Welcome to the World, Baby Girl!

The Captive

Houston, Texas

February 10, 1976

After Dena had been in the hospital for a few days she began to feel better, and anxious to get out and back on tour. Dr. DeBakey had come to see her every afternoon, and when he came in today, she explained to him why he had to let her out to pick up the rest of the cities. He took her hand. “Honey, I know you are disappointed you can’t go back to work. You feel a little better so you think you’re ready to get up and start running again. I’ve heard it from my patients more times than I can tell you. How they can’t stop now, how they have to keep going till they get that job, that money or success or whatever it is they are running after, but let me tell you something: nothing is worth ruining your health. Most of my patients are sent to me after their doctors have given up on them. If you could see what I see when I open them up … I’ve had some of the richest, most powerful people in the world right here, movie stars, tycoons, kings, begging me to save them, but it’s too late. Believe me, nothing in the world is really important except life and death and that’s it.”

Dena did not give up. “I understand that and I will take it easy from now on, but you don’t understand how important this tour is; the network is counting on me. I made a commitment. I can’t let them down.”

“Let me tell you something.” He smiled. “Those people in New York may try and make you think they can’t do without you but they can. Take some advice from an old man—no amount of success is worth pushing yourself like you are doing. When you came in here your blood count and your blood pressure were so low I don’t know how you were able to stand, much less give a speech. I’m not trying to scare you, but I can promise you if you keep on going like you have been, you won’t live another five years. This flare-up is a warning that your body just cannot go on at this pace. And once you do permanent damage, you can’t get your health back. You have to slow down right now, before it’s too late. I called your family and Mr. and Mrs. Warren have already made arrangements to come here on Thursday with a car and take you home and look after you for a while.”

Dena was alarmed. “What?”

“The dietician gave instructions to Mrs. Warren as to what you can eat.”

“Dr. DeBakey, you don’t understand—I don’t even know these people. I mean, not well. We are related … but I can’t go home with them.”

“Oh … I see. Do you have other family?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“No, you can’t. You are going to need someone to prepare all your meals, keep people away from you, not let you use the phone. Now, you can stay in the hospital here with us or you can let me arrange to hire a twenty-four-hour-a-day nurse and put you in our aftercare clinic; that’s up to you. But one way or another, you have got to rest.”

“Why can’t I rest in New York?”

“I don’t want you anywhere near New York for at least three weeks. It’s not that I don’t trust you, young lady, it’s those people you work for I don’t trust. Now, you decide.”

And so on Thursday afternoon Dena found herself wrapped in a blanket, lying in the backseat of a brown and tan Oldsmobile, on her way to Elmwood Springs, Missouri, while Norma happily chatted nonstop through the entire state of Texas and on into Missouri about people Dena did not know or care to know, for that matter. She was too busy plotting her escape.