Sugar House (9780991192519) (18 page)

"Just when I'm coughing," Joe said. His voice
was raspy.

"How long have you not been feeling
well?"

"A few days." he replied quietly, avoiding
his mother's eyes.

"Ahh… well it might be too early to tell but
I am sorry to say that I think he has acquired tuberculosis. He
will have to be sent to the sanitarium so as not to infect anyone
else."

Ojciec translated the doctor's words to
Matka.

"No," she told Ojciec. "I will care for him.
He is my son. I will not send him away when he is sick. Just last
week I saw a cure for tuberculosis in the Polish newspaper. It was
called… Eckmans Alternative. Yes, the advertisement said calcium
deficiency was responsible for the disease, and Eckmans contains
lime salt that can cure it. Mikołaj, you can go to the druggists
now and buy it. Joe will get better and he can stay here with
us."

Mikołaj translated for Dr. Levy, although Joe
was sure the doctor already understood Matka's argument.

Dr. Levy smiled at Matka. "Those medicines
don't work; Mr. Jopolowski. They are made by quacks and charlatans.
The boy needs to be treated away from the community. Tell your wife
that he is highly contagious and she needs to think of your other
son and her neighbors. I can recommend a very good place for you to
send him."

As Ojciec turned to explain the doctor's
words to his mother, Joe pulled on the bottom of the elderly man's
suit coat. "Please sir," he whispered, "my mother is carrying a
baby. Tell them I will go away to this place. I don't want anything
to happen to the baby because of me."

"You are a brave boy and a good son." The
doctor interrupted Joe's parents to repeat what the boy had
whispered to him. "Now, I cannot force you to send Joe away, but I
cannot emphasize enough how important it is for him to get
treatment and for you not to expose your young son and mother and
baby to the disease. If you will let me, I can take him to the
sanitarium tomorrow. I have business there I have to attend to, and
he can ride with me in my car. It is not far from here, but I would
prefer the boy doesn't go by streetcar as I don't wish him to
expose anyone else."

"Where is this place, Dr. Levy? What are the
costs? It must be expensive for him to stay there?" Mikołaj
asked.

"The Children's Free Hospital is on St.
Antoine, not far from here by streetcar. You can come visit him in
a few weeks when he is feeling better. The hospital was built on
donations and is subsidized, so just pay what you are able, Mr.
Jopolowski. Joe will get very good care there, don't worry. And I
will check on him once a week to monitor his progress and
treatment."

"Please, Matka? Let me go with the doctor. I
don't want you or Frank to get sick because of me. I'll be fine—I
promise. And Ojciec can come and see me soon."

"Yes. Yes. And Joe can get paper and write
letters to you every day. You can write, Joe?" the doctor
asked.

"Yes sir." His voice cracked.

"Now, see? He will be fine. He is a brave
young man. Now let's go downstairs and discuss the arrangements and
let this boy rest. Goodbye, Joe. I will see you tomorrow." The
adults left Joe alone in his bedroom and made their way
downstairs.

Joe was too tired to worry about going to the
sanitarium. He was happy there was a place that would take care of
him and not bankrupt his father. A worried Frank tried to sneak in
the bedroom while the doctor was talking to his parents in the
living room, but Joe sternly told him to go play in their parents'
room and stay out. Frank pouted but obeyed his older brother. Joe
fell back asleep before Dr. Levy left.

The next morning he was awakened by his
mother. She was packing a small leather case with his few items of
clothing. Her pretty blonde hair peeked from underneath the blue
babushka she wore. Her hands moved quickly, folding his clothes and
placing them neatly in the case. She turned and saw he was sitting
up in bed staring at her.

"Joe, kochanie
,
are you hungry?" she
said, startled that he was awake.

"Yes Matka, a little."

"I will bring you some broth. I made some
this morning. But first let me help you wash up." Matka washed him
with warm water and dried his skin softly with a towel. She helped
him get dressed in his brown knickers and ivory shirt. "Now sit
here while I get you some broth."

