Heqet
The Frog Girl
Sometimes in life
amidst the tangled web of existence an odd turn of events mangles
what should have been a simple, routine and pleasant moment of
childhood. A young girl enamored with all things amphibian ( toad
and frogs, etc.) would soon have her idealistic, small stream
collection activities hurled furiously into the uncharted.
It was a wonderful
Saturday day in the Sheehan household. Dan the father had just got
promoted, Mary the mother had received tenure as a 8th
grade science teacher in the public school system. Bills were being
paid, vacations planned and the road to happiness seemed to emanate
from their driveway to the world. Dan and Mary have two children
Michael, 14 at 14 and Molly, 12. They live in a two story brick
house in Sewickley , PA a small Borough just north pf Pittsburgh
Pennsylvania on a cul de sac street. Their lot is tree lined and has
a lovely narrow brook that crosses along the rear property line.
This is where Molly spends most of her time.
And where a fissure
in the universe appears.
It is supper time. “
Molly, give those frogs a break. Come on in , wash up its time for
supper, “ the mother calls.
Molly is fixated on
her frog catching activity. She has a red pail with a fine screened
fishing net at the ready. “ I almost have a new one!” she says. “
Just a moment mommy.”
“ Now, honey , Dad
will be home in a few minutes and he’s taking Michael to soccer.
The frogs will be there tomorrow. I promise.”
“OK” Molly drops
her utensils and runs towards the back door. She heads for the sink,
washes her hands and sits at the assembled table next to her brother
. Dan arrives home and he and Mary serve dinner.
“ Well Molly our
resident herpetologist how was your day?” The father asks.
“ It was great! I
caught some new frogs and a toad peed-ed on me.” Everyone laughed.
Molly, the mother
notes: “ Do you know the derivative of the word herpetologist?”
Yes, its’ from the Greek word “ to creep.”
Michael says: “
Now that’s creepy!”
The mother looks
over at Molly’s right hand. “ What is that?” Molly : What? “
On your hand , is that a bruise ? “ She takes Molly’s hand and
looks more closely. There is a small brown abrasion on Molly’s
right index finger knuckle. “ I think it ‘s wart.”
“ A wart?” Dan
interjects . “Kids don’t get warts.”
"Maybe its all
from the frogs she’s handling.” Michael laughs.
Molly states
emphatically that it is an old myth that frogs cause warts. And that
the myth probably arose from the fact the certain frogs and toads
have skin bumps that look like warts. No, warts are a human virus and
can be treated.
“Well maybe we
should take Molly to the dermatologist for a check-up,” Dan
suggests.
Molly stops eating
and stares at her hand. “ A wart uh? A badge of honor for a
herpetologist.” Everyone laughs.
The next morning
Molly is out the back door and at the edge of the brook where she
nets a small deep green frog. She plops the frog into the pail, adds
some water and some algae andcaps the pail with the net so the frog
can’t jump out. The frog furiously unhinges its rear legs and
catapults itself high into the net. Again and again.
“ Molly. Jesus,
are you at it again, so soon? Some on in and have breakfast.” Her
mother calls.
Michael says: “
Molly, is that another wart on you right hand?” All eyes zoom to
Molly’s hand and sure enough another measurable skin contusion has
appeared, this time on Molly’s right thumb knuckle.
“ Jesus, “ the
mother inspects and exclaims. “ Maybe we should take Molly to a
dermatologist.”
“ Are the frogs
causing these?” Molly asks.
Mary laughs. “ No
just a happenstance event. But we’ll get them OK’d” Later that
day Mary Googles warts and sought out home remedies. The list was
long and kinda comical; rub wart with garlic; cover with a paste of
baking powder and caster oil; crush vitamin C tablets and cover; soak
in pineapple juice. Mary wonders: where can you buy Cater Oil?
Wegmans?
Latter that day,
Molly and her mother are reading together when Mary spots another
wart , this time on Molly’s left hand’s index finger knuckle. She
began to wonder and worry. Could Molly have an invasive human
virus? If so, how, why? A trip to a dermatologist was in order.
Molly and her mother
arrived at the doctor’s office later Monday afternoon. Dr Wells,
the dermatologist, inspected Molly’s hands. Two more warts had
appeared. There were now 5 measurable warts.
