Olivia (Logan 5)

"A while ago I noticed I had a small lump, so small it wasn't any bigger than a pea."

"A lump? Where?"

"Here," she said touching her left breast. "I mentioned it to Doctor Covington in passing and he advised me to come in for an exam, but I . . I just thought it would go away."

"Mother!"

"It hasn't. It's gotten a little larger and I'm just on pins and needles thinking about it. That's why I can't eat and why I'm so tired."

"You're going to the doctor tomorrow," I ordered. "I'm going right down to tell Daddy."

She didn't put up any resistance.

"All right, but don't worry him. It might still be nothing at all."

"As long as you go to the doctor," I said.

"I will."

I rose and hurried down to tell Daddy Mother had agreed to go to the doctor, but I didn't keep my promise. I told him why she was so nervous. He turned pale and called Doctor Covington immediately.

"He says he was after her to come in. My God, she said nothing. I should have been more concerned with her failing health."

"As long as she's going now, Daddy."

"What? Oh, the doctor says it's better for us to bring her to the hospital immediately, especially after what you said about the lump growing larger. He'll check her in and give her tests there," Daddy concluded.

"I'll get her ready," I said and hurried toward the stairway just as Belinda had come down.

"We're taking Mother to the hospital," I told her. She was half out the door.

"Oh, why?"

"She has a lump on her breast. That's why she's been so nervous lately."

"A lump? Why would she have a lump? Ugh."

"Sometimes it's nothing serious, but many times it's cancer," I said.

"Cancer?" She thought a moment and then asked, "What's going to happen?"

"She has to be examined, tests have to be done."

"Oh. Well, what should I do?"

"Do what you think you should do," I retorted and went upstairs to help get Mother ready.

Belinda went to her friend's home, but left word with Daddy that she would call the hospital from there and then come over if necessary. The weather turned bad so quickly, however, we were lucky to get Mother to the hospital. The rain came down in rolling sheets and turned the sky leaden. It was still raining hard when Belinda finally did call. Daddy told her to stay where she was. That, I assured him, didn't break Belinda's heart.

But it really was raging outside. The wind had trees so far bent over, branches cracked. Traffic came to a standstill. The sky turned darker and darker until it looked like an eclipse. Then the rain continued, now falling in shelves of cold, icy drops that splattered against windows and thumped on walls and roofs. Lights blinked on and off. Everyone was scurrying about, agitated by the fierceness of the storm.

Fortunately, Doctor Covington had gotten to the hospital just five minutes before we had arrived, and was there to oversee Mother's admittance.

Doctor Covington had just turned sixty, but still had a full head of what Mother called chameleon hair. In the daylight or bright lights, his hair looked amber, but at night or in subdued light, it looked dark brown. He had been our family doctor for as long as I could remember. A soft-spoken man of few words, he was nevertheless firm and decisive when he made a diagnosis or prescribed a treatment. I remember thinking he had the perfect temperament and disposition for a doctor: confident to the point of being arrogant, but because of that, you felt safe, felt you were in good hands. There was no room for democracy when it came to evaluating health. I told that to Belinda once when she complained about Doctor Covington being too cold.

"He's got microscopes for eyes and a thermometer in every finger," she whined. She was only about twelve at the time, and I thought she was funny. "Stop laughing. He doesn't have blood in his veins. He's got cough syrup."

"You don't have to like him, Belinda. He's not running for any popularity awards. You don't take votes. You listen and you do what he tells you to do."