Untitled

Chapter Twenty Eight

Lisa was awakened early Saturday morning by the sound of rain beating against her bedroom window. Her first thoughts were of Tim. For a minute she allowed herself a few minutes to indulge in self-pity over the events of the previous night, but then she realized there was a positive side. "You cannot realize your self worth unless you are willing to take risks," she remembered the doctor saying. 'I took a chance with Tim and it was worth it, now at least I know.' she said to herself.
Her self-esteem partially revived, she decided not to burden Mama with her problem. She needed some time to herself to think things through. However, Mama was more perceptive than Lisa gave her credit for. She detected that something was wrong as soon as Lisa peeked her head in the bedroom. "Come, get covered up in bed here with your Mama honey and tell me what's wrong. Coffee's on and will be ready in a bit."
"Mama, you know how I feel about Tim," she whined, climbing under the covers. "Well, things didn't go that good last night. I'm OK now though, really," she said reassuringly. Mama smiled confidently as if she possessed a prophetic insight that, whatever the problem was, it would be resolved. Lisa smiled gratefully because of Mama's willingness to drop the matter without contest.

In this moment, it suddenly dawned on her that during the past two weeks a change had been coming over her mother. She seemed to have developed an introspective awareness and wisdom. And strangely, there was a peaceful aura about her. Even her physical pain had subsided. And when playing with Sissy's kids she displayed a special angelic-like demeanor. Sissy, Jake, and the kids noticed it, too. And again this morning Lisa found herself observing an almost distant, peaceful, serene look in her mother's eyes. But she made little of it. She was just glad Mama was happy and comfortable.
"Honey," said Mama, staring lovingly at her daughter, while running
her fingers through her hair as she had so often done many years ago. "I got something I wanna give ya." She reached from under her pillow and removed a gold antique locket with a gold chain. "This belonged to your great grandma who passed it down to your grandma who passed it down me. And now I want you to have it." Lisa gave Mama a questioning stare. Reading a light note of concern in her daughter's eyes, Mama said, "Don't worry about Sissy honey. You was the first born ya know, and I already gave Sissy something."
"Oh Mama, it's beautiful. It's the most beautiful thing I ever did see."
"Take a look inside," said mama pointing to the little clasp that held it shut. Lisa opened the locket. In one side there was a picture of her mother and on the other a picture of her father. The sight of seeing them together like that, younger, like she remembered, brought mixed feelings of grief and joy.
She impulsively threw her arms around her mother's neck. "Mama, I love you so much."
"And I love you too, dear, more than you can ever know."
Lisa admired the locket again saying to herself, 'Imagine that, this locket belonged to my great grandmother, and someday it's going to belong to my little girl.' She put it around her neck where it would stay for a long time.
"I got something else to give ya too. Go on over there and open up my closet door." Lisa followed her mother's instructions. "Now ya see those notebooks up on the shelf there?"
"Yes," replied Lisa, pointing to a row of four, thin, loose-leaf notebooks on the top shelf.
"When Daddy was in the hospital getten well after the war he started keepen a diary. It started out that he was only gonna write about his time in the hospital and experiences in Korea. But he kept it up after that, saying he was gonna write a book some day."
Lisa reached up and ran her fingers across the exposed backs of the binders, which were dated and titled, "Memoirs of David Simmon." Her heartbeat skipped with excitement as she did this.
"I'm the one who put em in those books like that after he died. I used to read in em sometimes too."
Lisa removed the first book from the shelf, hopped back in bed and thumbed the pages while Mama continued to talk. Mama was delighted with her daughter's response and most of all glad to have helped her get Tim off her mind.

"Like I told you before, honey, I see daddy in my dreams so much that that's all I need anymore. He always comes and it's as real as you sitting here, just like you are."
Lisa was happy for her mother but, forgetting what Doc Summers had said about communicating with his deceased wife, passed Mama's dreams off as extended wishful thinking. Right now she was occupied with flipping through pages of her father's diary.
Noticing Lisa's lack of interest in talking about dreams, Mama scooted back, propped up against her pillows and watched; a smile on her face, joy in her heart. Most of that day and snuggle time in the evening was spent reminiscing. Lisa had dismissed her issue with Tim.
With a kiss on the forehead, Lisa left her sleepy-eyed mother and stepped outside to enjoy the fresh night air. She walked over to the old weeping willow tree and slipped her legs through the center of the automobile tire swing that Daddy put up over twenty-six years ago.
She sat there running her hands over the surface of the tire. It was worn smooth from the hands and clothing of two sisters who spent countless hours, swinging, pushing each other and taking turns. Now that surface is kept smooth by the small hands of two children her little sister had brought into the world.
'So long ago,' thought Lisa, as she began singing "Amazing Grace." She choked with emotion when singing the words, "I was lost but now I am found," but continued singing. Far out of range of the nearest neighbor, her song filled the otherwise still night. Inside, Mama having finally found her peace, contentedly listened. Then she closed her sleepy eyes to await her husband.

