Now the final chapter of the story…
“I was a high school senior with plans to enter nursing school in August,” Suzie shared, reaching back 69 winters and across the country from her Camarillo home.
But an unwanted teen pregnancy upset her apple cart beyond repair, she feared, and upset her parents beyond so much as a kind word. Terrified and feeling all alone in the world, Suzie slinked into the office of a doctor she had never met.
That doctor was my grandpa, before he became my grandpa, back in 1954, back in the small town of Urbana, Ohio.
“How could I ever forget those three visits with Dr. Ansel Woodburn,” Suzie continues, her words a grateful statement not a question. “As a teenager, it was scary to discuss my private life in detail, but he was very kind – grandfatherly, even – and gentle in his questioning and examination.”
With a soothing bedside manner that would have made Hippocrates proud, Ansel determined that Suzie, who timorously claimed she had only missed one menstrual period, was actually three months along dating back to Thanksgiving break when her college boyfriend returned home.
“Your grandfather reassured me there was nothing to be ashamed of,” Suzie remembers. “He said there was no shame in my situation, that there was no shame in having sex. What a wonderful gift he gave me – to feel normal, okay, valued and not judged as a loose woman.”
At her next appointment, Ansel instructed Suzie to phone him immediately if she started spotting. His worries proved well-founded: Soon thereafter, Suzie, “painfully alone in the bathroom,” suffered a passed miscarriage at home.
Painfully alone still, she returned to Ansel’s office at 107 Church Street where she says she received the kindness of a minister and the compassion of a saint.
“ ‘Oh, Suzie,’ he said,” Suzie recalls with timeless clarity. “Dear Dr. Ansel Woodburn gathered this trembling young woman in his arms and held me as I cried and cried and cried about the mess I created. Several times he told me I was okay and I would be okay. I remember how good it felt to be wrapped in his strong arms – my father did not do that for me, ever.
“No one asked me how I was feeling, how I was doing, but your grandfather did. He said my life depended upon what I did in the future, and that I was strong and young and would be successful. I’ll never forget that – I’ve never forgotten him.”
The great poet Robert Frost said, “No tears in writer, no tears in the reader,” and at this moment it is true also with speaker and listener.
“For as long as I needed, and I think it was an hour at least, your grandfather held me and comforted me,” Suzie goes on. “He knew I wasn’t getting any comforting at home. As I rested my head on his shoulder, I heard his soft whistle-hum. He didn’t let me leave until I stopped crying.”
The tearful memory elicits a smile from Suzie: “He had a funny comment that made me laugh, and then he let me leave with another wonderful hug like a big bear. Thanks to your grandfather, I knew I was strong and would be able to go on in life.”
In extending her invitation for my visit, Suzie said, “Your grandfather’s spirit shall be present at our meeting, I’m sure of that.”
Bidding our goodbyes, Grandpa Ansel’s long-ago patient gave me a hug that sent the vibrations of a soothing whistle-hum through my being.
* * *
Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn
Woody writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His SIGNED books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.