Frank peered behind the doorway as their
mother's skirts bustled out. "Don't you come in here, Frank. I mean
it," Joe said.

"Joe go?" Frank asked.

"Yes, I'm leaving, but I'll be back soon. And
you will get the bedroom all to yourself while I'm gone."

"Don't want Joe to go," Frank had tears in
his eyes.

"I won't be gone long, Frank. Listen, Frank.
Can you do something very important for me while I am gone?"

Frank nodded yes, his dark blue eyes staring
at his brother.

"Will you take care of Matka while I'm gone
and help her by being a very good boy?"

"Okay!" Frank toddled off down the hall in
search of some new entertainment or a snack.

Matka came in and gave Joe a bowl of steaming
broth. Joe drank the broth, but the steam caused him to start
coughing and his mother took the bowl from him.

"Oh, Joe, how can I let you go? I will miss
you so much. I will tell the doctor we have changed our minds, and
I'll take care of you here at home."

"No, Matka. I need to go to the Children's
Hospital. Please don't worry. I'll write you a letter every day to
let you know how I'm doing. I'll be home before you know it, and
you will be yelling at me to come in from playing street ball and
complaining that boys bring in more dirt than horses to a
barn."

Matka smiled and patted Joe's head. She
squeezed his hand. There was a knock on the door. Ojciec let the
doctor in. His father wrapped Joe in Matka's quilt and carried him
to the doctor's Model T that was idling in front of the house. The
doctor opened the door, and Ojciec gently placed Joe in the front
seat.

"Get well, son. I'll come see you as soon as
Dr. Levy says I can." Blinking away a tear, he closed the door and
walked up the steps and into the house.

"Well, let's get going," said the doctor. He
put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. Joe wished he
felt better so he could enjoy his first automobile ride. The air
was chilly in the car, and Joe pulled the quilt tighter around his
body. The car bumped down the cobblestone street till the doctor
turned onto Woodward Avenue, where the street was paved with
concrete. The ride immediately became smoother. Joe looked out the
window at the people walking to Sunday Mass.

Joe apologized to the doctor. "Sorry you
can't go to church today because you are taking me to the
hospital."

"My Sabbath is on Friday night, Joe. All
Jewish services are held then." The doctor chuckled.

"Oh, right," Joe replied, embarrassed. "I
forgot."

"That's all right, son. Just rest and we will
be at the hospital soon."

After a few minutes, Joe's curiosity got the
better of him and he had to ask, "Why is the hospital free for
children?"

"Well, Mr. Hiram Walker gave one hundred
twenty-five thousand dollars to build it about twenty years ago,
when his thirteen-year-old daughter Jennie Melissa died. Mr. Walker
owned the Canadian Club whisky distillery in Canada, and he was
extremely wealthy. He was an American who lived here in Detroit.
When his little girl died he wanted to do something for all the
sick children, so he built this hospital and left money to help
with the cost to run it."

"Was she his only child?" Joe asked.

"No, no, he had three older sons who run the
company now. Not sure how long they will fund the hospital though,
with the temperance movement in full swing over here."

"Temperance?" Joe asked.

"Yes. A lot of people over here have been
fighting to make liquor and beer illegal to sell or drink."

"Why would they want to do that?" Joe
inquired. His father drank beer almost every day and the idea that
people would make a law banning it puzzled him.

"Temperance supporters believe society would
be better if men did not consume alcohol. Oh, they all have their
own ideas mind you. The Anti-Saloon League preach total abstinence,
while others are only against liquor and still others believe in
moderation in regards to drink. I am of the latter opinion. But I
understand why some feel abstinence is the only solution. Too many
husbands getting drunk in this country and beat their wives and
children. If passing a law to ban alcohol meant not one more wife
or child would be hit in drunken anger; I would be behind it one
hundred percent. But human nature being what it is; I don't think
banning liquor will bring about the results the temperance movement
is looking for."

Dr. Levy looked down at Joe and smiled. "My
turn to apologize to you, son. What you need now is a doctor and
not a man on a soapbox. My point is that I'm not sure how much
longer Mr. Walker's money will be able to fund the hospital if the
government bans the sale of liquor. Well, here we are now, young
man."

