“Sure, I’ll go with you.”
I sighed in relief, and she patted my shoulder as I trudged off to bed.
On the way to the doctor’s office the following afternoon, I leaned my head back against the headrest and closed my eyes.
Moments later, Lillian patted my leg and cleared her throat. “Anna, there is a sickness unto death, and I don’t believe you are going to die. There is a sickness unto salvation; and since you are already saved, that’s not it either. There is also a sickness unto the glory of God. You probably have that kind of sickness, but let’s see what the doctor says.” We had just attended a Bill Gothard seminar, an annual event required by the school, and that was one of the things that we had heard him proclaim.
With my head and chest heavily congested, I had difficulty wrapping my mind around what Lillian was saying. I turned and stared at her blankly for a few seconds. “Just listen, Lillian,” I pleaded with her. “He’s going to look inside my throat and ears, then listen to my lungs, and then pull out his prescription pad. It’s the same thing every time,” I moaned. “I just want to get better because these doctor visits and the prescriptions have cost me almost four hundred dollars already.” I knew I wasn’t resting enough, but I also believed that there should be a medicine that would fix this, if the doctor would just diagnose my illness correctly.
It was Friday afternoon, and when we arrived at the doctor’s office, Lillian took over. “Anna has been sick for months, and she isn’t getting any better. She really needs you to help her.” This was our trusted doctor who had treated the entire family over the years —always on a cash basis, since Mark and Lillian were small-business owners and didn’t have health insurance.
He hunched his shoulders as if defeated. “I’ve been trying, but she doesn’t seem capable of slowing down. More than anything, she needs rest.”
I glanced sideways at Lillian, whose gaze was focused directly on the doctor.
The appointment went just as I had predicted. He checked my throat and ears, and then listened with his stethoscope to my lungs, front and back. When the doctor reached over to pick up the prescription pad, I burst into uncontrollable tears. Lillian put her arm around me and asked me to wait for her in the reception area.
I nodded, thankful that Lillian saw with her own eyes what I had predicted would happen. Maybe I really will get better this time. Maybe hearing the doctor tell me to rest will make Lillian realize I’m not being lazy or trying to get out of working. The doctor kindly agreed not to charge me for that visit.
Lillian went with me to the drugstore and filled the prescription, and I took the first dose after I ate a few crackers and some cheese when we got home. Soon after, I fell asleep on the living room floor while watching a movie. Lillian told me later that she and Mark had tried to wake me to send me to bed, but I didn’t move. I remember fading in and out, feeling loopy, trying to talk but nothing coherent coming out. This strong medicine contained codeine, designed to knock me out cold. Lillian placed a pillow under my head and covered me with a blanket.
Saturday passed in a continued fog of drowsiness, but I still went to work at the appliance store, though I wasn’t much help. On Sunday morning, I went to church with the family, then came straight home and went to bed. Late that afternoon, I took my medicine and headed back to the evening church service. During church, I started feeling loopy again. When the service was over, I tried to stand with the rest of the congregation, but I couldn’t. My brain told my legs to stand up, but they wouldn’t —or couldn’t —comply. I grabbed the arm of my friend sitting next to me. “I can’t walk. Would you please go get Lillian?”
Several church members put me between them and helped walk me to the car, and when we got home, Mark and Lillian lifted me under each arm to carry me to bed. I slept hard and long.
The next morning, June 27, 1988, I woke early as usual and dressed for work. After I ate breakfast, I took my medicine and rested on the couch, waiting for Lillian to return with the station wagon and pick me up.
“Anna, Anna! Wake up!”
I heard a voice, off in the distance. I woke to Lillian shaking my shoulder. I stared at her but had difficulty keeping my eyes open. I willed myself to sit up, but I kept dozing off again.
“Anna! It’s time to go to work.”
“Okay, I —let me . . .”
“Anna.” Lillian gently took my face in her hands and tilted it up toward hers.
“I’m sorry, I’m just so sleepy.”
“I can see that.” She laughed. “Well, I don’t see how you can possibly work today. Why don’t you just stay home and rest?” She finally understood that I really was too sick to work.
Relief flooded through me. She had never spoken those words to me before. No one had ever encouraged me to rest or take care of myself or even consider myself above the obligations in my life. Hearing the doctor’s advice in person must have finally convinced Lillian. I curled up on the couch and stayed there, while the children played around me.
At one point when I woke up, I asked one of the kids, “What time is it?”
“Four o’clock.”
“It’s four already? I need to take my medicine.” I pushed myself up to a sitting position on the sofa. No dizziness. I said a silent prayer, thankful that I didn’t feel light-headed. I stood up slowly and plodded to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water. The phone rang before I could take my medicine. I shushed the children as I picked it up. “Hello?”
“Anna?”
“Yes.”
“This is Don. Listen to me carefully.”
Why would Don be calling me? Years before, Ramona had married Don after she had left Dan Jordan. Was there something wrong with Ramona?
“Are you okay, Anna?”
He must have heard about me being carried out of church yesterday. How thoughtful of him to check on me. “I’m feeling better. Thank you.”
“And the kids? Are they all right?”
His voice sounded odd and strangled, as though he had to force out his words —one at a time. “Yeah, we’re all doing fine.” Hmmm, odd that he would ask about the children.
“Melvin is on his way over to the house.”
Melvin, who attended our church, worked for Reliance Appliance. “To Mark and Lillian’s house?”
“Yes. He should be there any minute.”
I noticed the same weird tone in his voice —an urgency, perhaps. My stomach was balled up like a tight fist. “Why is he coming here?”
“Listen, Anna, just gather the kids together and get in the truck with Melvin. Don’t ask me any questions. Just do as I say.” He hung up before waiting for me to answer.