A TWO PART BOOK - Fiction: The Monster Within & Non Fiction: Autoimmune Disease

By Sheldon Cohen M.D. FACP

THE BOOK IS IN TWO PARTS:

1. FICTION TALE INVOLVING AN EXTREMELY RARE AUTOIMMUNE DISEASE AND THE PHYSICIANS, PATIENT AND FAMILY'S FRUSTRATION IN MAKING A DIAGNOSIS, AND

2. NON FICTION DETAILING THE LAST 60 PLUS YEARS OF THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE CONCEPTS OF AUTOIMMUNITY AND AUTOIMMUNE DISEASE.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBookIt.com
• Release date: Apr 26, 2016
• ISBN: 9781456623944

Book preview

Future

PROLOGUE

This is a two part book:

Part 1 describes a fictional account of a very rare and unusual autoimmune disease.

Part II is a copy of another short book I have written which details and defines autoimmune diseases, an important sixty plus year old concept still not completely understood

PART 1

CHAPTER 1

Morton Grove, Illinois is a near northwest suburb of Chicago principally consisting of mid-priced single-family homes, condominiums and small apartment buildings. Living in the tree-lined suburb in one of those bigger single family homes and married twenty years, Ezra and Alvina Richards were blessed with three children: Betty, just turned 18, is 5 foot 4 inches tall, trim, brown haired like her father, a hazel eyed comely young lady soon to graduate from Maine East High School in Park Ridge, an adjacent suburb to Morton Grove. The two other children are 14 year old twins Ethan and Emily in the freshman class at Maine East both of whom were already two inches taller than their sister with black hair like their mother and completely dissimilar in appearance.

A happy and successful family, they did not have a care in the world, but were soon to confront a tragedy of epic proportions with which none of them were prepared to cope nor could they possibly hope to understand.

While raising their three children, the Richard’s family had everything they needed within a mile radius of their triple level, four-bedroom home. A large shopping center supplying their every need was within a half mile; school was only one mile away and if the weather was good the children would often walk the distance at a rapid pace encouraged by their father, a devotee of early rising and frequent morning exercise.

This was a busy time; Betty was in frantic preparation for the Maine East senior prom. She had no problem getting a date as she had been going steady with a fellow classmate, Steve Winokur, ever since their freshman year. Prom night was tonight, and Betty would soon have to get presentable.

Don’t forget, Betty, you have to promise me that if Steve can’t drive, you’ll call us any hour of the day or night and we’ll pick you up, said Alvina with a worried look on her face. She could relate to her daughter as she too had a high school sweetheart, Ezra, her future husband. Their marriage was a happy one and it rubbed off on their three children. Alvina was 5 feet and six inches tall and was able to wear the same clothes that she wore in high school gaining nary a pound since her wedding twenty years ago probably a reflection of her athletic husband’s compulsion to exercise and imbibe in a strict Mediterranean diet that their children knew by heart, grew up with and reaped its benefits.

Got to be careful, Betty thought; mom’s got her serious face on. What do you mean, if Steve can’t drive? she asked shaking her head.

Well, if he’s had too much to drink, I mean…

Betty interrupted with a large sigh, But I told you, mom, for the fifth time, Steve doesn’t ever touch a drop.

As if Alvina didn’t hear a thing, she said, But I’m told that prom night is different. That’s when the drinking starts, so I’ve heard. You’d have to call us because we don’t want you driving his car and we wouldn’t want him driving if he had something to drink, especially as a non-drinker who takes his first drink. Teen agers don’t hold their liquor very well. I read about it all the time in the newspapers; too many accidents out there. You know how I worry.

I know mom, how can I ever forget since I live with you and hear you worrying every day, Ms. worry wort. I think you told me ten times already. Anyhow, I remember once when Steve tasted some drink or other, he said yuck and that was the end of that experiment. I never had anything but a little wine. Where would I be able to get alcohol, since I just turned 18? I’ve never even been in a liquor store or in a bar anyplace and I wouldn’t want to go.

"Well it’s senior prom you know, and I read all about how kids drink it up on senior prom night. Now’s time to try a little alcohol, you know. In fact, it’s supposed to be like a rite of passage, so they tell me.

Who is…they? asked Betty.

They—are other parents and friends. I hear it all the time. And I read about it, and it scares me to death.

Betty’s mother, Alvina, was a worrier and Betty learned over the years, whenever her mother started talking in that concerned tone of voice together with that frown, it was best to listen carefully and be patient. Let her say her thing and give her as much reassurance as she could. She learned that from her dad who reminded her of her mother’s loss of an older brother to a drunken driver when she was just twelve years old. It hit her very hard, Betty, he would say. It doesn’t hurt to give her all the comfort you can, otherwise I’ll have to do it when you leave and I won’t do as good a job as you could do if she hears it from you. That’ll make her feel good. You really could ease her mind with calm and sensible talk. Do it for me, Betty, please."

