Chapter 9: A Really Terrible Month

I asked Tracy, “Where’s your mother? We haven’t seen her for over a week?”

Tracy told me, “She been doing her real estate stuff a lot, but the rest of the time she seems to sleep except for meals. She’s been asleep when I get home unless she has some business. She told me one night that the day before she’d gone to bed at seven p.m. and slept until eight a.m. the next morning – thirteen hours!”

I probed, “And she’s been doing that every day?”

“Close to it, apparently. She sent her love to you and Wendy and her apologies for not getting over here for the past few days.”

“That’s not good. She should see a doctor. It sounds like she’s anemic or something. Please urge her to do something and not just try to roll with it.”

Tracy did carry the message home, and two days later I got what turned out to be an unexpected and unwanted call. “Matt, we need you up here. Something is wrong with mom – very wrong. Her doctor just checked her into the hospital. I think she is anemic, but dangerously so, according to her. I’m worried. The doctors can’t immediately pin down what’s wrong with her. They said that her body wasn’t reacting the way it should.”

Wendy and I were in my car in seconds, and forty minutes later, we found Tracy in the Sarasota Memorial Hospital general waiting room. Since visiting hours were in effect, she led us to her mother’s room.

Penny was in bed, propped up by the bed and a few pillows. She’d been dozing.

Tracy announced us, “Mom, Wendy and Matt are here. Wake up.”

Penny’s eyes blinked open and she smiled at us and waved. “Thanks for coming. Aren’t I something? I think I have some kind of chronic fatigue syndrome or something. The doctors took about a gallon of my blood and then threw me in here for observation.”

We expressed our condolences and wished her a speedy recovery. We both held back on kisses and hugs until Penny insisted on them. She speculated about all of us having an orgy in her hospital room since she didn’t have a roommate.

I looked at the IV drip bags feeding fluids slowly into her body: Ringer’s lactate solution was pumping her full of good electrolytes, and there was a liquid form of methylprednisolone. I pulled out my cellphone and looked up the latter drug. I didn’t like what I read about what it treated, so I kept quiet. Wendy, Tracy, and Penny were talking together, and I sat quietly by the window.

We stayed an hour, and then Penny started to nod off again. Tracy indicated that she was going to stay, but she walked us to the elevators, with hugged and kissed and Wendy and I left the hospital.

The next day, we were back at SMH with flowers. Tracy wasn’t there so we talked to Penny for a while. She looked paler and wiped out. She said, “I think what I have is a mystery to them. Several doctors were all in together at six a.m. this morning examining me and my test results. I apparently have some kind of autoimmune disorder.”

Without saying a word, I cursed. I wanted to scream. I loved this woman and she was sick and apparently getting sicker. Instead, I shrugged. “They’ll figure it out, tell you to take two aspirin in the morning, and send you home soon.” I think Penny and I knew that was unlikely. I also noted that she had a new drug dripping into her body, another immunosuppressive medicine named Azathioprine. When I checked on my cellphone for information about the new drug, I learned that it reduced the body’s natural immune system. The doctors were trying to stop her body from reacting to itself.

I said to Penny, “One of the drugs they’re dripping into your body is trying to shut down your immune system. I think your body is rejecting something. Have you had any surgeries or transplants?”

Penny shook her head, “Nothing, except routine dental work. I’m all original equipment.”

I changed the topic and asked about her real estate work. She’d passed her listings and such to a colleague on a temporary basis. My house was one of her holdings. She told me about Alice Jordan, how nice she was, and how she’d probably be calling me to get a close-up tour of the house someday soon.

I stayed on to tell her about some funny customer visits for Retail Solutions, and Wendy left the hospital to go to the college for a Calculus study group. Wendy texted me later, that she was going back to the hospital with Tracy in mid-afternoon, and would see me at home for dinner.

Wendy and I arrived home about the same time. She was horny and so was I, so we made love and then went out for dinner. I liked having the house for sale. It gave us the excuse to keep an ultra-neat house and not to cook.

Over dinner, Wendy said, “Penny’s really sick, isn’t she?”

I nodded and choked up. Tears flooded my eyes. I had to speak the unspeakable for the first time. I stammered, “A week in the hospital and not getting any better isn’t good. The drugs she’s getting are ... for really bad situations.”

Wendy observed in a solemn tone, “I think she’s weaker and paler than a week ago. Can we do anything?”

“I’ll talk to the doctors tomorrow. I was thinking that I’d go in for that six-a.m. consultation even though I’m not family. Penny can okay them talking to me, I hope.”

I was at SMH at five-thirty the next morning. I snuck into Penny’s room and stayed quiet until she opened her eyes and looked at me. “Matt, you’re here?”

“I wanted to hear the doctors talk to you. Will you ask them to share whatever is wrong with you and all their thinking about this with me?”

“Yes. I even signed something yesterday afternoon that will do that. They should have that out front at the nurses’ station by now. I’m scared.” She tried to wash the look of panic from her face.

