Loving betrayal

I sat in the barber shop this morning waiting for a haircut. It's been a little over a month and my hair was getting annoyingly long and shaggy. Just to the length where it falls awkwardly down my forehead and the disheveled sides scraggle over my ears, the grey hairs showing through just slightly. The grey hairs are the primary signal that a cut is in order; a fresh cut burying them away for at least another three or four weeks. There was a man sitting in the chair engaged in conversation with the barber. He was in his mid to late thirties, balding slightly with glasses. The barber called him by name as they chatted. His clear blue eyes spoke to me the moment I saw him. There was character in his eyes, a kind purity in them. They talked comfortably with one another; starting with pleasantries, moving to recent comings and goings and then something unexpected. The barber asked about Sarah. Rob's eyes moistened. As he spoke, his eyes seemed to be doing the talking, articulating his every emotion. This was clearly unexpected for the barber as well. The elevated chair, smell of shaving cream and pictures of hot rods hanging on the walls certainly wasn't the place most men, if any, talked about their feelings.
Sarah is two and half years old. She shares her father’s clear blue eyes and bright smile. Like clouds surrounding a rainbow her blonde hair with its darker roots lies softly on her head and falls gently down the sides of her face. She is full of life and into everything. Her mother, frequently reprimanding her for making messes throughout the house, reluctantly scolds her. The innocence in her face cries for mercy. What does a mother say? She wraps up her precious daughter in a loving hug and helps her clean up the mess. A child at this age knows only two things, smiles and tears. There is no greater joy to a parent than to arouse one of those toothy smiles accompanied by an excited giggle. Conversely, you avoid at all costs anything that would tug the tears from those wide, trusting eyes.
Rob’s misty eyes silenced the barber shop. Clearly the barber’s friendly inquiry had incited an unexpected response.
Rob began, “Sarah has had a rough past couple of weeks. She came down with a fever about 3 weeks ago. We took her to the doctor and got some medicine for her. The pediatrician said that she would back to her boisterous self by the end of the week.”
“So what happened?” asked the barber.
“Well, turns out that Sarah is allergic to the medicine we got from the doctor.”
A single tear streamed down his cheek. The guys sitting, waiting for cuts with me sat rigid in their seats. Rob paused in an effort to gather himself.
He continued, “We gave her the medicine and put her to bed. I woke up the next morning and went to work. I had just pulled into the parking lot at the office when my wife called me. I couldn’t understand her at first, her voice was frantic and muffled by tears. I tried calming her. Finally, she spoke clearly. She told me that when she went to wake up Sarah she wasn’t breathing, her face was bluish…”
He broke off again. His emotions were full in his throat, choking out his words. Now there were more than just a few tears coming down his cheeks. The love for his daughter was evident in his tear filled eyes. The barber reached over to the counter and grabbed some tissues. Handing them to Rob he put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him and said quietly, “It’s alright Rob, take your time friend.”
Rob wiped his eyes and cheeks. He put on a brave smile to hide his embarrassment. He cleared his throat and continued, “Thanks Bud. Her face had turned blue and my wife didn’t know what to do. So I rushed home and we raced her to the emergency room. Luckily they were able to resuscitate her quickly before she had any brain damage.”
“That’s a relief!” the barber interrupted.
“I thank God that she’s still alive. At the hospital the doctor informed us of the allergy and told us that they put her in the ICU just to be safe. We expected Sarah to bounce back after a few days in the hospital but after two days things took a turn for the worse.”
“No.”
“The doctors were sure to check her for various other allergies and to be certain that in helping her out of the allergic reaction they didn’t trigger any new reactions. The problem was that they misdiagnosed her fever. Turns out it wasn’t just a regular fever.”
“What was it Rob?”
“I’m not exactly sure, some kind of virus. It started out in her stomach and then it spread. For a week the doctors couldn’t figure it out. My poor Sarah, lying in bed, looked at me one day and asked why her whole body hurt so much. Those trusting little eyes couldn’t hide the pain. She cried often during that week. The blue in her eyes nearly overwhelmed by the surging red from the constant crying. I had to look at my baby girl, and just put my arms around her. I couldn’t say anything to her that she would understand. The doctor walked in at the end of the week with his chart in hand. He told us the nurse would be in soon to administer some medication that would eradicate all of Sarah’s problems. They had finally pinned down the exact virus and had something that would clear everything up.”
“So she’s fine now, huh?”
“Well, she’s back home now; smiling as much as ever, but I’ll tell you what, the hardest thing I’ve had to do in my life happened when that nurse walked into that small hospital room.”
“What happened?”
“My little girl was lying there, holding onto my hand, still red-eyed and scared. The nurse asked her to roll over on her side. She clenched my hand with her little fingers. Her lips were trembling and her eyes begged me to make everything better. I reached down and helped her roll over. She squeezed tighter and some tears of fear started to well up. The nurse pulled out a large needle and bent down to stick my baby. When Sarah saw the needle she cried out. Her screaming pierced me to the center. I wanted to step in front of the nurse, grab the needle and throw it out the window. I wanted to literally shove the nurse down or push her out of the room. What was she trying to do?? Could she not see past her nurses uniform or name tag? Sharon Hicks?? Couldn't she hear my little angel screaming in terror?? Sarah was squeezing my hand so tightly. Her little voice ran shrill as the nurse punctured her skin. She screamed out, ‘Daddy!’ and tears flooded the small hospital pillow. She cried endlessly, her sobs echoing through the small room, betrayal in every choked breath. How could I do this to her, those blue eyes were pleading for an answer. After all the pain she had felt the past week, the trauma, and now I stood by and let a stranger stab her. She rolled over, burying her face in the bed, betrayed by the only faces she really even recognizes, the ones she used to trust. How could she understand that in order to overcome all the pain of the previous week and a half she had to endure this momentary prick? There was no way to tell her, no way to make it better for the teary-eyed beautiful blonde baby of mine.”
The barber placed his hand on Rob’s shoulder. He was in tears again. The barber wiped a tear off of his own cheek. I could see the internal agony surfacing again; the struggle within a man to love someone in painful ways. Tough love. Paternal love.