Deathbed

“Do all pregnant women get this material?”

“Routinely, yes. You’d be surprised at how little some of these women know about getting pregnant. Even some who are already mothers. Oh, they know enough about coitus. But when it comes to sperm and ova and menstruation, more often than not you can forget it.”

“But these pamphlets have information on . . . uh . . . ‘artificial’ contraception.”

“Yes?” The nurse was surprised that a contemporary woman—let alone an urbane reporter—would take issue with contraception. Of course, the lady was from the News, which was a rather conservative paper. But, really!

“Well, unless I am seriously mistaken,” Lennon said, “the Catholic Church still condemns contraception.” Pause. “And this is a Catholic hospital!”

“Lady, I don’t make policy here; I just follow it. But I can tell you one thing: It’s like shoveling sand against the tide.”

“Oh?”

“Well, like I said before, most of the girls who come in here pregnant don’t know how they got that way. They just know they’re pregnant. And even after counseling and literature like this, or even after giving them anything from the Pill to an IUD, they still come back pregnant again. About the only time it ends is when they get a tubal ligation.”

“You do that here?”

“Uh-huh. Actually it’s simple out-patient surgery now. Usually there aren’t any complications.”

“But that’s sterilization.”

“Well, it’s not as if we did it as a regular practice. Only in some extreme cases.”

“Such as?”

“There was a typical one the other day. A lady who’d been here before. Thought she was pregnant again. Turned out to be a false alarm. But she’s a diabetic. And that condition seriously complicates pregnancy. So the doctor did a tubal. Really, it was the only humane thing to do.”

“How about vasectomies?”

“No. Not usually. Something like that can be done in the physician’s office.”

“How about abortions?”

“Oh, no. That’s where the hospital draws the line.”

“None of your doctors perform abortions?”

“Not here. But most of them are accredited at other hospitals—all of which permit abortions. Of course, some of our doctors simply don’t perform abortions, period. But those on our staff who do just take their patients across the street.”

“But you do provide contraceptive counseling and devices . . . and you do perform sterilizations?”

“Oh, yes. But keep in mind that as far as the counseling is concerned, we are just supplying information these women should have received somewhere else—school or home or someplace. The devices are supplied only with the patient’s knowledge and consent. And that, of course, holds true for sterilizations. We don’t even recommend tubal ligations unless there are some additional extenuating circumstances. Like the diabetic I told you about.”

Lennon packed her notepad and pen away. “Well, thank you. You’ve been very helpful. Very.”

She concurred that William Arnold’s job was done, at least for the moment. He returned to the News where he would submit his film for development.

*      *      *

A reporter! And a photographer! News travels fast in this little hospital.

Why would the Detroit News be interested in St. Vincent’s? No matter. If what is going on here is reported, all hell will break loose. I will be able to share my private hell with the rest of the world.

Most of all, it will be the end for that damnable nun. The light of day can destroy her as thoroughly as I ever could.

And, if it doesn’t . . .?

I still can act.

That poor, miserable acid-head! He almost did my job for me. If it had not been for that stupid guard, it would be all over now. Dumb luck. She would be dead. It would be no one’s fault. And it would be over.

All right. I will give the Detroit News its chance to bring her down. That way, once again, it will be no one’s fault. No one’s fault but hers.

All right. We’ll see about the power of the press.

But God, it can’t take long. The pain in my head! It is driving me mad!

If someone does not get rid of her soon, I will! By God, I will! One way or another, I will bring her down.

In the meantime, smile, clown! No one must know. No one!

*      *      *

Lennon retraced her steps to Sister Eileen’s office to await the nun’s return. She paged through several magazines, but was unable to concentrate.

Eventually, Eileen returned. She seemed startled to find Pat there. “Waiting long?”

“Not really.”

“Sorry. Meetings have a way of dragging on.”

They entered her inner office and sat where they had hours earlier. Eileen looked intently at Lennon. Something was troubling the reporter. “Have an interesting tour?”

“Very. Basically, it seems you have a rather smooth-running operation here. I think I noticed an extra something in the personnel. I’m not sure what it is—more sensitivity, more personalized care, Christianity— something. That I will have to check out more thoroughly. But I’ll get right to what interests me the most—your clinic.”

“Ah, yes, the clinic.” She was not a crack reporter for nothing.

“Admittedly, it’s been a long time since I’ve had any formal training in Catholicism. But I try to keep up with reading and some study. Some of the stories I work on require some specialized knowledge. For instance, I did a story not too long ago on Casa Anna out in Dearborn Heights. It’s a home for adolescent girls who are in trouble. Usually a lot of trouble.”

“Yes. I know it well.”

“The average inmate is unmarried and pregnant. I interviewed the psychologist-social worker about their pregnancy counseling.”

“You don’t have to go any further, Pat. I know what you’re driving at: The girls get no contraceptive information whatsoever.”

“That’s what I learned. And that, as the social worker explained, is because Casa Anna is a Catholic institution.”

Eileen continued to gaze at Lennon, but merely nodded.

“But that’s not the case in your clinic. Of course, I don’t have to tell you that. My question may be a little complex, but . . . what’s going on here?”

Even though Sister Eileen had feared that Lennon would ferret out some of St. Vincent’s less kosher secrets, the nun was unsure how best to explain it all.

She silently welcomed any help the Holy Spirit might send.

“The first thing you ought to know,” she said, finally, “is that a considerable amount of the clinic’s budget is underwritten by federal money. And I tell you quite frankly that if we did not offer the full spectrum of family planning, that money would be withdrawn.”

“Oh?” Lennon had not expected such a candid statement. She flipped open her notepad and began writing.

Eileen sighed. But it was inevitable. “Having said this, I can only hope you will trust that I am being totally honest with you.”

Lennon nodded. She continued writing.

“The second thing, and, I believe, the more important thing you should know, is that the policies of this