1109 (41) NO! NO! NOT AGAIN! REVISITED 52

41

... As the commotion awakens Aunt Sari, who had fallen asleep on the living room couch, she realizes the baby had not awakened for her bottle—so, her inner alarm rings aloud along with Mom's and Dad's.

2002

While sitting, swinging and listening, decades later, blood rushes hotly through my veins as I imagine (?) remember (?) the mental torment suffered by my parents, who wait anxiously in our apartment for the buzzer in the downstairs foyer to ring, signaling the arrival of life saving aid.  The first to arrive?  A quintet of strong, strapping young men leap up three flights of stairs.

Thank G-d, our family doctor lives close by, because as soon as he pushes the buzzer in the foyer, three floors below, my father—who can't stop pacing next to my mother, who is still sitting on the bed after relinquishing her precious child from being cradled in her arms to the expertise of the firefighters—dashes out of the crowded bedroom to ring him in. Then, flinging open our apartment's front door, Dad flies across the threshold into the hall where, leaning over the banister, he peers into the stairwell, imploring the doctor to—Hurry!  Hurry!—and as our family physician bounds up those three flights of stairs, taking two at a time, his mind dwells on last year—and Janet—while his lungs gasp for air ...

Once the doctor sets foot on the third floor landing and locks eyes with Dad's panic, the pair rush into the bedroom, where the firemen—one of whom is tending to the baby, lying, waxen, on my parents' bed—are huddled, together, after having decided upon a plan of action …

As the doctor, being far from young, is still huffing and puffing when he realizes what's about to take place—next thing we know, he’s lunging at the fireman, who's bending over Lauren, and while yelling, “No! Stop!" our mild mannered family doctor forcefully shoves the fireman's hand away from my sister's pale face. And thus does the doctor forbid the oxygen mask from covering our baby's rosebud mouth and delicate nose.

You see, the doctor had recently learned that administering too much oxygen causes blindness in infants. And if Lauren is alive, he's determined to save her sight ...


Decades later, while swinging, side by side, listening intently to the hellacious events of that night, my mind is held spellbound, soaking in Mom's words:

“Incredibly, Lauren began to stir from her strange, coma-like state, which had terrified everyone of us!  None of us, including the doctor and firemen, had ever heard a more welcome sound than Lauren's indignant cries.  While huddling together, watching her tiny, milk white features wrinkling up and reddening as angry wails of hunger pumped life sustaining oxygen through the vessels of her tiny body, our minds reeled at the fact that something as bizarre as this had taken place on the very first night that I’d agreed to leave her with anyone!  Later, in the still of the night, Dad and I marveled at the fact that the doctor arrived in time, armed with new information, which saved Lauren's sight.” 

2014
Later in life, upon meeting a woman, who had not been as fortunate as my sister, I felt chills run up and down my spine …

2002

“My God, Mom—what a night that must have been for all of you.  In fact, after such a horrendous experience, you must have felt shaken for quite some time.”

2014
Denial closes my eyes to including myself …

2002

“And how!  In fact, it’s impossible to describe how terrified I’d felt.”

Then while the sway of the swing soothes our minds, Mom and I stare up at the serene presence of Mother Nature’s mountain, rising like a protective shield before us.  And as we contemplate the surrealistic panicked sensations of deja vu, which had most assuredly assaulted every heart and mind in that room, Mom faces me and asks, "Annie—do you remember any of that?”