The Caregiver

CHAPTER 22





After much deliberation, Mattie came to the conclusion that God must have, indeed, decided to leave her. She’d tried to pray, but that had been hopeless. For the first time in her life, she’d felt only emptiness when she’d prayed. As if no one was listening, that no one really cared.

Perhaps that was for the best?

Accepting the harsh reality of her situation seemed like the only way to survive. Now that she had stopped fighting the inevitable, and had stopped feeling so sorry for herself, Mattie realized she could concentrate on the needs of other people.

Which was a welcome change.

Now that she wasn’t consumed with herself, Mattie could look around and take in her surroundings. And what she saw there was amazing. She knew she was witnessing the Lord’s work in almost everything at the hospital.

Yes, God was working with the doctors and nurses. He was guiding them, giving them the knowledge to treat the cancer cells in their patients’ bodies. He gave the volunteers the strength to continually smile even when many of the patients were difficult and short-tempered.

He guided the technicians who worked in the radiation labs. The Lord was surely with Charlie, their driver, too. Miraculously, he never lost his patience, even when both she and her mother were not at their best.

All this thinking about others did give her comfort, and it did hold threads of hope for her, too. God was there in the hospital with them.

And just because He wasn’t watching over her, it didn’t mean He didn’t care about others.

That knowledge made her stay almost bearable.

That, and her loving cousin Lucy.

Oh, but she couldn’t help but worry about Lucy. Over the last three days, Lucy had left only once. Otherwise, she bustled and fetched. Smiled and encouraged. But not this afternoon.

“What is bothering you so much, Lucy?”

Lucy blinked. “Nothing.”

“Please tell me.”

“It’s just that I never imagined your healing would be such a roller coaster event. That’s all. I had thought that we would get through your chemotherapy treatments and then you would be better.”

Mattie completely understood. “All this, it was hard for me to accept at first, too. But I’ve come to find out that this cancer is a mighty tough opponent. Wily, too.”

“I don’t know how to make things better for you.”

“You already have made things better by being here.” Mattie was being completely honest. Lucy’s presence had been a true gift.

Slowly, Lucy nodded. “I’m glad I am here.” Standing up, she shook out her skirts. “Now, how can I help you?”

Though Mattie didn’t really feel like being fussed over, she saw that Lucy ached to do something—anything—to feel useful. So she pointed to her head and frowned. “My hair’s an awful mess. Would you mind brushing it out for me?”

“Not at all.” After digging through Mattie’s suitcase, Lucy helped Mattie off with her kapp, then unpinned her hair.

When her hair fell in waves down her shoulders, Mattie smiled. Perhaps a good hair brushing was what she needed. She closed her eyes when Lucy started.

As the soft bristles rubbed against her head, she felt her shoulder and neck muscles relax. It had been a long time since anyone had brushed her hair. Years.

Ah. Yes, this was most likely what she needed—to take time to enjoy the simple pleasure of getting her hair brushed.

And then she could put her kapp back on, and she would look more like herself. Neat and orderly.

“Oh, my,” Lucy murmured. Quietly. So quietly, Mattie almost didn’t hear her.

“What?”

With a stricken look, Lucy held up a handful of hair. “It’s coming out.”

Mattie grabbed the brush. “What is? My hair?” she asked, but of course it was a silly thing to ask. She knew what was happening.

“I’m sorry, Mattie. I’m afraid the medicine is causing it to come out.”

Awkwardly, Mattie ran the brush along her scalp. To her dismay, thick strands of hair came out. Right into her hands. Some fell onto her lap.

Crushed, she examined the rich brown strands now lying limp in her hands. Though she had never been an especially prideful girl, she’d always rather liked her hair. She’d liked the rich chocolate color and how thick and long it was.

And now it was falling out. Showing her once and for all that the cancer was winning another battle. And proving that God was still looking the other way.

“Lucy, go find me a mirror, would ya?”

“Oh, no . . .”

“Please?” Mattie couldn’t help that her voice had gotten high and shrill. “Please? Now. I can’t get up easily with the cords attached to me.”

“All right,” Lucy said. With another look of dismay, she met Mattie’s eyes, then swallowed hard. Without another word, she practically ran out the door.

Unable to help herself, Mattie brushed at her head again. Harder this time. In retaliation, more strands pulled away.

Minutes later, Lucy came in with a handheld mirror, and a concerned-looking nurse on her heels.

“Mattie, why don’t you put that brush away? We don’t need to dwell—”

She held out her hand. “Please. Give me the mirror.”

But instead of handing the mirror forward, Lucy looked at the nurse.

“It’s all right,” the nurse said quietly. “Let Mattie have it.”

With obvious reluctance, Lucy did as she bid.

Half dreading what she would see, Mattie raised it to her face. Immediately she spied a gray patch of bare skin that was now showing just above her ear. Unable to stop her sounds of dismay, Mattie tilted her head and moved the mirror around. More patches were visible.

And even more strands were loose in her hair, just waiting to fall on her lap. The tears now fell on her cheeks. She was in a losing battle with the disease. First it had claimed her breast, and now her hair. Already she’d lost ten pounds.

She was turning into someone she didn’t know. “I’m hatt gukkich.”

“You are not,” Lucy said. “You are not ugly at all.”

“Why don’t you let me have the mirror now, child,” the nurse said gently.

Though she wanted to scream and fight, Mattie did as she was bid.

