Westbrook High School - Blue and White Yearbook (Westbrook, ME)

Page 54 text:

imagination. I'll expect to see you in the operating room inside of fifteen minutes, retorted Matthews hotly. And without waiting for an answer, he hung up. Jonathon Graham stood stupidly holding the receiver in his hand. Mat- thews expected him to come, but how could he, how could he? A Jonathon, dear, who called? asked his wife, rushing down the stairs. It was Matthews. He wants me for an emergency at the hospital. Sarah, what can I do?', he begged. Why there is only one thing for you to dog you must go. Forget about this morning. That is all in the past. I'1l make some coffee to warm you a little, and then I'1l go with you to the hospital. You can tell me about the case on the way, Sarah encouraged. I really want to do it, he confessed, but I'm afraid, Sarah, I'm afraid. I understand, Jonathon. But you have neither the time nor the right to be afraid. Come now, we have to hurry. You have a big job to do, and you're going to do it. 1,11 be right with you as I always am, she said tenderly. Yes, Sarah had always been with him, through everything. What would he do without her? She was his guiding light. When they arrived at the hospital, Doctor Matthews greeted them with, I knew you would come. I can always count on Sarah to make you act sensibly . . . Well, come, we have a big job waiting. Good luck, Jonathon, whispered Sarah as she pressed his hand tightly. 'iThanks, dear, I think I am going to need it. I have never felt this way be- fore-as if my whole future depended upon this operation. With that state- ment he disappeared into the operating room. In a few minutes he came out. We need a blood donor. One of the pilots is pretty badly off. Matthews, I want you to perform the transfusion. I am going to give the blood. I've tested it and it is the right type. Come, man, every minute countsf' Sarah was happy. She knew now that Jonathon would again be as confident as he had ever been, that he had the stuff of which real men are made. Sarah was a little worried, too. Jonathon was not a young man any longer, and a blood transfusion might be very serious. But no amount of argument could change his mind. Soon the door of the operating room opened, and the head of a stretcher appeared in the hallway. Sarah jumped to her feet. That was Jonathon on that stretcher, she had recognized his head. Quickly she grasped the arm of one of the internes who was carrying the stretcher and cried out, What has happened to my husband? Tell me! I've got to know. What has happened to him? The white-coated young man said quietly, Doctor Graham has had a heart attack. The transfusion was too much for him. I'm sorry. How ill is he? Is he going to be all right? she questioned brokenly. I couldn't say, Mrs. Graham. You will have to ask Doctor Matthews, answered the interne. Here he is now. Brewster, take him to Room 24,,, said Matthews. He is very ill, Sarah, he said gently. Fifty

Page 53 text:

It had been heartbreaking to Sarah to see her husband in such a broken mood. How her heart ached for him! She wanted so much to help him, yet she felt so powerless, so useless! Jonathon had not come home to dinner that night. Finally, when he did come, it was almost nine o'clock, and though he had had nothing to eat, no amount of persuasion on Sarah's part could induce him to taste the dinner that she had kept hot for him. He had consented to drink a cup of coffee-it had been so cold walking in the snow down by the river. Sarah finally broke the unbearable silence. Jonathon, dear, isn't there any- thing I can do, or something that I can get for you? I can't bear to see you like this. No, nothing, he answered, why don't you get some sleep? You look very tired, dear. I believe I shall go to bed. I am tired. Won't you come right up? she asked as she put her knitting into her bag. Yes, in a few minutes. I want to stay here a little longer. I'l1 be up in a few minutes. Don,t wait for me,', he replied, offering his cheek for her good- night kiss. All right, dear, I'll leave the light on in the hall for you. And don't stay down here too late, she pleaded as she left him alone in the dying firelight. Doctor Graham sat in the empty room with his head between his hands. He felt as if his world had toppled down about his very head. It made him sad to think of Sarah. She had been so proud of him all the years that they had been together. Certainly, now she would lose that pride in him that had kept him encouraged when things had been hard. s The fire was nearly out as Doctor Graham rose from his chair. He looked out of the window and saw that the storm was growing worse. The front lawn was buried under high drifts and the fine snow appeared silver in the rays of the streetlight. In the distance a train blew a dirge with its choking whistle. Doctor Graham turned sadly from the window and left the room to go to bed just as the clock struck three. As he passed through the hall, the telephone cut the quietness with its jangling bell. Still startled, the doctor lifted the receiver to his ear. Doctor Graham speaking, he said huskily. Graham, this is Matthews. I'm at the hospital. There has been a terrible accident-the storm has just forced down an army plane and two of the pilots are pretty badly injured. You've got to come, you know you're the only surgeon we have left who is capable of taking the responsibility. This is serious, man, dead serious? Then the voice on the other end of the wire waited expectantly for the answer. But-but, I can't. Not after this morning. I'm no good any more. Can't you get Laurence or Armstrong to operate? Don't you understand? . I am in- capable, he answered almost incoherently. No, I certainly do not understand. You're just as good a doctor as you ever were. You've got to come. It's your duty, Graham. Get that, it's your duty. You can't let two men die, as most certainly will happen unless they have the best attention immediately, just because of a foolish stupid figment of your Forty-nine

Page 55 text:

May I go to him, Peter? I must see him, I- must, she said to Matthews, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. Of course you may. He would want you with him. Jonathon is very gravely i1l,', he warned. Room 24. Sarah went to Jonathon's room. As she opened the door, she heard his heavy, irregular breathing. When he heard the door open, he looked up and said thickly, Sarah, I have done my best and the boys are going to be all right in time. I'm so glad that you made me come here tonight. You're a wonderful woman, Sarah. I need you more every day. You keep me in the right path with- out faltering .... Yes, Sarah, they are going to be all right. I guess I'm not too old, am I? As he spoke his voice grew weaker and he released his grip on Sarah,s hand. His eyes closed and he said no more. Sarah put her cool hand on his burning forehead. She knew that he could not hold out much longer. She knew that it was over when his hand lay limp in hers. After a few moments she rose from the bedside and made her way to the door. Sarah Graham knew that she could bear her loss since Jonathon had died happy, but her heart ached within her because he would not be able to enjoy his new-found happiness, his blessed reward for sacrificial service until the end. Sarah quietly closed the door as she went out, alone. M. G., '43. ay M y M051 Embarrassing Momenb When I was in my first year of school our teacher planned a program for Visitor's Dayf, I was in a part of the program in which a group of girls were supposed to act as mothers singing their babies to sleep. The teacher told us to bring our favorite doll to school for that purpose. Well, since my favorite was an exceptionally large colored baby doll, I insisted on taking it, although my mother tried to turn my attention to another. The afternoon of the program I proudly took my doll to school. It at- tracted the attention of the other children, so I felt prouder than ever. The teacher had arranged us according to height, and since I was the tallest I was placed in the middle. When it was time for our part in the program, we marched into our respec- tive places and started to sing our babies to sleep, rocking them to and fro in our arms. There I was in the middle singing to my negro child. Although the audience tried its best to keep from laughing, the effort Wasn't enough. What are they laughing at?,' I asked myself. Why, they are looking at me! Then I noticed that the mothers beside me were pointing at my black baby, and they too were laughing. The embarrassment of this incident created such a dislike for my doll that I never was interested in playing with it again. ANONYMOUS, '44, F if ty-one