After breakfast and visit time with her mother the following morning, Lisa transformed herself into pretzel position on the couch and started reading Daddy's diary. The sound of rain pelting the roof and whipping at the side of the house served to be relaxing. She started on page one of the first book.

Entry One, 10-7-1953. Laying in this hospital bed, barely able to move, I feel so helpless. To be totally dependent on others for your needs is torment beyond description. One would have to experience it to know. But I thank God, that now after four months of vegetating I can at least hold a pen and write. I tell others, and try to behave as though I don't feel sorry for myself. This is untrue, I fight self-pity everyday. I yearn to see Mary Jo, but can't yet. And I have such mixed emotions. I see the broken bodies of young boys all around me. Some have missing limbs and some are in various states of post-conflict syndrome, (mentally debilitated). The broken-hearted faces of their families and sweethearts are tragic.
I feel guilty because of an apathetic attitude that sometimes comes to posses me. My sense of compassion becomes dulled by reason of my own depression.

Entry Two, 10-21-1953. It hurts to write. It's really a strain so I only do a little at a time. Most of the nurses, aides and doctors around here are gentle, caring and compassionate. However, there are those who are not. My observation is that these people have a need to put on an air of superiority and delight in controlling a patient's destiny at the expense of his desires, feelings, and dignity. They seem to be acting out their personal frustrations on us patients. I swear that I'd detected some of them actually get satisfaction out of a gloomy situation. I've also seen them pick on subordinate staff members, too.
One such guy, Dr. Humphery, just left my bedside. Today I was feeling a little better about myself because, through exercising, I was gaining strength in my right arm allowing me to pick up and hold a book. Dr. Humphery gave me a hands-on examination and said he had been monitoring my x-rays. After briefly discussing my condition, he looked down at me, put his hands on his hips and bluntly said, "Mr. Simmon, you will never walk again, and the sooner you get the idea out of your head the better off you'll be." I was inflamed with mixed feelings of anger, self-pity and hate. "The hell with you," I yelled back. He promptly turned and left. I guess in his own twisted way he thinks he's doing the right thing.
I'm drawn to my memories of basic training camp, officers' training, and my time in Korea. There were officers at various levels whom I came in contact with or knew of that arbitrarily degraded, humiliated and even punished soldiers for reasons unjustified. They presumably had a compulsion to inflate their own egos to the detriment of others. I guess you're going to find these kind of people most everywhere you go. This hospital is no exception.

Lisa thought about Tim. She drew a mental parallel between he and Dr. Humphery. She read through the next few entries. Her attention was again captured by the mention of Dr. Humphery.

Entry Seven, 11-1-1953. I have a new doctor now. His name is Dr. Leonard Bernstein. He's quite the opposite of Humphery. He sits on the edge of my bed and speaks in a kindly manner. On his first visit he explained that the odds were not in my favor at this time. There are pieces of shrapnel resting against my spinal column. They're mostly located in my lower back with some in the upper area. These little pieces of metal are pressed against my spinal cord and have caused bruising and probably some cutting. According to him, the actual lines of demarcation are impossible to distinguish with only x-rays. He showed me the x-ray films.
The good news is, that his guess is that the swelling is going down. This has relieved some of the pressure allowing me to regain the feeling, strength and dexterity in my right hand and arm. He said the shrapnel was so dangerously positioned that an operation now could result in permanent paralysis. He did say not to give up hope, though. The shrapnel could conceivably move enough away from the spinal cord to allow him to operate. "It has happened before," he said. "And after surgery it is highly probable that extensive physical therapy would be required." He asked me if I would be willing to consider what some might call unorthodox healing techniques. "Of course," I said, with tongue-in-cheek hoping he wouldn't detect my doubt. "I thought so," he replied. He said he would be back tomorrow and that we would get started. I am up-lifted and excited.