Dr. Levy pulled into a curved driveway and
parked the car under an arched tower that led to the entrance of
the stone-walled hospital. Two nurses in white uniforms and large
caps came out and put Joe in a small wooden chair with wheels.

"Goodbye, Joe. I will check on you after I go
on my rounds. You are in good hands." Dr. Levy climbed back into
his car and drove off to the back of the hospital.

The nurses wheeled Joe inside and went
through the process of admitting him to the sanitarium portion of
the hospital, where all the children diagnosed with tuberculosis
were housed. They gave him a bed in a long room with nine other
beds. Boys between five and twelve years old lay in the small metal
beds with white sheets. Each bed was placed in front of a window
that was open to the air as the doctors believed sunlight and fresh
air could cure their disease.

The following six months were a haze to Joe. He read
books and played board games with his ward mates, but mostly he
slept. Exhaustion overtook his small body and he felt cold all the
time. The windows of his ward were always open, even when the
temperatures dipped below zero. Once a day the boys were wrapped up
in blankets and taken outside to sit in the sun for two hours. They
were expected to silently rest on chaise lounges to encourage the
sun to heal their lungs. Most days the goal of quiet rest was not
achieved, because the boys' teeth chattered so violently.

The nurses were kind but strict. Often Joe
fell asleep to the sound of one of his ward mates crying. Doctor
Levy kept his promise to check on Joe's progress every week.
Towards the spring, Joe's father was allowed to visit him. The
nurses would wheel Joe outside to a small covered patio behind the
hospital, where he and his father would visit for an hour. Ojciec
brought with him the children's section of the
Detroit News
and a copy of the
Dziennik Polski
. Joe enjoyed reading in
his childhood language; it helped lessen his feeling of
homesickness. His mother sent cookies and candy for him to share
with the other boys. The sugary sweets would momentarily lift the
melancholy atmosphere of the ward. Joe missed home but was so tired
and weak his homesickness was secondary to his desire to feel
better.

His health improved in the spring, and Dr.
Levy began discussing his discharge, but he experienced a severe
setback at the end of June. Again, his father was not allowed to
visit. Joe felt like he was never going to leave the sanitarium.
Long, cold, lonely hours encompassed his nights, and grueling
coughing spasms his days. The relapse lasted two weeks and left him
weaker than before. He couldn't get out of bed without assistance.
The nurses worried that he wouldn't regain his strength and the
disease would cause him to be an invalid.

Joe overheard the nurses discussing his
condition one evening at the end of the ward when they thought the
boys were all asleep. The women whispered to each other,
occasionally glancing down the ward to where they thought Joe was
asleep in his bed. That morning the doctors had determined that one
of Joe's lungs did not work and it never would. "How will the poor
child recover now with only one functioning lung?" one asked. The
others only responded, "It's a pity" and "It's in God's hands
now."

Joe rolled over in bed and put his small
hands together in prayer. He prayed, "God, give me strength."

Suddenly he felt a heavenly warmth surround
his lungs and then his entire body. For the first time since being
in the sanitarium, Joe felt at peace. He knew he'd received an
answer to his prayer. He reached inside himself, grabbed onto the
fighting side of his soul, and decided to battle his illness.

Every day Joe used will power to perform the
exercises prescribed by his physicians. The nurses told him to stop
when they saw sweat pouring down his pale brow and forced him back
to bed, but Joe continued flexing and moving and deep breathing
under the covers after they left. It took several weeks for his
condition to improve enough for the doctors to allow his father to
visit him again. The first time he saw his father after his
relapse, Ojciec had tears pouring down his face.

"Joe, I thought I'd never see you again. My
son, we were so worried and frightened. Your mother cries every
day, and the entire family has been lighting a prayer candle every
week in church for your recovery. Marya and Pauline light one at
every morning Mass before school too."

"Boy, the doctors must've made it sound real
bad if Marya is lighting candles for me!" Joe attempted to laugh
but broke into a ragged cough.