EDIE - Chapter Two

F  rom the moment she was born, Edie Bancroft was a star. It was said by her parents, and confirmed by the doctor who delivered her, that she came out of her mother with a smile on her face and her eyes wide open. The doctor later explained to Edie’s parents that the smile was what is called a reflexive, or involuntary, smile that happens randomly and isn’t a sign that a baby is happy, but the pictures taken of her at the time confirmed the fact to all who saw them that Edie was born to be somebody special.

Edie didn’t prove her baby picture wrong as she developed quickly and began to deliver genuine social smiles less than six weeks after her birth. Her awareness and responses to hugs were reciprocated by adults, and by her third month she began to engage with people to whom she was introduced by giggling and smiling during simple games of peek-a-boo, and her response to funny faces was shared back by those who played with her.

Besides her obvious charm of appearing happy, Edie also was inherently restrained in her emotions. She wasn’t overly irritated by wet diapers, loud noises or other discomforts experienced by infants, and she didn’t express frustration or fussiness like many other babies when she was picked up, put to bed, or was hungry. Instead, she employed a variety of coos that described her needs in a language of her own that her parents grew to understand. 

Since Edie was the first of the Bancrofts’ children, her parents, Guy and Annette, thought that any other babies they might have would be similar to her, an illusion which was almost immediately ended by the birth of Ryan, the Bancroft’s second child. To the same degree that Edie was amiable, sweet and easy, Ryan proved to be a terror. In addition to having an affliction known as  croup, he rarely smiled or laughed, turned away from people who came near him and sucked his thumb until the age of five. Even at the end of his primary grades, he continued to have difficulty engaging with others. When playing with other toddlers, he would grab for a toy he wanted and become angry if he couldn’t have it. He then would become even more annoyed after receiving it, and continued to ask for another and then another, until there were no more options. He would then turn away from the giver, suck his thumb and project indifference.

Despite their experience with Ryan, the Bancrofts had a third child, Riley, whose personality fell somewhere between Edie’s and Ryan’s. But he was often overlooked by his parents as they lavished praise on Edie, and were constantly trying to manage the idiosyncratic behavior of his older brother.

As a junior in high school, Edie excelled in her classes, and became a competitive swimmer and played intramural basketball. She also sang in the choir at St. Giles Episcopal Church and performed with The Playmakers, a little theater group that produced scaled-down musical productions on a small stage in the church’s parish house. At the age of 16, Edie was cast in the role of Liesl von Trapp, and sang a duet with three different Rolf Grubers who appeared on different nights with Edie as the adoring telegram messenger boy. Together they sang “Sixteen Going on Seventeen,” a performance for which Edie received great applause independent of her three alternating Rolfs.

The Bancrofts were far from wealthy, and Edie hoped to gain a scholarship to co-educational college with a drama department. Due to her exemplary College Board scores, a straight-A grade average and her achievements in her extracurricular activities, she earned a full scholarship to Bryn Mawr College. Dorm space was limited and was not included in the scholarship, but it wasn’t difficult for Edie to live at home and commute to Bryn Mawr using the SEPTA line. Despite the fact that Bryn Mawr was an exclusively women’s college, it checked off most of the items on her list since it qualified as one of the finest women’s colleges in the country. It was also noted as the alma mater of the actress Katharine Hepburn, who in 1940 had starred as the Main Line socialite Helen Hope Montgomery Scott in the film version of Philip Barry’s play The Philadelphia Story.

Edie had watched both the 1940 version and its 1956 musical remake, High Society, many times on TV,  and loved the female leads in both, and was over the moon with expectations as she entered her senior year and became the first female president of her high school class.

It was during the second semester of high school that Edie began to feel fatigued during many of her extracurricular activities. At times she also found that she lost her balance and experienced a numbness in her arms and legs. Edie’s parents thought that she possibly had mononucleosis, which seemed to be going around, and which was commonly known as “the kissing disease.” After explaining to her parents that the only boys she had ever kissed were the three boys who played Rolf in The Sound of Music the year before, her doctor prescribed blood tests  to check for other infections, or  an autoimmune disease she might have contracted.

As she experienced headaches and blurred vision, and her walking more unsteady, her primary care physician arranged an appointment at Children’s Hospital in Philadelphia to establish a more accurate diagnosis.

After several rounds of testing, a neurologist, Dr. Simon Eliges, suspected that Edie’s immune system was attacking the protective layer surrounding the nerve fibers in Edie’s brain and spinal chord, and that what she was experiencing were the early signs of multiple sclerosis.

Unfortunately, little was known about the disease in the 1960s, and the tools physicians used were not as advanced as they are today to either diagnose or treat the disease. According to Dr. Eliges, all they could do was manage the symptoms of Edie’s disease.

“But what’s the outcome?” asked Edie’s father.

The doctor had to say that if, in fact, it was MS, there would probably be flareups, during which Edie would not be at her best, and over time the symptoms could cause a degradation of her physical abilities. Otherwise, he said, she should be able to live a somewhat normal life.

The 1960s were an era prior to HIPAA rules and restrictions, when doctors would often follow a paternalistic approach, which meant that they would discuss a child’s medical situation with the parents first, before deciding how much information the parents should share with their child.

Mr. Bancroft was well aware of his daughter’s desire for excellence in her achievements, and was concerned that if Edie knew too much about the debilitating effects of the disease, it would affect her outlook on life and stifle her goals. His wife had a different take on her daughter, and suspected that Edie would fight the disease despite the diagnosis. Dr. Eliges knew little about Edie’s competitive spirit, so he allowed her parents to work out between themselves the timing and depth of any explanation concerning the evolution of the disease and the limitations it might impose on her moving forward.

The Bancrofts discussed the problem, and eventually Edie’s father succumbed to her mother’s point of view. Without intervention by any of Edie’s doctors, Mrs. Bancroft quietly explained the situation to her daughter while her husband painfully watched Edie and listened. 

“It’s not life threatening,” said Mrs. Bancroft, as her daughter sat with her hands folded in her lap. “But it will mean changes in your activities,” which she described in detail.

When she was done, Edie lowered her chin to her neck for a moment, and then looked upward towards her father who couldn’t hide his concern, and gave him a smile. 

“Looks like I have some work ahead of me,” she said.

“I’m feeling pretty good right now. If you’ll both excuse me, I have an essay to write for English class. This might be a good time to start it. It might even make a good theme!”

Edie got up from her chair, hugged her father tightly, then moved towards her mother, held her by the shoulders, and gave her a kiss on both cheeks in a way that expressed to her mother how proud she was of  her.

“I can’t imagine how difficult it was for you to give me that prognosis,” said Edie to her mother.

“I’m okay with it, and I intend to work as hard as I can to be as much of who I thought I’d be as possible. Surprisingly, it’s a comfort to know what’s wrong with me.

“I learned a long time ago that our lives can’t be expected to be perfect, and mine pretty much has been ‘perfect’ thus far. At least I know the hurdles that I’ll need to mentally jump over.”

Edie then turned around and walked to her room, leaving a little wave behind her before she closed the door.

The Bancrofts looked at each other, and then  towards the closed door of their daughter’s bedroom. After a moment they heard music playing and Edie singing along with the lyrics.

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Continue to Chapter 3

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