No family history?
None. No family vacations to third world nations? Please. Hard to
account for this level of infections in a young girl. Very strange.
“Let’s do some blood work and in the meantime lets’ get this
prescription filled: it contains salicylic acid but a much stringer
dose that over the counter products. If this doesn’t help we can
always freeze them off with liquid nitrogen. But we need to find out
what is causing this outbreak. I want to see Molly in two weeks. If
those contusions worsen and I mean increase in numbers ,call me
right away.”
In the span of three
days, Molly had sprouted four more warts all on her hand knuckles.
The father became alarmed. “ We have to call the doctor. This is
not normal. What about the blood work. Have we heard?” All
conversations were secreted away from Molly.
The phone rang it
was the doctor’s office. As soon as Dan got home Mary was at the
door. “ He want to see us right away. We have an appointment for
tomorrow @ 8:30.” OK I’ll call work, Dan replied.
They arrived at the
Doctor’s lobby were immediately escorted to the his office. The
Dr. held a manila legal size file. And after greetings, the Dr.
closed the door and seemed to hesitate as he walked back behind his
desk.
“I’m in
uncharted waters here ,” the Dr. began, “ We have Molly’s blood
work and well there’s an issue, that as of now I am unfamiliar
with. I’ve ordered more exacting tests of Molly’s blood and have
requested consultations with a Hematologist.”
“ A blood
specialist?” asked Dan “ Is Molly sick?”
“ Ah no, no,
please don’t raise unnecessary alarms.” He said in a soft
re-assuring voice. The Dr. spread out (3) 8”x 11” colored slides
of what appeared to blood cells. Dan and Marty bumped up against the
desk staring down at the exhibits.
Pointing to the
exhibits with a pencil erasure the Dr. said:. “This is one of
Molly’s red blood cells. Do you see the dark dot in the center of
the cell? “
“ I see it, yes I
do, “ Mary said.
“That dark dot is
a nucleus. Mrs. Sheehan, human red blood cells do not contain a
nucleus.” Silence gripped the office. The Sheehan’s were
speechless. The Dr. was speechless. All three sat staring at the red
blood cell and that damn tiny spot in it’s center. Suddenly an
intercom rang.
“ Dr. ...”
“ I asked that
no...”
The voice
proclaimed: “ It’s Dr. Barnstardt.”
“Oh, please put
him through.”
The connection was
crystal clear. “ Hello Dr. Wells....” There was a measurable
pause in Barnstardt's voice. “ Are we alone?”
“ No the patient’s
mother and father are sitting here with me. The three of us want to
hear what your findings are.” Dan and Mary nodded agreement.
“ Dr Wells, I…
I… well first thing first: where were these blood samples taken?”
“ Right here in
this office. Control of the ownership chain was rock solid.” Dr
Wells stated.
Barnstardt: “ Very
well. So there is zero chance of any contamination?”
“ None. Zero. But
Jesus you never know.”
Barnstardt: “ Very
well . The blood samples I evaluated contain...” his voice trailed
off. ” Dr. Wells, perhaps we should consult with each other before
we discuss this matter with the parents.”
Dan ‘s voice began
to quiver, his lower lip sputtering. “ Doctors we are here, that’s
our little girl and we are hear for answers.” He seemed to clench
his fist and Mary rubbed his shoulder.
Barnstardt: “
Folks I’ve never seen human blood like this before. Ever. Not at
Harvard Medical where I interned, not at John Hopkins where I did my
medical studies. There had to have been contamination, Dr Wells.
Before we proceed with any further diagnosis, I’d request the
patient come to our hospital offices and let’s do some more blood
tests but under a more controlled procedure. The blood showed no
trace of a buffered tri-sodium citrate solution that I think should
be employed . “
Dr Wells: “ Folks,
Dr Barnstardt and his team are the best there is. Lets get our little
girl over there as soon as possible.”
Mary spoke first. “
The scientific method of investigations should be followed. Lets get
Molly into Dr Barnstardt’s offices and go from there.”
Dan asked:” Is
Molly sick? And if so what is her prognosis? I mean how is she sick?
As of this moment what does the blood analysis reveal? “ There was
silence .“ SOMEONE SPEAK UP!”