Two older doctors and two interns came in just after six. I introduced myself and said that I had been legally signed off as the medical proxy for Penny. I also told them that they should spare no expense to help her recover and that I’d cover all financial costs. They all nodded and went on with their assessment. Penny had apparently had more blood tests overnight and the results were there. Dr. Desmond went over the results and passed the papers around to the others.

Dr. Desmond said, “Mrs. Winter is not getting better, and, in fact, is slowly slipping from us. I want to move her to intensive care today and start her on Hydroxychloroquine - it’s another immunosuppressive drug that we’d think might help. After this we’ll all have to suit up in scrubs to see her. She’ll be able to visit, but no physical contact please.” He looked at me as he spoke. I nodded in understanding.

Penny and I looked at each other. At least we’d hugged and kissed that morning. I mentioned her ‘daughters’ and was informed that they’d have the same instructions regarding visits.

I screamed inside my mind. FUCK!

I asked, “This is serious, right?”

Dr. Desmond looked me in the eye and said, “About as serious as it gets. We don’t have any handle on anything that is making her improve. We’re not even sure that what we’re doing is slowing down what’s happening. Fundamentally, her body is rejecting itself. We don’t know why, why it started when it did, ... or really anything. We’re at the edge of medical science and there just isn’t anything out there to help us. I’ve shared her records with many others in the field, I’ve got two smart interns doing nothing but research on Mrs. Winter’s condition and treatments, we’ve talked to colleagues at two other learned hospitals, and ... well, we’re doing all we can.” He looked grim.

After the doctors left, some nurses came in and rolled Penny out of her room and into the shielded intensive care unit at the other end of that hospital floor. I didn’t go in with her then. I sat in my car in the parking hospital garage and cried for an hour before I could get my emotions under control enough to drive home. I did come to visit her every day. I loved this woman.

Penny died five days later.

Tracy was devastated. Wendy was shattered. I was destroyed. None of us could stop crying. We were constantly hugging each other and promising that things would eventually get better. I couldn’t believe that. I spent days praying that I was having a bad dream and would wake up to Penny’s kiss and smile.

Penny’s assistant Alice Jordan jumped in and although she too was grieving took over the memorial service arrangements. She was super-efficient and a really nice woman Penny’s age. Penny was cremated, and we had a funeral service at the funeral home; over two hundred people attended or came by to pay their respects. It was a painful day but Tracy, Wendy, and I weathered through.

At the end of the formal funeral service conducted by a minister. a tall man in a business suit came up to me and introduced himself, “Matt, I’m Gordon Slath. I was Penny’s attorney. I need to meet with you, Tracy, and Wendy at your earliest convenience. One important item that I need to tell you immediately is that you are now the guardian for Tracy and Wendy.” He explained a few more things about that and thrust a business card into my hand. “Call me tomorrow and we’ll set up a time. Soon, please. There’s a lot you need to deal with.”

We arranged an appointment for that Friday just after lunch. I hadn’t thought about what would happen legally to Tracy or Penny’s ward Wendy. My mind had been entirely focused on Penny for the past two weeks. I’d read voraciously about autoimmune diseases, and it wasn’t that good. I’d had more talks with Dr. Desmond and his staff. Meeting Penny’s attorney was a surprise and a shock. I realized how short-sighted I’d been.

Gordon Slath apparently was a high-end personal lawyer for Penny. He’d known her for the past decade and handled all sorts of things for her. I learned his firm had handled many of her real estate transactions, but especially the really complex and nitty-gritty ones. Gordon had become a friend, and also handled her personal matters and estate planning.

Tracy, Wendy, and I sat in brown leather chairs with a million little gold tacks around the edges in Gordon’s posh dark-wood office. He came out from behind his desk and sat with us – a very homey gesture. I could tell that he was also broken up about Penny’s death.

He explained that he had to talk to the girls alone. I was surprised. He led them out the office door, but they returned about two minutes later. I learned he’d asked each of them one key question and some elaboration: are you happy living with Matt Carter? Do you want to continue until you are eighteen and have him represent you?

Both teens told him unequivocally, “Yes.” Wendy went further, saying that I was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She briefly told him about running away and after getting drenched in some rain how she’d taken refuge in my car and how I caught her. She told how I had let her live with me, giving her a guest room all to herself, getting her a great intern position for the same company that I worked for, and later buying her a used car so she could attend her college classes and work, and even paying some of her college expenses that weren’t covered by her scholarships.

Tracy had added that she was Wendy’s best friend, and that through her she’d met me and been impressed by my kindness. She cited my having stopped one time with her in the car to help a woman with a flat tire, and mentioned how I helped elderly women in the grocery store or in parking lots.

Gordon told all of us, “The girls’ desire to live with you is good, because Penny put both of you in Matt’s care. He is now your legal guardian until you are eighteen-years of age. At that point, the guardianship will end and you will officially and legally be adults.”