Yes, dad, I will, you have my word on it, she would reassure her father with a smile. He was a tower of strength to Betty, standing five feet eleven inches, 180 pounds, slim and very muscular, brown hair balding slowly, forty-five years old, and blue eyes. He had a remarkably calm demeanor most of the time, but could emote loudly with passion when the occasion presented itself. The owner of two successful gas stations in the northwest suburbs of Chicago close to their Morton Grove home made it very convenient to get to work, not to mention the better than excellent gas and car maintenance prices for the family.

Alvina, a housewife and mother busy raising three children including Betty was a stay-at-home mother, planning to work again only after her children grew up. Then maybe I’ll get back to work in real estate—if anyone would have an old lady, that is.

Alvina was an attractive woman of 42 years, five foot and five inches, one inch taller than her daughter Betty, 130 pounds, blond hair like Betty, brown eyes, high cheekbones, and a beautiful smile, which when it occurred, made a sudden startling contrast to her mostly serious looking face. She and Betty had such a similar appearance that they often were mistaken for sisters, which was sure to bring a smile to Alvina’s face and a frown on Betty’s.

Oh, mom, I guess you’ll never ever stop worrying. I promise you that I won’t even take a taste—if there is any there and, from what I’m told, there won’t be. I’m serious; this is supposed to be an alcohol-free prom.

I hope you’re right, but anyhow don’t take any drink from strangers even if it’s a soft drink. I read how kids sometimes spike drinks with roofies, whatever that is. I think it knocks girls out and you know what some people will do when that happens.

Yes, mom, I promise no roofies, whatever they are, and I’ll never take a drink from someone I don’t know.

And please don’t drive with any driver who’s been drinking.

No way, mom, that’s stupid, said Betty as she could see her mother visibly relax. And do me a favor, mom, when Steve comes, please don’t give him the same third degree, she said with an audible sigh.

I promise I won’t, and I’m sure I wouldn’t have to because I bet his mom or dad already gave him the third degree, said Alvina with her quick smile. Then she added, And knowing Steve’s mom, I’m sure of it.

That smile meant mom was reassured by what I told her, thought Betty as she smiled to herself thinking dad would be proud of me. I better go upstairs and get dressed, she said. Steve will be here in about a half hour.

Ezra Richards came home shortly after Betty went upstairs. Is Betty still here, he asked.

Yes, she just went upstairs to get dressed, said a smiling Alvina.

The smile was reassuring to Ezra. He knew what that meant. Oh great, I can’t wait to see her in that beautiful gown you guys got and I’m ready to get pictures of the princess.

She’ll be down soon, I’m sure. Do you want something to eat? asked Alvina.

No thanks. Not now. I want to be able to concentrate on Betty when she comes down. I’ve got pictures to take of my little girl…all grown up. I can’t believe it. Didn’t we bring her home from the labor and delivery room just a few months ago?

That sounds about right, said Alvina. Your daughter is a beauty. I’m not prejudiced of course, and I want to see the expression on your face when you see her in that gorgeous prom dress that she kept hidden from you, said Alvina with her radiant smile.

Ezra smiled back at Alvina, understanding that if that smile was there, Alvina was relaxed and content and any worries that she may have expressed to Betty about prom dangers were addressed and taken care of by Betty. That’s my daughter, he thought. Where’s Ethan and Emily? asked Ezra.

Alvina said, They’re upstairs, but they said they want to see Betty all dressed up too, so I’m sure they’ll be down soon.

Where has the time gone? asked Ezra.

Wish I knew, answered Alvina with a sigh. Then the rear door bell rang.

Must be Steve, said Alvina.

I’ll get it, said Ezra as he jumped up from his chair like the graceful athlete and three sport letter man he had been in his younger high school days. He walked to the kitchen to open the door leading to the driveway where most people entered the house. Steve was standing on the back step, five foot and ten inches, chiseled facial features, trim, replete in black tuxedo, wrist corsage for Betty in hand and looking very handsome and clean shaven.

Hello, Steve, You’re sure lookin’ good, no stubble and all. Ready for the big night? asked Ezra.

Yes sir, answered Steve in his usual polite manner.

Steve’s politeness, manifested by the yes sir and yes ma’am were what impressed Ezra the most. When he first met Steve and heard them, his first question was—even though it was impossible for Steve to have served since he was only fifteen years old—It sounds like you’ve been in the military, Steve. You don’t hear the yes sir and yes ma’am from civilian kids, so when I hear it I always have to ask, have you been in the military?

Yes, sir, I’m an army brat, sir, my father was in the army for twenty years, sir.

Ezra