When the nurse held the mirror again, she gazed at her with concern. “I can give you some medicine for your anxiety. It will help you rest.”

“I don’t need medicine. I’m fine.”

“All right,” she said agreeably. “Now, would you care to pin your hair back up and put it under your kapp?”

Mattie struggled with a reply. At the moment, she was afraid to touch her head. Afraid doing so would only pull out more strands.

After a meaningful look Lucy’s way, the nurse said, “Or we could do something else . . .”

“And what is that?”

“We could go get Miss Beverly. She’s a volunteer hairdresser.”

The nurse made no sense. “Why in the world would I need—”

“Miss Beverly shaves heads for women who are losing their hair,” she explained. “She’s here today. I saw her just down the hall.”

Oh, but shaving her head seemed like a terribly hard step.

But even if she fought the changes, they would still come. The chemo would still take its toll. “If you could find this Miss Beverly, I would be most appreciative,” she said quietly.

“I’ll be right back, sugar,” the nurse said with a smile.

Lucy walked around the bed and sat at her side. “Oh, Mattie, I’m so, so sorry.”

Mattie was, too. She was sorry about her hair, and her looks. And the fact that once again, her faith felt so tenuous.

Just when she was about to remind Lucy that God was in charge . . . Mattie was coming to realize that she didn’t care for that arrangement. Not at all.

Not one little bit.

Focus on Mattie. She needs you. Focus on her needs, not yours.

Over and over again, Lucy repeated the mantra, willing herself to believe the words. Willing herself to let them guide her.

Focusing on Mattie helped keep her mind off Calvin. All their misconceptions about each other had fallen away on the steps, leaving room for their feelings to grow.

And now they seemed to be in full bloom. No, it was more than that. She’d felt happy and calm. And peaceful. And for one little moment . . . the only thing she’d thought about was Calvin. And the fact that she was sure he’d been about to kiss her.

And if he had, Lucy knew she would have kissed him back. The feelings had been mildly shocking. When Paul died, she had sworn to herself that she’d never trust a man again. Certainly, she’d promised herself to never get involved in another relationship! All that would bring her was sorrow and pain.

So why did she now find herself thinking about him all the time?

“Lucy?” Mattie asked, snapping back her attention.

“Yes?”

“I . . . I don’t want to get my head shaved.” A new shadow of pain lit her eyes. “I’m afraid.”

“Of course you are,” Lucy murmured as she sat on her bed and, with her hands, gently embraced Mattie’s face. “It’s a scary thing, this is.”

“What if it doesn’t grow back?”

Afraid to assure her about something she knew nothing of, Lucy murmured, “Have you ever heard of someone’s hair not returning?”

“Nee.” Mattie seemed to shrink into herself. “I’m just sad and angry that all this is happening to me. I know it’s selfish.”

“You’re not selfish, Mattie,” Lucy consoled. “You’re just trying to come to grips with a mighty hard day. That’s all.”

Mattie squeezed her hand. “How bad does my head look . . . really?”

“It looks bad, Mattie. Not gut at all.”

“You never did p-ssyfoot around the truth, did you?”

“Oh, I have. There were times with Paul that I got terribly gut at hiding bad things.” Remembering another visit, Lucy said, “Do you recall when you came to see me right after you heard about Paul’s death?”

“Of course.”

“And do you remember when you knocked on my door to see if I needed help?”

After a moment, realization dawned. “And I discovered the bruises and faded marks on your skin?”

Lucy nodded.

“I remember.”

“I remember you telling me that perhaps I shouldn’t waste too many more tears on a man who had made me look so bad.”

Mattie’s lips curved up. “And, oh, but you did look bad, Lucy. And I told you so.”

“Sometimes honesty is what we need to hear, Cousin.”

“So you think I should let this Miss Beverly cut off my hair?”

“I do. It will make things easier, I think. And perhaps it will be something else you can cross off your list to dread.”

As if on cue, Mattie’s door opened and an attractive Englischer lady carrying a bright pink tote bag appeared in the doorway. “Knock, knock,” she said with a smile. “May I come in?”

Lucy looked to Mattie.

After a moment’s pause, she nodded. “Please.”

“My name is Beverly.” She paused at the foot of Mattie’s bed. “I’m a volunteer here. For years, I owned my own hair salon. Now I help patients in any way I can.” With a compassionate look, she murmured, “The nurse said you might have need of my services. Do you?”

With a feeling of fate, Mattie nodded, keeping her eyes straight ahead. She knew that if she looked Lucy’s way, she would dissolve into tears. Steadying her voice, and speaking as calmly and stoically as she possibly could, she said, “This is a wonderful-gut service you offer.”

The hairdresser’s cheek dimpled. “My sister is a cancer survivor. Years ago, after she recovered, I mentioned to her that I wished I could have done more to help others in some way. She suggested this. I’m trying to make a difficult situation just a bit easier.”

Mattie focused on the lady’s words as she pulled out her scissors; and Lucy held her hand as the first snip was made next to her ear. Then Mattie gave in to temptation and let her eyes close when the electric clipper was plugged in and Miss Beverly began to shave off the remains of her hair.

“Focus on the future,” Lucy murmured. “Focus on the future, not what is happening now.”

Mattie didn’t need to be told that Lucy was drawing on her own personal experiences for that advice.

However, at the moment, she couldn’t see a future. Instead, it was just a looming, dark cloud. Dark and foreboding and thick. And not allowing even a patch of sunlight to peek through.