Читать книгу Every Man for Himself - Mark J. Hannon - Страница 25

CHAPTER 21

NORTH BUFFALO, 1944

Eileen turned up the aisle where the canned fruit was. It was winter, and decent fresh peaches and pears were not to be had. She had waited until school was out so Timmy could come with her, over to the A&P market on Hertel. The boy would’ve insisted on coming, anyway. He kept a hand on her shopping cart, just like he did when she first took him out of the baby’s seat, but now, the teenager would occasionally pull or push the cart to avoid a stack of boxes, or another cart she hadn’t noticed. Charley and Pat called him a momma’s boy, but he was a great comfort to her and very helpful, especially when it came to reading labels she couldn’t seem to make out anymore.

Stopping the cart and reaching for a can of Ann Page pears, she suddenly felt dizzy and spun around the cart, her left hand holding on. Crashing into the stacked cans on the shelves, she collapsed onto the floor between the cart and the shelves, cans tumbling about her. She heard the metal cans rolling around, Timmy yelling, “Mom!” and other shoppers saying, “Oh my goodness!” and “What’s wrong with her?” But it seemed like she was watching a movie and wasn’t really there at all.

She laid her head down on the floor, thinking a wee nap was all she needed, and then reached out for the boy she could barely see when she heard him crying. She remembered hearing Tim reciting Joe’s phone number at work to someone, and that was all, until she woke up at St. Francis.

There was a doctor in a white coat with a stethoscope around his neck and Dr. Butler, who had taken over Dr. Ryan’s practice, on one side of the bed. Dr. Butler was in a nice tweed coat and striped tie. Joe was there with them. My, but Joe has red eyes today, she thought, I wonder if he slept well last night.

On the other side of the bed, all the children were lined up, staring at her, except for Charley, who was drumming his fingers on the bed rail and tapping his feet. She reached up to touch his hand and said, “Don’t fidget so, son,” which got sighs of relief from all around.

The doctor in the white coat called for a nurse and said, “The medicine’s taking effect now. We’ll sit her up in a minute and see how she’s feeling.” When the nurse came in, she and Dr. Butler helped Eileen sit up and propped some fine, fluffy pillows that smelled of bleach behind her.

“My, but that’s a fine jacket, Doctor. We’ll have to be calling you ‘squire’ now with such clothes.”

Chuckles went around the bed, and the white-coated doctor shined a light in her eyes, then stood back and spoke.

“Mrs. Brogan, I’m afraid you have diabetes. You’ve no doubt had it for some time, but now it has become acute.”

Confused, Eileen shook her head and blinked several times.

Joe stepped between the doctor and his wife, and took her hand in both his. “It’s going to be all right,” and with a glance at Dr. Butler, “We’re going to take care of you.”