A Time to Heal - 10. Chapter 10

Izahk had completed four wonderful seasons starring in 'Timmy'. Frank decided to end the American run moving the musical to the West End in London. We had the Summer off to return to our home in the Virginia Mountains. At the party after the final production, Izahk seemed tired. On Sunday morning, I awoke early making my way into the kitchen to prepare his favorite breakfast food..waffles with butter and syrup. "Wake up, Baby, I have your waffles ready". He opened his eyes, but looked so weak. "Are you okay?".

"I am just tired, I think". Then he placed his legs on the floor, trying to stand up but he collapsed on the floor. I helped him get back on the bed. I knew then that he was more than tired..he was so weak. I went immediately to the phone to call Frank.

"Can you come over immediately..something is wrong with Izahk..I am scared..please hurry". Being in the same high-rise, Frank came in our door wearing his pajamas and bathrobe. I think he sensed my urgency. I took him directly to Izahk.

"Hey, boy, I hear you fell" Izahk told him he was just tired. Frank leaned over to touch his face and neck then turned to me, "I want him in the hospital now" He then called his personal physician who agreed to meet us there. Somehow, Frank and I managed to get him there. The doctor examined him carefully ordering a barrage of tests. He spoke with us privately outside his room saying, "The lump that Frank felt on his neck could be lymphoma" Later that day, the doctor came into his room and announced, "I am not going to beat around the bush, Izahk has lymphoma". My heart sunk. Frank looked so sad. Izahk looked scared. "After further testing we will know which type of lymphoma it is". They can be mild or quite virulent. My mind was a racetrack. I sat there holding Izahk's hand hoping for the best yet fearing the worst. Frank began to look so old. He looked like the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders. He asked me to step outside with him for a minute. In the hallway, he looked at me then broke down crying. "I dont want him to die..he is just a boy". By then Izahk was soon to be twenty-five, yet to Frank, he was always a boy. I held Frank closely. 'I am not a religious man, Ray, but I am going to the synagogue to pray". I knew then how upset he was.

The doctor told us the next day that Izahk had the most virulent form of Lymphoma. Frank asked what were his chances of surviving the cancer. He told us that his chances were not good that most of the patients didnt survive it. Frank broke down again. I dont know how, but I seemed to remain strong for both Izahk and my friend of so many years, Frank. They began the chemotherapy and the radiation. I saw my beloved Izahk slowly 'go away'. The combination of the drugs and radiation and the cancer took him from a vibrant, alive young man to a sallow-skinned skeleton with no hair. He was so weak eating nearly nothing, but what little we could feed him with a spoon. A Rock in our life at the time was Mrs. Jackson, the head nurse. She would come into his room every morning saying in her cheerful voice, "And how is my precious baby today". He would manage a faint smile when he saw her and heard her greeting. She would bring him a little food she had prepared at home and gently feed him, "Now, Precious, eat just a little more for me". He would try as weak as he was. I never left his room. I slept in a chair beside his bed holding his weak hand.

Four weeks into the treatment, I was holding his hand seeing him fall into a coma..not sleep, but unresponsive. I knew then that he was going. Again, I dont know where the strength was coming from, but I was not angry, full of self-pity as with Joey's death, but calm. I moved my chair away from his bed kneeling beside his bed with my hand holding his, then laid my face onto his hand to pray. I told God that I accepted what was happening because I knew that seeing him suffer so much was an indescribable torture for him. Then softly I sang. Bring Him Home..the song he had sung for Frank in our parlor. I then kissed his hand softly and lay my head back down on his hand. I must have drifted off to sleep. Sometime later, I heard his voice saying softly, "Mr Branson are you awake". for a moment I thought we were in heaven. I knew that if he died, then I would follow him shortly.

"Yes, Baby, I am awake". I realized we were in the hospital room at the Cancer Center" I looked at his beautiful Tarlton eyes in his sunken face to see his frail lips make a little smile.

