* * * * *
The phone rang. It shattered the silence in the Vandervoort family room. Dr. Vandervoort answered it. He spoke quickly, then hung up.
“That was the hospital,” he told Sylvia and Deanne. “One of my patients isn’t doing well. I’m going to have to go in and examine him.”
Mrs. Vandervoort put her needlepoint down. “Of course, dear,” she smiled.
Deanne felt her pulse begin to race. She had an idea. “Dad,” she started, “let me go with you. I want to get some of my things. This would be a perfect time.”
“Oh, Hans,” Mrs. Vandervoort interrupted. “It’s already ten o’clock. You could be there for hours. Deanne, you can go anytime after school. Why now?”
“Please, Dad,” Deanne said urgently. A special look passed between them.
“All right,” he said. “But hurry up. I have to get going.”
“I will,” she called, running from the room to get her jacket and comb her hair.
They drove quickly to the hospital. “I don’t know how long I’ll be,” he told her when they pulled into the parking lot.
“It’s okay,” she began. “I’m just going to clean out my locker. Then I’ll go up to your office and wait. I can sleep on your couch.”
“Like old times,” he said.
“Almost,” she said as they walked into the hospital together.
* * * * *
She didn’t intend to go up to the Oncology floor. But, before she even realized it, she was there. The halls smelled of disinfectant and medication. They smelled familiar and sad.
“I won’t go to his room!” she told herself firmly.
But, she was drawn there automatically. She passed the nurses’ station. There wasn’t anyone on duty that she knew.
She stood for a long time in front of room 438. Everything came back to her in a flood of memories. Tears sprang to her eyes. Her pain was real. Deanne sniffled and turned to go, when she heard the small, muffled crying of a child.
It was coming from behind that door, the one that she couldn’t bare to touch. Slowly, Deanne reached out and pushed on the handle. It swung open easily.
A small form lay heaped in the one bed Deanne couldn’t stand to look at. The night light glowed in the darkness. But, Deanne had to get closer in order to make out the huddled shape of a little girl.
“Hello,” Deanne said. “Are you crying?”
“Who are you?” the girl asked. “Are you a nurse?”
“No,” Deanne said. Before she could say anything else, the girl asked, “Are you an angel?”
“Oh, no,” Deanne smiled. “I was walking down the hall and I heard you crying. What’s wrong?”
“I’m scared,” she said in her small voice.
“Why? Did you have a bad dream?”
“It’s dark,” said the child. “I’m scared in the dark. My mommy couldn’t stay with me. I want to go home.”
“Do you want me to get a nurse?” Deanne asked kindly.
“They’re too busy. I’m a big girl. I’m almost six. I’m not supposed to be scared.”
Deanne felt a lump rise in her throat. She should turn and run away. She shouldn’t stay. It was too painful for her.
She cleared her throat. “You know,” she whispered. “I had a friend once . . . and he told me when someone holds your hand it’s easy to fall asleep. You won’t ever be afraid as long as someone holds on.”
“Where’s your friend now?” the little girl asked.
“He, he had to go away.”
“Will he come back?”
“No,” Deanne murmured softly. Then she added, “But he’s happy now.” Deanne brushed the back of her hand across her eyes. “Why don’t I pull up this chair and sit right next to your bed and hold your hand until you fall asleep?”
“Would you?” The child sounded relieved. “You won’t leave?”
“Not until you’re sound asleep. I promise,” Deanne said.
The girl grasped Deanne’s hand firmly and settled back on her pillow. Deanne held on tightly and leaned back in the chair. She knew the girl was asleep in a few minutes.
Her eyes swept around the familiar room.
Everything was just as she remembered it. Except . . . except . . . “Good-bye, Matt.” Deanne whispered into the darkness.
The familiar sounds of the hospital settled in around her. The child’s fingers slowly relaxed as she fell into a deep sleep. Deanne heard the child’s rhythmic breathing. But Deanne didn’t let go of her hand. For the first time in weeks she felt peaceful and content. She felt hopeful.
And she knew that she’d come home.
To become a hospital volunteer during the summer, after school and/or on weekends, call the Volunteer Program Director at your local hospital.
To become a hospital volunteer during the summer, after school and/or on weekends, call the Volunteer Program Director at your local hospital.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lurlene McDaniel lives in Chattanooga, Tennessee, and is a favorite author of young people all over the country. Her best-selling books about kids overcoming problems such as cancer, diabetes, and the death of a parent or sibling draw a wide response from her readers. Lurlene says that the best compliment she can receive is having a reader tell her, “Your story was so interesting that I couldn’t put it down!” To Lurlene, the most important thing is writing an uplifting story that helps the reader to look at life from a different perspective.
Six Months to Live, the first of the bestselling books about Dawn Rochelle and her courageous fight against cancer, was placed in a time capsule at the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C. The capsule is scheduled to be opened in the year 2089.
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