When the ambulance returned to Children’s Hospital, Mom and Dad were there. I fell into Mother’s arms and cried and cried. Then I was able to go back to Ricky’s room and spend the night, waking every two hours to help to turn him and his heavy, wet cast.
Those weeks of recovery were hard weeks. Dad was able to move Ricky better than any of us. He helped turn him in bed and later lifted him in and out of a wheel chair.
Mom helped keep the parents’ Day Room clean, besides sitting with Ricky so I could get away now and then. Dad started a macrame class for mothers there. When my parents left, that whole side of the hospital missed them.
When Ricky could be moved to a wheel chair, we took many, many walks through the halls—all of us taking turns at the pushing. Rhonda and Diane came with Dale to visit as often as they could.
Friends came from Sacramento and from the McClellan Chapel. Those visits made a welcome break in the hospital routine.
Dr. Robert Tyndall and his wife, Mildred, made special arrangements to come to the hospital while we were there. They had also visited us in Children’s Mercy Hospital in Kansas City. Bob is the head of Chaplaincy Services for the Disciples of Christ and headquartered in Indianapolis. It is nice to know that people care.
Sometimes I would begin to feel sorry for myself and ask Dale why he couldn’t come more or stay longer. Of course, someone had to earn a living, but when you are tired and emotionally drained, you don’t think too clearly.
The end of March we were all able to go home. It was nice while it lasted, but by Easter Ricky was in the hospital again. When he was well enough, there was school right at his bedside and there was occupational therapy. We drew pictures and made all sorts of things out of clay. We also did string art.
There was physical therapy. That wasn’t much fun, but it was necessary. He was regaining the use of his left hand again.
In the evening there were all kinds of games and movies and fun things to do. At Easter time, Minnie Mouse from Disneyland came to a party. There was even an Easter egg hunt. Ricky found several from his wheel chair. In fact, the hospital would have been a wonderful place to be if the children there weren’t so desperately ill.
After being home, I would hesitate to ask about children I didn’t see, for fear they had died while we were away, and many times that is just what had happened.
The 18-month-old boy in Ricky’s room died while we were there. That was hard on both of us.
“Mama, why doesn’t God make all of us well, especially the babies?”
“I really don’t know, Ricky. I wish I knew the answer.”
Chapter 13 to follow