Entry Eight, 11-2-1953. Dr. Bernstein arrived right on time. Even with a patient case load that has him working an inordinate number of hours, he clearly wants to help me and is willing to spend the necessary time. He got right to the point. Following is a recap of the notes, discussions and suggestions I received today. Also, Dr. Bernstein gave me some notes which I have incorporated.
"Do you believe in miracles?" he asked. Apparently recognizing that I was groping for an answer, he continued. "Well, we are going to have one. Providing, of course, that you agree to be an active participant in the process." I hesitated for a minute. To me, the idea of creating a miracle sounds preposterous. Before speaking another word he looked at me confidently yet sternly.
"I see you have a little Bible on your night stand there. Ever read it much?" "Why sure," I said, again with tongue-in-cheek. "Then you know that the teachings of Jesus are principally about love and healing. He performed, rather routinely, what we commonly define as miracles. I believe he did them so that we would understand and follow his example. Jesus identified himself as one with God, as well as all of us. He qualified this by saying such things as: 'I and My Father are one. I am in the Father and the Father in me, he doeth the works. That they all may be one; as the Father art in me and I in thee, that they also may be one in us. He that believeth on me, the works that I do he shall do also; and greater works than these shall he do.'
"David," he said, "that means we all are one with our in-dwelling God. Your mind, our minds, are one with and an extended, integral, part of God's mind. So, to put it simply, you can do the things that are spoken of by Jesus in that little Bible. That is if you can accept it as within the realm of possibility. I hope you can because it is upon this truth that we will build the foundation under which your healing plan will be based.
"I'm not a minister and don't mean to be giving you a sermon David. I just want you to consider these things because it is essential that you go into this with belief, faith and expecting results. I can't overemphasize the importance of these three basic, but important, fundamentals.
"David, I have been witness to miracles. I have seen spontaneous and permanent remissions of cancer and other terminal diseases. And I have seen miraculous recoveries from physical injury such as yours. A case that comes to mind involved a young Chicago police officer who was shot in the back and his spinal cord was partially severed. I know because I took the bullet out. He was paralyzed from the waist down. The doctors in the hospital, including me, all agreed that the damage was beyond repair and that he would never walk again. We were wrong. To everyone's amazement he did walk again. And he is still walking.
"When healings like this occur, most of us doctors just usually scratch our heads, accepting the fact that the phenomena took place, close our eyes, and go about our business. And the medical profession goes on studying diseases, their causes and how to cure them while ignoring spontaneous remissions and other so-called miracle healings.
"I hope someday we will concentrate more on the scientific reasons behind miracle healings and why some people recover faster than others. I personally believe that there is a spiritual as well as a scientific basis for them. Also, I am convinced that a person's attitude ties into both the scientific and the spiritual and influences recovery; or it can be the contrary. It is my position as a doctor and researcher that we should search out scientific reasons behind miraculous phenomena and apply any knowledge gained to facilitate healing. In parallel we should employ and trust the spiritual, GOD!!
"There is definitely an unseen healing life force at work. And it is that healing force that is the final determinate as to the extent of healing. It is with this life force that we begin."
Dr. Bernstein was sitting on the edge of my bed as he spoke. I could feel compassion and caringness radiating from him. And his eyes were steel gray and there was something unworldly mysterious about him, as though he was from another place and time.
While examining me he continued to speak. "I know that you already believe in this higher force. Because the force is God. One of my biggest problems in working with some people is that they have a hard time establishing a relationship with God. I try to tell them that, whether they like it or not, they already have a relationship with him. I usually clarify that with one simple statement. When people, regardless of the absence of religion in their lives, find their backs against the wall, what do they do? When a loved one is dying or they themselves are facing a life-threatening situation, what do they do? They go to God through prayer. Happens almost every time. When you were a child and needed help you went to a parent because you knew they were there. Same thing with God. It might be subconsciously, but you know Father God is there, and here, or you wouldn't try to communicate with him.
"Recognize that when our intent is pure, we can call upon this God force through the power of our minds and the emotion in our hearts. To begin the healing process it would be beneficial if you would think about and accept at least some of which I have thus far said, for it is important that you commit yourself, dedicate yourself fully to the process that I am going to teach you."
Dr. Bernstein was adamant and I nodded enthusiastically. Then he went on to say. "The first step is to embody the concept that you have the belief, desire, and faith that you can and will be healed. Invoke your will and expect results, without equivocation. One more quote from the Bible, if I may, before I go. 'With God, all things are possible.' Think about this and what I have said today and I'll see you tomorrow."
Dr. Bernstein left as quickly as he came. My head is spinning. I don't know what to think. All I know is that I am only twenty one years old and I'll be dammed if I am going to spend the rest of my life like this. I guess I'll do what the man says. I do miss my dear Mary Jo. I yearn to see her, hold her, talk to her.

Lisa had no idea her father had gone through such pain and suffering. He never talked about it. Relaxing her attention, she propped the notebook up against her knees. Her mind again drifted back to childhood times with him. 'He always did walk a little slow.'
Cherished memories flooded in. Like the secret walks in the woods they would take on Saturday mornings before anyone else was up, just the two of them. She had felt so special because she had his full attention as she galloped ahead through the woods. Without turning around she would yell out questions on various subjects and he would call forward the answers. Then they would stop and sit by the creek and talk.
'It felt so good inside,' she remembered. She smiled peacefully and her eyes closed to continue the daydream in quiescent slumber.