Barnstardt: “ I
think, Dr Wells, that there had to have been some sort of
contamination of the patient’s blood sample. There just has to have
been, damn it.” His voice, too was rising.
Mary thought:
Throughout all this conversation , I sense that the doctor’s are
fraught with worry. There’s a palatable tension in the room. And it
is not coming from Dan or myself.
It was decided that
Molly would be taken to Barnstardt’s offices the day after
tomorrow where a more thorough and chain of command sample
evaluation would be undertaken.
“ Thank you Dr
Barnstardt.”
And as Dan and Mary
headed towards the office door. Dan turned and looked at Dr Wells. “
Dr you were going to tell us what those dark spots in Molly’s red
blood cells were. I know you were.”
Dr Wells shuffled
his feet, stared down at the exhibits. “ I’m not an expert, but
those red blood cells on these images appear to have amphibian
characteristics.”
“ Say what?”
Dan and Mary both called out in unison. “ Amphibian
characteristics? WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN?”
Dr Wells: “ Those
red blood cells with the nucleus are the cells of a frog.
Contamination is the only reasonable answer. Good day and we’ll see
you soon.” He took a breath. “ Dr Barnstardt will resolve this
matter, I promise.”
On the ride home,
Dan spoke first. “ Jesus, does Wells have a blood collection and
diagnosis contract with an aquarium?”
Mary sat silent and
did not let on to Dan what she had witnessed the previous Sunday
night.
In the days before
the appointment with Dr Barnstardt, more warts were observed on
Molly’ s hands. By the night before the appointment every finger
on Molly’s hands had a wart , some fingers especially the index
fingers had two or three. Molly didn’t seemed to mind, though.
Michael noted this
behavior and asked Molly why she wasn’t worried or embarrassed
about the warts. They certainly were noticeable.
“ I don’t know,
“ Molly answered, staring at her hands and the warts. “ I don’t
know why.”
Mary sat at the
kitchen table . “ Molly make sure you get a good night’s sleep ,
we have a big day tomorrow with ice cream at the end.” She stared
at Molly’s eyes.
“ Molly, look at
me.” Molly looked at her. “ Your eyes, why… there not blue any
more. Huh? They are green and your pupil ...”
When they arrived at
Dr Barnstardt's office a team of white coated personnel were at the
glass door entrance to greet them. “ We are the Sheehan family.”
Yes we know someone spoke and soon the team was surrounding Mary ,
Dan and Molly. The closed circle began moving the Sheehans out of
the lobby and through white doors and down a bright corridor and
into a laboratory room.
Drs Barnstardt and
Wells soon came into the room. “ Good morning Molly and mom and
dad, we are happy you are here and we are anxious to get you home.”
Dr Barnstardt smiled.
“ Mommy, why
aren’t I scared? I should be , shouldn’t I?” Molly asked.
Dr Wells spoke: “
Of course not Molly, you are an expert in giving blood!” Everyone
laughed.
Dr Wells led Molly
to a Guernsey where a nurse propped Molly’s head on a pillow,
draped her with warm, white quilted blankets and brought her right
arm out from under the blanket. He and Barnstardt slipped on vinyl
gloves. Wells drew a rolling table near to Molly’s arm and
adjusted the table height. All the while Dr Barnstardt was buying
himself collected empty vials from voluminous shelves. Each vial had
a different colored cap; blue, red, purple ( 2 caps), white.
Dr Barnstardt placed
the vials on the table aside of Molly . “ How come they have have
different colors?” Molly asked.
“ Well each color
means that when we take a tiny drop of your blood , we’ll be sure
that we take as little as possible. Because your blood is precious!
Normally we have a phlebotomist do this procedure, folks, but Dr
Wells and I thought we’d collect Molly’s blood and get the three
of you home right away. I hear that ice cream is in store for you,
no?”
“ Yes,” Molly
smiled. Dr Wells glanced down at Molly’s hand as Barnstorm poked to
find a service vein on the underside of her arm adjacent to the elbow
area. He counted the warts that have appeared since her last visit.
He drew a heavy breath and glanced around hoping no one had heard
him.
