Jeff Waggoner, M.D.

HARRY’S FABLE—PART II

It didn’t take Harry long to forget about the red Chevy and start feeling good about having made the rational economic decision to buy the Toyota. The more he thought about it, the prouder he was of shopping, researching the market, and having enough patience to force Buddy, the owner of Golden Opportunity Truck and Auto Mega-mall, to lower the price of the Toyota by $500.

One day, Harry’s brother-in-law, Omar, drove by Honest Bob’s Used Trucks,20Cars, and Swing Sets to see what Harry had been so worked up about—the fire-engine-red Chevy he had almost bought. Whether Omar also fell in love with the Chevy’s mesmerizing shade of red or whether there were less noble emotions at play has been debated. What has not been debated is that he bought the truck and immediately drove by Harry’s house, honking the entire time. Harry’s wife, Hattie, had been on the front porch when her brother passed by. She hurried inside, hoping Harry had not seen her brother’s ugly twist of the knife. Harry was standing at the front window, staring vacantly at some far, distant spot. He had obviously seen Omar’s one truck parade.

Hattie started to say something but could only think of silly platitudes. She walked quietly into the kitchen, praying that her brother had been secretly adopted. The idea of sharing his genes made her want to puke.

She then furiously cooked up Harry’s favorite meal. Her efforts fell on deaf palates. Both Harry and her daughter, Harriett, ate no more than 1½ bites. Hattie had expected Harry’s lack of appetite, but Harriett had her worried. Hattie’s daughter was what might be called an exceedingly enthusiastic eater.

Before Hattie could even ask Harriett what was wrong, the child stood up and said, “Mom, my stomach hurts, really bad. And before you ask, let me add that I had a bowel movement this morning, I did not sneak into the C store and eat any of those milk chocolate super-bars, and I haven’t started my very first menstrual period. My stomach just ,...hurts …real bad.”

She then collapsed to the kitchen floor, grabbed her stomach and began rolling around. Tears streamed down her cheeks but rather than loudly groaning as she did when trying to stay out of school on the day of a test for which she had not studied, she simply whimpered softly.

“That girl is sick,” Harry said. “We’re taking her to the emergency room.”

Harriett shuddered. She knew Harry was right, but the fact that he had decided to go to the emergency room without even making a speech about the cost of health care frightened her.

The drive to the emergency room would have usually taken 50 minutes. Harry did it in 30. The Toyota whined and complained but Harry pushed it as hard as he could. Hattie held Harriett in her lap. When they arrived at the hospital, Harry raced to the passenger door and pulled Harriett from Hattie’s arms.

That was a good decision because it took Hattie 5 minutes to regain feeling in her legs. She decided that Harriett was perhaps too …mature …to ride on anyone’s lap.

Harry and Harriett were already in an exam room. That Harriett had been taken back before all the other patients in the packed waiting room added to Hattie’s fear. When she found her family, a doctor was bending over Harriett, moving his hands carefully over her abdomen. When he hit a certain spot, Harriett screamed in pain.

Hattie felt Nauseated. She looked at Harry. He stood in the corner of the exam room, his arms folded, his face wound tightly into a frown.

The doctor stepped back, frowning as well. “We will have to run some blood tests, but I’m sure we will have to do what’s called a helical CAT scan. I am very worried about appendicitis. In fact, I think her appendix may be about to rupture. If that happens …”

“Look Doc,” Harry said, “I’m gonna have to trust you. That’s just the way it is. You get going on whatever you have to do. Whatever needs to be done, you just do it.”

The doctor nodded and left the exam room. Harriett was curled into a ball. Hattie put her arms around Harriett’s shoulders and started to cry.

Harry moved from the corner of the room, around the bed and stood next to his wife. “Now, now, Momma. It’s gonna be just fine. This is a real good hospital with smart doctors. It’s gonna be just fine.”

The nurse drew blood and then a radiology technician took Harriett for the CAT scan. Harry and Hattie sat in the exam room, searching for the saf e harbor of a thought unrelated to their daughter’s illness.

“I wonder how much this is going to cost?” Hattie wondered aloud.

“Cost?” Harry’s voice sounded almost like a snarl. “Who the hell cares how much this is going to cost?”

Dr. Waggoner is a family practice specialist with Weisbrod Memorial Hospital in Eads, Colo.