Holiday Advent Story 12

Abigail howled at the night. The small baby had been sick for three weeks. She had cried all day, every day, with little rest. Her silence came in fits and bursts as she slept in small moments during the day.

The mother had taken Abagail to the doctor at a local family clinic. He had found little wrong with Abagail. She ran a slight fever. He assured the mother that it would amount to a sleepless night or two then she would shake it off.

The mother had called back to the clinic to see if she could see a different doctor. They told her the doctor was quite good and his opinion was correct.

The mother was worried. She wanted to go to a different doctor but she couldn’t afford one. The clinic was free and they seemed to not care. She’d lost her job six months ago when her office closed. She’d been unable to find more work. It was hard.

She needed a job that had allowances for day care. Her mother could watch Abagail some of the time, but she was getting on in years and the baby was beginning to be too much for her mother.

She had decided to take Abagail to a different clinic. There was one across town. It required two bus transfers to reach. She apologized to the people around her as Abagail cried.  She tried to hush her baby as people glared. A few made rude comments.

She reached the clinic and sat in the waiting room. It was cold and felt of sick. The nurse at the desk handed her a clipboard full of forms without saying a word. The waiting room was full of people; twenty maybe twenty-five.

It was so full it took nearly four hours before they could see her. She was finally allowed to see a doctor and explain what was wrong. They pulled up her Abagail’s name in their system. They told her there was a diagnosis. That she was being fussy. She tried to explain she’d seen that doctor two weeks ago. He’d said it would only last a couple of days.

On the ride home she held her baby. She apologized to the people around her. She tried not to cry again.

“Excuse me,” said a well-dressed young man.

“I’m sorry,” said the mother. “She’s not feeling well. I’ll try and keep her quiet.”

“What’s wrong with her?” he asked.

“She has a slight fever,” said the mother. “It should pass in a day or two.”

“Are you sure?” asked the young man. “It seems like it may be more than that.”

“That’s what the clinic says.”

The young man knelt down in front of her and pulled a small business card from his pocket. “Bring her by Saint Harold’s tomorrow,” said the young man handing the mother the card. “Ask for me.”

“I can’t afford…”

“I didn’t ask if you could afford it.

The bus stopped and the young man stepped off into the night.

That night the mother sat beside Abagail’s crib and rocked it gently. For short moments Abagail would calm but they were short lived.

The next morning, with bags under her eyes and her body weighed down with exhaustion the mother boarded another bus to travel to Saint Harold’s. It wasn’t as far as the clinic but it still took many hours. As with the previous day she apologized to those around her as Abagail cried.

The hospital lobby was warm and inviting. There were six people waiting to be seen. She walked to the desk and the nurse cooed at Abagail. They talked to her; asked her what she needed. She offered the card and told them of the young man.

The nurse took the card pulled out a clipboard and took her to an exam room. They stayed and helped her fill out the paperwork while she held Abagail to try and clam her.

When they were done the young man entered. He was wearing a lab coat and doctors scrubs. He talked to the mother and heard her story. He asked questions about Abagail. After a while he asked if he could examine her. The mother handed her to the young man who checked Abagail. He spent a long time looking at her, checking her temperature, looking in her eyes, ears, and nose. He checked everything anyone could think of.

When he was done he called for a nurse. He wrote a note and sent the nurse away with it.

He explained that Abagail had an ear infection. The nurse was bringing a prescription for the mother. He talked about Abagail and explained what the mother needed to do.

After he spoke for a long time he asked if the mother had any questions.

“I can’t afford a prescription,” said the mother.

“I didn’t ask if you could.”

The nurse returned and handed the mother a small paper bag.

The mother took Abagail home. She apologized to the people around her. She tried to comfort her baby,

That night she opened the bag and followed the instructions the doctor had given her. She laid Abagail in bed and sat beside her crib rocking it gently. After a time Abagail grew quiet and slept. She stayed that way through the night and into the morning.

end
Silent Night