The doctor strapped
a small tourniquet above Molly’s elbow and began tapping her arm
for a suitable vein. “ Well Molly, here’s a strong vein. Strong
like you!” And with that Dr Barnstardt pricked her skin. “ Molly
if this needle was any more smaller I’d need a microscope to see
it. Right? We call it a #22; someday you’ll be 22.”
All five vials were
filled to their pre determined levels, gauze pad and tape placed on
Molly’s arm.
Mary pulled Dr
Barnstardt to the side. She whispered: “ Check out her eyes. They
look strange.” Barnstardt smiled and tapped Molly’s hand while
staring into her eyes. His face turned ashen. Molly’s pupils
appeared to becoming oval shaped.
Dr Wells walked them
to the entrance door . “ I’ll call with the results as soon as we
have them,” he smiled. Bending down to Molly: “ And you little
brave girl, enjoy that ice cream”
Four days passed.
Then five. Mary was anxious, Dan was getting upset, Michael was
hungry and Molly was outside playing along the stream bank. “ I
would like to collect all the frogs I find, but that wouldn’t be
right, “ Molly thought. “ I have to feed them , too. What would
I feed them? Flies? How would I catch a live fly?” Suddenly a
common house fly landed on her knee and in a flash of a millisecond
Molly scooped-it up into the palm of hand and then pondered: Now how
did I do that?
Later that day Mary
and Molly were sitting on the back porch. “ Molly I watched you
playing in the yard a while back and I saw you jumping.”
“ Ma all kids like
to jump.”
“ But you weren’t
jumping like a little girl, you were really jumping. I mean high
in the air!”
“ Oh
Mommy, I was
just playing leap frog.”
The phone rang. It
was Dr. Barnstardt. “ Do you need a babysitter for your children?
We’d like to meet with you and your husband as soon as you can
arrange. Tomorrow morning, say 8:30AM?””
They arrived at
Barnstardt’s office at 8:15 and were immediately escorted down the
hallway and into Barnstardt's office where they were greeted by four
personnel; Barnstardt, Wells and two women clad in white medical
cloaks. All four had name tags clasped to their collars.
“ Folks these two
doctors are from the Nation’s offices of the Center for Disease
Control and Prevention. They specialize in well, unique cases of ...”
His voice trailed off. “ Of... Dr Heilman ...”
One of the women
stepped forward. She was tall, angular and about 50 years of age
with reddish hair, slightly streaked with gray worn as a bun atop her
head. In a stern, pointed almost mathematical manner, she began: “
Mr and Mrs Sheehan, we were called by Dr Barnstardt because we
specialize in potential communicative blood- borne diseases that may
constitute what we in the profession call: surpassing the species
barrier. That is a mingling of differing species... . “ She
stopped and looked to the to the woman jotting notes. “ Blood.
Molly , somehow, some way, under some almost unimaginable situation
has amphibian blood in her body and those amphibian blood cells are
co-mingling with Molly’s.”
No one gathered said
a word.
Mary began to cry,
softly at first and then a constant heaving of her chest. “ Well
what is the prognosis? Is she going to turn into a half human/half
frog freak show item?”
Dr Wells spoke: “
Oh my , Mary , there isn’t a scintilla of that outcome. We just
think a parasite or something similar somehow entered her system- a
scratch, a bruise any ripple on the skin...”
“ Like a wart,”
Mary proposed almost randomly. There was silence.
Dr Heilman: “
Here’s what we want to do. Place Molly in an isolation room under
our supervision for a period of time….”
“ How long? School
comes back to session in about 4 weeks. And where is this room? Who
is in charge? ” Mary snapped. “ Dr Barnstardt, are you OK with
this? Is there a danger to Molly?”
Dr Barnstardt: “
Yes I think this is the best approach for Molly’s sake. He
proceeded to discuss what the professions calls: a cytokine storm.
This occurs when a virus ( non
human as from a bat or mosquito) has entered the human body and our
immune system immediately begins to confront the invading virus,
and becomes hyper-activated and instead of killing the virus it
actually harms the patient.
“ And
Molly seems just fine. Like a normal 12 year old. So we don’t see
this as a similar medical condition. Which has given us great
relief.” Dr Heilman
smiled.
Mary
looked to Dan. “ Dan what do you think?”
