A Family For Jana. Eileen Berger

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      Her mind kept wandering; she so wanted to be with Michael, to hold him and sing to him and calm him if he was frightened or lonely. She did manage to drag her thoughts back fairly quickly each time—but it was taking more and more effort to squelch her eagerness to leave.

      Class was eventually over, and she drove to the hospital to find Michael no longer lying listlessly against the high-tilted mattress. He was sitting up in bed, and his face became one big smile. “Mama, you’re back!”

      “Yes, sweetie, I sure am, and I plan to stay.” She made sure he saw her place her books on his dresser before going to him. “I came as quickly as I possibly could.”

      She pulled away as he shoved a small stuffed raccoon into her face. “Look, Mama, Aunt Vanessa brought him, and his name is Raccie.”

      She hugged and kissed Michael, which also gave her the opportunity to make sure he didn’t have an elevated temperature along with his wheezing. “That’s a perfect name for him! Did you think of it all by yourself?”

      “Uh-huh,” he said, beaming with pride. “I think lots of things all by myself.”

      Her knuckles brushed lightly along his jawline. “You certainly do, and that makes me happy.” After lowering the side rail, she sat on the side of his bed. “And now I want to hear all about your morning—what you saw and who you talked with and everything.”

      He rattled on about the nurses, a funny TV cartoon, his Aunt Vanessa, who was actually Gram’s granddaughter, the raccoon and Gram’s phoning while Vanessa was there, saying she’d be coming soon. Jana encouraged his enthusiastic report, rejoicing in his communication skills even while being very aware of his continuing cough and breathing difficulties.

      At least neither was as bad as before.

      It was some time later that she stood up and, walking toward the door, laid her hand on the books. “I’m leaving my stuff here, Michael, while I go down the hall to talk with one of the nurses.”

      His little arms reached toward her. “Don’t go, Mama.”

      “I’ll be right back, dear.”

      His face began to pucker. “Stay with me.”

      She wanted to gather him into her arms, but instead stood there smiling, praying that her manner and voice would reassure him. “I promise to come back very, very soon, Michael.”

      A tear formed in each eye. “Last time was a long time.”

      “I know, Michael—but remember I told you then that I must go to school and I would be gone quite a while—and I was. And this time I’m saying it will be just a little while, okay?”

      His lower lip protruded, but she grinned, quickly walked over to put up the bed rail and left immediately, saying cheerfully, “See you in a tiny little bit, my love.”

      She did not turn back when he cried, “Mama, come back, come back!” She leaned against the wall and waited to make sure his starting to cough harder didn’t make his wheezing more serious.

      “Something wrong, Miss Jenson?” It was one of the older cleaning ladies. “Something wrong with that dear little boy of yours?”

      Maybe I’m what’s wrong. Jana glanced at the woman’s name tag before whispering, “I just got back from my classes, Sandra, and need to speak with Michael’s nurse—but he doesn’t want me to leave.”

      A big smile covered the woman’s round face, and her hand on Jana’s waist gave a light shove. “We talked a whole lot while I was cleaning his room, so I’m gonna go in there and visit with that little cutie. We’ll make out fine.” She then walked inside, saying, “Hi, Michael. What have you and Raccie been doing since I left?”

      Jana smiled with relief as she heard her son answer the question. There are so many wonderful people in Your world, God! Thanks for letting me get to know that—for letting me know them. And help me not to forget to help others….

      She spoke first with the secretary, and was even more grateful for Sandra’s being with Michael as she waited several minutes to talk with the nurse. Margery Caldwell appeared harried, but did say that Michael was doing “as well as can be expected at this time.” Nobody had any idea yet when he might go home, certainly not today—but she assured Jana he was over the worst of the attack.

      When Jana returned to Michael’s room, Sandra bent over to kiss his cheek. “See, big guy? Your mom’s returned real quick, like she said—and now I’d better get back to my job before I get in trouble.” On the way to the door she took time to add, “And you, Ms. Jenson, don’t worry so much. We’re here to help take care of your little boy.”

      “Thanks, Sandra.” Jana reached out to squeeze her hand. “You have no idea how comforting it is to know that.” She put down the side rail and sat on Michael’s bed again as she told him the nurse said he was better.

      “Yep.” He nodded. “Better.”

      She touched his chest. “Does it hurt here?”

      He shook his head. “Nope.”

      “Did it hurt?”

      “Yep.”

      “Where did you hurt?”

      “Here!” His fingertips beat a brief tattoo on his chest, then moved to his throat. “And here.”

      The wheezing. And coughing. “Well, since they’re both better now, would you like to get out of bed?”

      He was instantly slithering around her, legs already over the edge of the bed as she grabbed him. “Michael, wait a second! Look down there—how far it is to the floor. This is a high bed, not like yours at home with its short legs.”

      She convinced him to sit while she got his pajamas and bunny slippers from the bag she’d brought with her. “And as soon as you go to the bathroom, and change out of that gown and into these clothes, we’ll walk in the hall.”

      He was so overjoyed at this prospect that it was difficult to keep him still long enough to slide his legs into the pants and his feet into slippers. She held him as he tugged to run down the hallway. Remembering how very sick he’d been during the night, she wasn’t sure how much energy he should be expending.

      At the end of the corridor, she lifted him so he could look out the window. “What do you see, Michael?”

      “Oh, trees and grass and sidewalks and men and women and cars and streets and a dog….” It was a singsong reply, with all nouns emphasized. “And clouds and shadows and birds and branches—I see lots of things.”

      “Yes, dear, you certainly do see lots of things, and I’m glad you showed them to me. I had not even noticed those shadows.” After all, she and Michael were on the fourth floor.

      “Lots of shadows—the big, big one’s from the ho’pital, and the littler ones are from trees—but it’s hard seein’ people shadows.”

      It seems to me that these are astute observations my three-year-old СКАЧАТЬ