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A penny and a promise
(by Jennifer Botkin Phillips - August 27, 2008)
After boarding the Red and Tan Lines on Kinderkamack Road, I spent the next 30 minutes being jostled and jolted while the behemoth bus snaked its way through the Pascack Valley to the Lincoln Tunnel. Upon arrival at Port Authority, my next mode of transportation for a doctor’s appointment on 59th Street, was hopping the A Train.
Maneuvering the Subway system in New York City may not seem like a big thing, but I was pretty overwhelmed. The last time I had occasion to take the Subway was several years ago when my Aunt Betty and Uncle Bert visited. Today, I was alone.
What if I miss my stop and end up at the end of the line in Washington Heights, one of the most northern neighborhoods in Manhattan? The doctor’s office nurse told me to take the A Train from Port Authority to 59th Street, only two stops away. That sounded easy enough even though I was feeling skittish.
While waiting for the train, a faded memory from another time and place materialized in my head. I was waiting for an Amtrak train in Newark with my then husband, Steve, to take us to Philadelphia for a writer’s conference I was attending. When the oncoming train rolled to a stop and then began chugging away again, he turned toward me pointing his finger at the train exclaiming with a questioning look, “Wasn’t that your train?” I never did quite understand how I missed that train when we were standing right there. But, that’s for another column.
Thus, while waiting for the A Train in the Subway at Port Authority, I prudently approached a stranger to inquire if I was in the correct location and on the right platform heading toward Midtown and not Downtown. When the swoosh of a train whizzing by left us in a flurry of wind whipping around, it reminded me of the subway scene in Ghost. Upon seeing my startled and surprised expression from the bluster and blast of noise, a female looking mid-20-something fashionista asked me where I was from?
“New Jersey” I proudly smiled back, as if I’d just been crowned in Atlantic City.
Raising her eyebrows, as a wide grin graced her face, she began nodding, “Hum.” I had the distinct impression that in her mind, being from “The Garden State” explained everything.
Like clockwork, the second stop came, and I successfully scrambled off the Subway and slowly climbed up the stairs to 59th Street. Along the way, I found a shiny, heads up penny. Ah, ha! My reminder that God is looking out for me. When I get home, I’ll put it in my little treasure chest filled with pennies I’ve collected from different locations in New Jersey and beyond.
I made my way to the medical building on 59th Street affiliated with St. Luke’s Roosevelt and my appointment with a cardiologist who specializes in my particular heart disease, hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, a genetic condition according to the HCMA (www.4hcma.org) in which the muscle of the heart is abnormal.
There must have been a mix-up on the day I came into the world. Not only did I inherit hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, I was blessed with another genetic disease, PKD (polycystic kidney disease), another life threatening, and degenerative disease in which thousands of fluid filled cysts invade the kidneys leading to kidney failure (www.pkdcure.org).
My nephrologist once told me I’d been given a double whammy. I’ve heard all kinds of comments from doctors about my genes. “Ms. Phillips,” one doctor quipped, “you are a lovely lady, but you have bad genes.”
Even the cardiologist specialist I was seeing today commented when he examined me, “My, you are an unlucky lady.” But, I have to say he redeemed himself rather royally when he confirmed that should the time come for a kidney transplant, that my heart should be able to handle the surgery. He even declared that they would have an HCM specialist on the transplant team, if necessary. I’d worried and worried about missing out on a second chance at life should that time ever come, and now my burden was lifted. Walking out of his office I felt lighter and left with a smile on my face!
Feeling like I had the world by the tail, I crossed Broadway and took a few moments at Columbus Circle before heading back down to the Subway. This time, finding my location was a snap.
It was after 5 p.m. and time to hustle to Platform #220 for the ride back to the Pascack Valley. As people arrived and stood in line we shifted first from one foot to the other waiting for the bus. Later passengers coming off the escalator were drenched. It had started to rain causing a traffic snarl making our bus an hour late.
Finally, the bus arrived and we boarded, eager to be homebound. Departing Port Authority we headed back through the Lincoln Tunnel and as the bus circled around giving us that last look across the Hudson and the New York City skyline as a backdrop, I caught my breath. Even with the darkened sky and the rain falling softly now, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A rainbow, the promise of hope, was cast against the shadowy skies.
A penny and a promise. Not a bad way for an unlucky lady to end the day!
Until next time… Top Blonde… on the run.
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