in Harlem, honest working people who lived above their shoe repair shop, willing to take both the boy and the girl. Maybe Sam could pick up the trade—there was always good work in repairing shoes—and for that dear little girl there would be a kind woman’s care. Miss Ferster couldn’t wait to see the look on Rachel’s face when she told her she’d be reunited with her brother. Impatiently she interrupted the receptionist, who was sifting through index cards. “I only brought her a few weeks ago, so I imagine she’s still in Isolation. I can find my own way there if you prefer.”
Climbing the back stairs, Miss Ferster hurried up past the doorthat led to the room of glassed-in babies. Entering Isolation, she recognized Nurse Shapiro and asked her to get the Rabinowitz child.
“I’m sorry, but you won’t be able to take her. She was moved last week from Isolation to the hospital wing. She’s in the Measles Ward.”
“Oh, the poor thing.” Miss Ferster recalled when her nephew caught measles last summer, the long nights her sister spent beside him, soothing the boy with damp towels and spooning cool pudding into his sore throat. “How long until she’s recovered do you think?”
“Dr. Hess confirmed the diagnoses through a blood test last week. I imagine she’s covered in rash by now. She’ll be infectious until her skin is clear, but even after the rash subsides there could be other complications. Conjunctivitis is common, and we have to watch for pneumonia. I wouldn’t expect her to be released until next month at the earliest, and then only if she doesn’t contract anything else.”
Miss Ferster’s shoulders sagged. She’d been so excited about the foster placement that she’d asked Miriam to notify the Orphaned Hebrews Home to prepare Sam for transfer. She imagined his disappointment at having to wait another month, maybe more, before seeing his sister. “Could I visit her before I go? I wouldn’t be susceptible, I had measles as a child.”
“It’s impossible for you to enter the Measles Ward. I shouldn’t even let you into the hospital wing.”
“Is there no way for me to at least see the child? I’ve come all this way.”
Nurse Shapiro considered the request. It was nearly lunchtimein Isolation, with no new admissions to process. A walk to the hospital wing would be a welcome change in her routine. “If you insist, but only if I accompany you. There’s a window in the door of the Measles Ward. I’ll ask the nurse to wheel her crib over for you to have a peek.”
“I’d be so grateful. I have a foster family waiting to take her, and I want to be able to tell them how she is.”
To reach the hospital wing, Nurse Shapiro led Miss Ferster down the back staircase and across the lobby. They climbed toward the turret’s skylight then turned down a wide corridor. They passed the various contagious disease wards: measles, pertussis, diphtheria, pneumonia. Knocking on the door to the Measles Ward, Nurse Shapiro explained their mission to the nurse, who went to find the Rabinowitz girl. While they waited, Miss Fertser looked around. Noticing the label on a nearby door, she asked Nurse Shapiro, “Isn’t scurvy a nutritional deficiency? It’s not contagious, is it?”
“No, but Dr. Hess is making a special study of scurvy. It helps his research to keep all the children together in one ward.”
A knock drew their attention. “That’ll be the child,” Nurse Shapiro said, waving the ward nurse to step back. Would Rachel be able to hear her, Miss Ferster wondered, if she said a foster home was waiting as soon as she got well? The news would give the girl some hope. Her face close to the glass window, Miss Ferster looked into the crib that had been brought to the door.
The child in it was unrecognizable. Naked to avoid irritating the rash, her skin was the deep red of a bad burn, mottled and leathery. Her face was like a painted mask, the shorn hair plastered to her skull with
Climbing the back stairs, Miss Ferster hurried up past the doorthat led to the room of glassed-in babies. Entering Isolation, she recognized Nurse Shapiro and asked her to get the Rabinowitz child.
“I’m sorry, but you won’t be able to take her. She was moved last week from Isolation to the hospital wing. She’s in the Measles Ward.”
“Oh, the poor thing.” Miss Ferster recalled when her nephew caught measles last summer, the long nights her sister spent beside him, soothing the boy with damp towels and spooning cool pudding into his sore throat. “How long until she’s recovered do you think?”
“Dr. Hess confirmed the diagnoses through a blood test last week. I imagine she’s covered in rash by now. She’ll be infectious until her skin is clear, but even after the rash subsides there could be other complications. Conjunctivitis is common, and we have to watch for pneumonia. I wouldn’t expect her to be released until next month at the earliest, and then only if she doesn’t contract anything else.”
Miss Ferster’s shoulders sagged. She’d been so excited about the foster placement that she’d asked Miriam to notify the Orphaned Hebrews Home to prepare Sam for transfer. She imagined his disappointment at having to wait another month, maybe more, before seeing his sister. “Could I visit her before I go? I wouldn’t be susceptible, I had measles as a child.”
“It’s impossible for you to enter the Measles Ward. I shouldn’t even let you into the hospital wing.”
“Is there no way for me to at least see the child? I’ve come all this way.”
Nurse Shapiro considered the request. It was nearly lunchtimein Isolation, with no new admissions to process. A walk to the hospital wing would be a welcome change in her routine. “If you insist, but only if I accompany you. There’s a window in the door of the Measles Ward. I’ll ask the nurse to wheel her crib over for you to have a peek.”
“I’d be so grateful. I have a foster family waiting to take her, and I want to be able to tell them how she is.”
To reach the hospital wing, Nurse Shapiro led Miss Ferster down the back staircase and across the lobby. They climbed toward the turret’s skylight then turned down a wide corridor. They passed the various contagious disease wards: measles, pertussis, diphtheria, pneumonia. Knocking on the door to the Measles Ward, Nurse Shapiro explained their mission to the nurse, who went to find the Rabinowitz girl. While they waited, Miss Fertser looked around. Noticing the label on a nearby door, she asked Nurse Shapiro, “Isn’t scurvy a nutritional deficiency? It’s not contagious, is it?”
“No, but Dr. Hess is making a special study of scurvy. It helps his research to keep all the children together in one ward.”
A knock drew their attention. “That’ll be the child,” Nurse Shapiro said, waving the ward nurse to step back. Would Rachel be able to hear her, Miss Ferster wondered, if she said a foster home was waiting as soon as she got well? The news would give the girl some hope. Her face close to the glass window, Miss Ferster looked into the crib that had been brought to the door.
The child in it was unrecognizable. Naked to avoid irritating the rash, her skin was the deep red of a bad burn, mottled and leathery. Her face was like a painted mask, the shorn hair plastered to her skull with
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