"An angel came to stand beside my bed last night. He was very beautiful. He had on a white robe and he had white hair and he had wings. He said to me, "I have come to deliver a message to you. "There is work for you to do on earth. You can heal people with your gifts". Then he spread his wings placing them over me and you. It felt so warm and good, Mr. Branson. I am going to live". My prayers and the prayers of Frank and many other people had been granted..our precious Izahk would live. Then I heard Mrs. Jackson walk in with her usual greeting, "How's my precious baby today?"

"Mrs. Jackson, I am going to live". She walked over to hold his pale hand in hers. Then she sobbed, "God is good, Precious..now, what would you like for me to get you for breakfast?"

He said softly, "Can I have waffles with butter and syrup?" She told him that she would go directly to kitchen to get it for him then looked at me and smiled the most-wonderful smile on earth. She returned not long afterward with his waffles. She stood beside him taking his hand in hers wrapping her fingers around his weak ones saying, "Precious, I want you to cut it then feed yourself..we have a lot of work to do now..we have to get you strong again". She did about all of the work, but he managed to get a small piece to his lips then chew it a little and swallow it. I had not seen him eat anything but soft food for weeks. She smiled at him saying, "Tonight, I will bring steak for your supper, Precious" Then she laughed. "Not tonight, Precious, but real soon". She then turned to leave his room and I saw her look directly at me to whisper .Halleleujah. I later learned that her grandson had died from a childhood cancer.

Every day, I saw him getting stronger. He began to be able to feed himself and with help. He could get into a wheelchair to be wheeled around in the Cancer Center. The nurses knew who he was from the start, yet they treated him as any other patient respecting him. I would wheel him to the nurses' station where they would surround him hugging him. He was still weak with his hair beginning to regrow. I saw it returning, but noticed it was snow white, "Baby, your hair is growing back".

"I know it is, I can feel it with my hands". I had purposefully avoided bringing him a mirror since I didnt want him to see his disease-ravaged face.

"Baby, your hair is snow white best I can tell" He smiled a big smile saying, "Now I have angel hair"

"Maybe you will be a Poodle Angel"..we both laughed.

Each day, he would have me wheel him to the next floor down, The Children's Cancer Unit, where he would visit with each child bringing them a lollipop or some treat he had me buy for him. He would sing weakly and softly to each child. They were little songs he made up on the spot. One little four year old boy seemed to capture his heart..little Grant Townsend. He was so tiny and bald. Izahk would have him touch his snow-white poodle hair saying to him, "When yours grows back, you may get angel hair like me". We were there for six more weeks until he was strong enough to get back to our home in the mountains. The last thing he did before we left the hospital was to walk slowly with my help to visit little Grant.

I heard him say before we left the little boy's room, "Baby, will you come visit Mr. Izahk when you get better". Little Grant always called him Mr Izahk .I hired a limousine to drive us home so that he could stretch out to rest. I was nearly asleep from the motion of the car when I heard him praying softly for Grant to get better. I knew how much he loved that frail little child. Mrs. Jackson would call us every Sunday. On the second Sunday we were home, I asked her about little Grant. She said softly, "They have sent the boy home to be with is parents for the end" All she told Izahk was that he had gone home to be with his family. I think he knew. After they hung up, he cried softly. My Baby had lost his Baby..dammit..double dammit..I was devastated for them both.

Over the next year, I saw Izahk slowly return to the man he had been..alive, vibrant, fun and playful..singing again and playing the piano. Frank had Anthony play the lead in London, "He's doing a damned good job of it, too". Izahk resumed his weekly visits to the nursing home and would sing for weddings and funerals and other small events locally. "I am doing what the angel told me to do, Mr Branson". He seemed content and peaceful. His hair had all come back and was, indeed pure-white and curly just like before". He was so proud of it remarking to me, "I have angel hair to do angel work". I agreed. He had a gift to use his talents to heal people..make them happy, brighten their lives. So, Broadway was over, he had a much-more important job to do now.