The IV beeped the new infusion of pain medicine and in seconds a reassuring warm pressure settled in her chest. The terrible aching began to abate—not vanish, it never fully did, but at least lessen. She smiled to herself as Andy’s reassuring voice made it’s way through the haze in her mind. It wasn’t really him, but it was certainly the best part of the morphine.

“Jenn?… Baby?”

I’m dying, Andy. Come and hold me and keep me from dying.

“Jenn?… Can you hear me?”

He was there—really there, gowned and gloved, hair covered and masked and shoes covered. She opened her eyes and blearily saw him standing there, looking like an alien. Had she kissed him for the last time?

“I thought you were in a dream,” she said.

“It’s the morphine. I had some when I had my knee rebuilt. There were times when I considered purposely tearing up the other knee so I could get more. I went into PT instead, and swore off basketball. How’s the arm?”

“On a scale of three, proportional to the number of antibiotics I’m on currently, that would be three. I love you, Andy.”

“I love you, too, baby.”

“Still want to marry me?”

“Of course I want to marry you. More than ever.”

“Even if I only have one arm or no arms, or no arms and no legs?”

“That’s not funny.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just scared. These people are the best doctors in the world and they don’t seem to have any idea what to do. And this arm keeps getting more swollen and more painful. Tomorrow they’re going to have to slit open the skin all the way from my armpit to my fingertips just to keep the pressure of the swelling from killing the muscles and nerves.”

“I’ll check with the nurses and find out what time, and I’ll be with you when they do the procedure. Be strong.”

“It’s Becca. I can’t get her out of my mind.”

“That’s understandable.”

“Sometimes I can actually hear her calling me to come and be with her.”

“That’s just the meds and the pain, honey. You’re going to be all right.”

He didn’t believe it. She could hear it in his voice. He didn’t believe it for a second.

“Andy?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Want to know the worst thing?”

“What’s that?”

“As fast as I’m losing my arm, I’m losing my faith faster.”

Chapter 35

CHAPTER 35

The Social Security Act disembodies us from our pioneering spirit, the very foundation of America, and it shall lead, in no uncertain terms, to new social insurance programs, which ultimately will bankrupt the country sure as the sun shall rise.

—LANCASTER R. HILL, PERSONAL CORRESPONDENCE TO NICOLE SMITH, JUNE 1936

Seven hours.