Dan
brought his right hand out
towards the assembled doctors palm
side down. “ I think this
infection approach and its safeguards is correct. Maybe I , too
should be put in isolation. Look.” The doctors crowded around
Dan’s hand. “ Warts,” Dan whispered. Mary
sprang up from her chair stared at Dan’s wart- encrusted hand and
began to sob uncontrollably.
“ This
is a
freaking nightmare!” She
screamed.
Dr.
Heilman: “ Jesus.”
Dr
Barnstardt reached for the intercom. “ Blood station ready- STAT!”
The
blood results determined that Dan , too, had the now familiar black
dot in the center his red blood cells. His blood contained amphibian
blood. Dr Barnstardt
stared at Dan’s eyes. The pupils were clearly becoming oval
shaped.
30
years later.
The
phone rang. “ Hello?”
“
Michael Sheehan?”
“
Yes this is Mike. Can I help you?”
“ Mr.
Sheehan, I am a reporter with the Pittsburgh Post Gazette, Dave
Medine. I am writing a piece
on Doctor William Barnstardt who recently died. Does his name
sound familiar to you?”
Michael
took a breath. “ I guess. Why have you contacted me?”
“
The family has given me full access to all his papers.” The voice
seemed to hesitate to continue. “ Mr. Sheehan the doctor treated
your family many years ago .”
“
But all that’s confidential. Again, how did you find me?” Michael
stood up and began to pace the kitchen.
“The
doctor kept a personal diary and the family has given me full access.
He never used real names, but on page 134 of his diary , he slipped
and alluded to the “Sheehan amphibian dilemma.” The reporter
asked if he wanted Michael to continue. The reported alluded to the
many rumors that circulated those many years ago about a young girl
infected with amphibian blood.
“That’s
bull crap, nonsense and I think I’ll hang up.”
“
WAIT!” the reporter snapped. “ I know the CDC was involved and we
can get a FOIA in a half an hour.”
“
OK, tomorrow , I’ll meet you at the Eat n’ Park on Ohio River
Blvd. 10 AM.”
Michael
somehow sensed a moment of relief, of that seminal weight being
lifted from his shoulders. Should I tell him? But why? For what
purpose? Molly has been through enough. But
so haven’t I, he agreed.
The
reporter stood in the entrance way and watched as Michael pulled into
the lot. The reporter was probably Michael’s age , early 40s,
black parted hair and long sideburns. Hand out stretched, “ Hello
Michael. Thanks for seeing me. “
They
sat at a booth, ordered a cup of coffee. Michael was hesitant. “
I’ve been holding this
nightmare for 30 years. It has ruined my life. I never got married,
never dated really. You confront something so horrible and
unimaginable, well it wrangles your emotions and spirit into mush.”
The
reporter wrote furtively into his lined notebook. “ Nightmare.”
“
Oh yes, that’s the word. But you see, the disease passed me by.
But every morning you look for the signs. You fear looking into a
mirror.” He sipped his coffee. “My mother was also free of the
disease, but she died 9 years ago.”
“
The horror, what was the horror, Michael?”
“ Lets
go for a ride. My car.” They left the restaurant and Michael
opened the passenger door, removing a small white envelope from the
seat. Down Rt 65 and onto Rt 79 north bound heading
for the Meadville exit. As
Michael drove he told the reporter all he could remember; the blood
work, the discovery, the father being infected ; Heilman’s
efforts to find an isolation station near to Mary;
his
father’s death from the
infected blood two years ago.
“ I
couldn’t locate Dr Wells . Heilman
I’ll go through the CDC. “
the reporter said. “ Any clue where I can find
Wells?”
“
No I think they are both dead. I saw quite a bit of Heilman for many
years, then she fell ill and we just lost touch. But I’m sure
that FOIA threat could be used as you delve deeper into this .”
“ Deeper?
I was thinking this ride is just a side bar to Barnstardt’s piece.”
“
Oh Jesus, “ Michael laughed. “ Your ain’t got a clue.”
Michael
turned right towards
Cambridge Springs, onto Rt
86 and drove some miles on narrow lane roadways where he came upon an
unmarked
small stone bed driveway and
wheeled off the road. There
was a 10’ foot tall black iron wrought gate and fence. Michael
stopped and walked to a wireless
communication box. The
gate opened.
