Golden

By Sandra O Ferraro

After being diagnosed with multiple sclerosis and then realizing that she and her husband, Royce, are faced with many more problems and difficulties, Ella retreats to a place where she can rest her mind for the afternoon. At her parents home, she picks up a book of thoughts to read and reflect on. But inside of the book, there is a very unexpected surprise, which has the effect of taking Ella on a mind journey back in time to the World War II era. During this journey, she recalls the events surrounding the life and struggles of her younger sister Goldy, and these recollections become nearly a transcendent experience for her. By the end of the afternoon, she is inspired with the understanding of how fleeting and how precious life is, and she has a new resolve to face her challenges with patience and grace as she continues on in this circle of life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 20, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546223320

Sandra O Ferraro

Sandra O. Ferraro has always had a great interest in reading and literature. Her love of reading and academia lead her to become a teacher specializing in reading instruction at the elementary, and then at the University level. Her love of reading also fostered a desire to write, and she has had poetry and a professional article published, but this is her first novel. She resides in sunny Southern Utah, along with her husband, children, and grandchildren.

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© 2018 Sandra O. Ferraro. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 08/24/2018

ISBN: 978-1-5462-2306-1(sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-2332-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017919657

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter 1     Pressed Flowers

Chapter 2     Grandparents

Chapter 3     Goldy

Chapter 4     Forbidden Flowers

Chapter 5     Polio

Chapter 6     The War

Chapter 7     Casualties of War

Chapter 8     Rheumatic Fever

Chapter 9     A Little Angel

Chapter 10   Lullaby and Goodnight

Chapter 11   Circle of Wildflowers and Circle of Life

This book is dedicated to all the people I love, past, present, and those who may come in the future, but especially, to Mom, Dad, and Patty.

With special thanks to my family, and to Linda Galloway and Wesley Smith for their help.

It should be noted that this story is a fictionalized account of true events.

CHAPTER 1

Pressed Flowers

I hate waiting at the doctor’s office, and especially today when I’m waiting to finally find out what may be wrong with me. To find out what may be the cause of my recent sudden loss of visual acuity and the weakness in my right arm and hand. I really hate waiting here. It makes me nervous. I just want to go out the door and go home to my place of comfort and forget that there’s anything wrong. But I guess that would be hard to do. I’ve been struggling with my health for the past several years. And just as I get on top of one health problem, something else goes wrong, and I think I’m just too young to be feeling this way. But now it seems there may be something seriously wrong. It has been two months of poking and prodding and of having blood tests and brain scans. And now the diagnosis is finally in.

Ella. I hear someone call my name, and I look up to see the nurse standing by the door leading back to the examining rooms. It’s my turn. I have to get up now and walk over there, which I muster the nerve and strength to do. The nurse smiles at me, and I smile back as she directs me to the room where I will do some more waiting.

The doctor will be with you shortly, the nurse says as she closes the door and leaves me feeling as if I’m waiting to be sentenced.

Oh, where is Royce? I’m thinking. Why isn’t he here yet? Maybe he’s caught in traffic. I’m sure he’ll be here. There’s no way he’d stand me up. We both know this is too important.

With nothing else to do, I glance around the room and my eyes stop on a picture that is hanging on the wall. I find myself staring and being drawn into this painting. It’s a painting of a small ship and a large iceberg all alone in the middle of the vast sea. The painting is beautiful, but it haunts me. At this moment I feel as alone as that ship with some huge foreboding danger ready to overpower me.

Suddenly the door opens, and the doctor who is the bearer of my fate enters.

Ella, how are you? he asks.

Doing fine I suppose. I manage to reply.

Where’s Royce, won’t he be here?

Oh, I’m sure he’ll be here any minute. Maybe he’s caught in traffic, I say trying to mask my own concern. With all of my recent testing, my husband and I have come to be well acquainted with this particular doctor. Royce and Dr. Shaw have struck up a bit of a relationship.

Well, should we give him a few more minutes? Dr. Shaw asks.

Sure, that’s fine I reply. And with that the doctor leaves me alone again.

I really want to get this over with. Why isn’t Royce here? My eyes find the painting again, which reminds me of my solitude, and so I decide to close them and just lean my head back against the wall behind me. A minute later, my husband, Royce, and Dr. Shaw both walk through the door bantering back and forth about something. I glance up at Royce catching his eye and he gives me an apologetic look. But then, Dr. Shaw invites him to sit down and so there’s no time for explanation. And here we are, Royce and me, and Dr. Shaw, ready for the showdown.

As the doctor begins to explain the results of the tests, I feel myself detaching, wanting to float out of the room, wanting not to be there. Royce reaches for my hand, and when the final diagnosis is spoken he squeezes it really tight and bows his head as if he’s trying to bear up under a blow. But, it is only what I’ve been expecting. Of course, I’ve been hoping it wouldn’t be true, wouldn’t be the case, but a degenerative demyelanating disease is what I’ve been expecting. Multiple Sclerosis. I’ve prepared myself for it, or at least I thought I had. But it is a blow, a big blow, and I feel the inner fear and hurt starting to well up inside of me.

How will I cope with this? I still have children to raise. How do I raise children from a wheelchair? And then I hear the words of hope.

We don’t know how severe your case will be, the doctor says. It’s possible that your symptoms may be mild and you’ll be able to carry on a relatively normal life.

Oh, thank goodness, I’m thinking. There’s some hope. And then I hear the doctor say that only time will tell. Okay, only time will tell. I’ll hold on to that.

Let me take you to lunch, Honey Royce says in a sympathetic voice as we walk out to the car.

Sure, I say, I’d like that.

But, during lunch, over my soup and salad, and Royce’s french dip sandwich with au jus, as we try to avoid talking about my problem, we end