
thumb to demonstrate the cylindrical magnitude of their shape.
“Bleeding then becomes a
major issue.” He was warning me.
With my stance on the
commitment and former dedication I had made for not using blood or
breaking into the principles of The Ancient of Days regarding a
carelessness for spilling of blood, surgery then became a risk. The
doctors were well aware of this. During these years the laser surgery with
cauterizing tools for cutting was not in use. Uncontrolled Bleeding was a
distinct possibility. I wasn’t alone in my decision at the time. Who knows
how many others had been enlightened to the dangers of diseases
transmitted through blood transfusions and were taking similar stands
against it. The blood itself is more individually and singularly,
distinctly unique than even the fingerprint. As the study of genetics and
the DNA are coming there is absolutely no clue for the great possibilities
involved here regarding disease of all ranges even up and onto such as
Alzheimer’s and more. Only the utmost faith and belief in one’s dedication
to fidelity for a service to the greater needs of humanity could bind a
person to hold to this pledge which was itself a dance with death.
“Who did I think I was?
Joan of Arc?” I later laughed about it, when, actually, it wasn’t funny.
True my Indian name was Jeanne, but certainly not, “D’Arc.
The doctor stood beside me
and the operating table. It was almost as if I could read his deepest
thoughts as he was going into this risky operation.
“Please doctor Pollack,
save my baby. Please don’t hurt my baby.”
As if the words somehow
strengthened him, he set his jaw, looked straight ahead and nodded in a
determined way. The anesthesia dropped me instantly away from
consciousness.
Bit by bit, as if working
through a disagreeable chore overcoming the surgery was possible. Doctor
was now standing beside my bed.
“I removed the tumor, it
was large, about the size of a small watermelon. You would never have been
able to carry your child with it growing at the rate it was. I had to cut
into it because part of it was attached to the pregnant uterus. I left a
piece about the size of a lemon and stitched it up. Because I had to cut
into it these cells have been spilled into your system. The rest of your
life will be different. You will always have to cope with this. I would
live to understand his words.
When I was released from
Mercy hospital at Oklahoma City, Rodney brought the children with him from
Ponca City, a little over 100 miles away, to take me home. I left behind a
painting for the doctor and hospital. It was of a tall, giant tree taken
from a picture I had snapped of the huge old Pen Oak trees out of Dallas.
Children were playing under its shade in a peaceful way. I had spent my
entire pregnancy working on the painting and believed it belonged with the
people who had saved my life. The sun was shining brightly. I was alive
and here with my easy going Rodney and our children.
“I just can’t get enough
looking at this world. How beautiful everything is. Every tree, every
person I see, even the movement of the wind through the tops of the trees
is vibrant with life. There is such a strength in these things I don’t
think I’ve ever fully appreciated them before.
Rodney must have been at
the end of his rope with the children and snapped a warning to quiet them.
“Please don’t spoil this
for me, I’m so happy to be going home.” Mark seemed to be the one to
understand and with his arms resting on the back of the seat behind me, he
was instantly quiet and looking straight ahead out the car window. |