They
came upon a small, white brick building with one single 2 foot square
window and a metal front
door. The building only
measured 20 feet wide by 20 feet long with a 12 foot eave.
Michael glanced at the small
white envelope.
“Jesus,
what the hell is this?” the reporter asked.
“ And how did you find this
driveway?”
“ Jonas
Salk had this built in the 1950’s when
he worked on the polio
vaccine. It was his escape
from all things academic . Back
then of course there was only farmland here. “
There
was an electronic key entry box and with a few button pushed, the
door opened. There were two
rooms. One large l- shaped
and then a small room formed by the L shape outline. A
small push of orange light came
from a lamp seated
on a table just to the left of the entrance. The walls were empty,
and a small table with two chairs sat near by.
“Sorry
for the musty-ness.” There was a gurgling sound as though from a
small brook.
“Yea
it stinks in here. What’s in that room? What’s that sound?”
The reporter stomped about. The small room had a small window facing
the larger room. The reporter peered in, cupping his hand around his
eyes. “ Its pitch black
in there. But… I ...there’s
like weeds, grass, running water ,is that a water lily? Is
that something moving? A person?”
Michael
walked over to the small room’s door and unlocked it. Michael
motioned the reporter to the edge of the doorway. “ Someone has
to know, ” Michael whispered. They both hunched over and looked
in.
Out
from the murky darkness came a small child-like hand white in color,
almost pure white. A closer examination revealed delicate webbing
between each finger. Michael reached out his hand and the white
fingers took hold.
“ Molly.”
And at that, an oval shaped skinless head slowly emerged into view.
It’s green, glistening oval
eyes started at the men.
It showed no emotion. The reporter gasped.
It seemed to smile, but its
lips had formed away from the front of the face and towards the
sides. The nose had evolved
into a small, glistening stunted bump on the face but nostrils were
evident. It had no ears
rather round brown spots . Its head
bobbed from side to side as though trying to pull together a
fragmented picture. Its actions
seemed automated. Sporadic twitching movements.
The rest of the body remained
hidden .
“ Can
I say hello?” The
reporter reached
out his hand and the white
webbed fingers rubbed against
his knuckles.
Michael
opened the white envelope and
emptied its contents into the
hand. It was a collection of house flies. The hand and face
receded from view. The gurgling water sound consumed the space.
“ That
was… is my sister . Now there is someone else who knows. I need
help. I worry for the future. She can’t stay here.” Michael now
worried that he may have ignited a fuse.
“
Jesus, God ,” the reporter said rubbing his forehead. “ Jesus.”
End
The
last place on earth you want to be at 5:15 AM on such a sweltering
morning is walking along Beaver Street in Main South Worcester.
My white ( now soiled with print ink) canvas bag is drooped over my
shoulder with a large red “TG” symbol affixed. I think it
measured 2’ wide by 2’deep and when stretched; 2 feet, too. My
drop off point was at the intersection of Main and Beaver streets.
Delivering
newspapers in Worcester is not what is depicted in those 1950’s and
1960’s television shows . There is no Buick station wagon with mom
driving Timmy along his route. There are no folded newspapers held by
an elastic band ready for a straight cast out of the car window as
mom slows down . I remember the videos, the freckled faced boy
arching the bundled paper towards the house; it sails between the
manicured hedges and slowly plops onto the front door’s welcome
mat.
Three
Decker buildings which comprised the majority of my paper route ,
posed their own unique constraints to a speedy delivery You always
delivered the papers from the back of the house. You would grab as
many papers as were to deliver, drop the bag on the sidewalk and head
for the rear of the building. Memory tells me I had many third floor
customers. So up the rear stair well you quietly climb. Light days,
with papers folded you could throw the paper up to the third flood
from the second floor landing. But on heavy days you had walk the
entire length of stairs.
Rain
was not your friend. Snow was not your friend. At the hour of
delivery no sidewalks were plowed, no driveways cleared of snow. You
might as well have been in the Yukon territory. I remember some
mornings my face was so cold and blue-red that I did not get
sensation back to my cheeks until latter that afternoon. I guess only
cool sunny mornings met the agreeable test.
