ON A WING AND A PRAYER

People stare at me. I don’t like it but do what I have to do, hold on to the pink polka dot leash attached to my daughter, Ellie. ‘Hey, Lady, that’s a child,not a dog!,’ How’d you like to be tied to a leash? Shame on you.’Remarks are barbs in my heart but I seal my lips.

I am almost to Security insanity, shorten Ellie’s bond, lift her in my arms and show her Shh shh. She understands and is quiet for a few minutes. Ellie is almost 3 (and I use this term reluctantly) ‘she’s mentally challenged- slow).A kind passenger behind me quickens her step and offers to put my necessary carry-on items on the security table. Ellie reaches her sleeve and says , ‘Go Go. I have no idea what she means but am delighted she said anything at all. My helper follows me until we are both declared non-threatening and helps me put Ellie’s flip flops on her feet. Mrs. Wonderful takes a strong hold of my bag of medicines, a bottle of water, clean panties for Ellie, a toy or two and a book about goofy looking animals and insists on walking me to my gate.

My purse is secure and comfortable on my shoulder and Ellie is again on her leash. The walk to Gate 17B is far so I carry Ellie part of the way. Flt. 764 boards in 10 minutes. I turn to my left, right and all around, Mrs. Wonderful has vanished. Hopefully I had imagined she’d be on our plane and would sit with me. It doesn’t happen.

Ellie has her own seat on the plane, with the purchased safety seat buckled on. To prevent her from annoying the aisle passenger, I give her the window view. When a white haired lady with gnarled veiny hands and a few long hairs on her chin tries to put her carry-on case in the luggage compartment, she can’t. The man on the other aisle seat says nothing, simply gets up, helps her and sits down.

As difficult as it is for me to take Ellie to Johns Hopkins without my husband’s help, I am aware that there still are lots of nice people, so shut the vinegar mouths out of my mind. A not-too- young stewardess unstraps Ellie from her seat, hands her a Honey Bun doll and carries her to the exit for me. I add her to my mental thank you list.

As soon as we de-plane, I step aside to re-leash Ellie before we hit bedlam at the luggage pick up area. They stand out like the Beef Eaters at Buckingham Castle. My Mom and Dad rush over to us, start to take Ellie’s hand, ask for a kiss and she cries. On the ride to their house in northwest Baltimore, Ellie actually falls asleep on my mother’s lap and I wish I could fit on too.

Hopkins is in a world of its own, a new expanding one that has no limits. I still remember being a patient there when I was only five and needed ear surgery. The old red brick, domed hospital that was on Broadway is still there but the hospital has spread for blocks, has auxiliaries all over the suburbs. Glass, steel, buildings rise like well beaten pancakes.Construction goes on 24 hours a day. Endowments grow faster than dandelions.

Yet what hasn’t changed is attitude. Each patient is an individual, treated with respect and care. The learning students go from room to room, each patient studied, discussed with the department head. In two minutes Ellie is happy. Two aides handle her with warm hands and hearts. They play games with her, show her the colorful murals, the children’s play room where all sorts of toys are being used and each takes her hand to lead her to the doctor’s office. Ellie smiles to me and says, ‘Bye, Mommy.’ Did the plane have some kind of magic juice coming out its vents?

I am led to an office where I wait a few moments to meet Dr. Wilbert. His office is comfortably cozy and he exudes interest in what I have to say. I give him the reports from her doctors in Westborough and of course, I do not expect him to make a diagnosis then, but do pray that it happens. ‘Mrs. Franklin, I would like to see Ellie three times this week. Can you manage that? Don’t expect too much too fast, just know that whatever is wrong, we will find it and repair it, if possible. There is a knock at his door and then a lighter one, lower, closer to the floor. ‘Come in,’ Dr. Wilbert softly says. In come the two aides and Ellie, smiling, showing me the dolly she was holding. She walks over to the doctor’s desk and taps on it. I come close to bursting out of my skin.

The doctor asks her if she could sit on the floor with him so they could play Daddies and Mommies and the little doll will be the baby. Ellie doesn’t answer but sits down on the round rug that is in front of the doctors desk that looks like a rainbow snake. He asks her a few questions but she only looks blank, doesn’t reply. I visually concoct wheels already spinning in his brain.

‘Say Goodbye to the doctor, Honey.’ She doesn’t but waves and blows him a kiss. I make the first of many appointments.