Granny Dan

“Take her home and put her to bed,” the nurse said, holding the door open for them, and they were lucky to find a taxi driving past. Later, Danina remembered nothing of the trip back to the ballet. All she remembered was climbing back into her bed, and feeling the rags between her legs, and the searing pain the woman had left inside her. Danina could think of nothing now, not of Nikolai, or their baby, or any part of what had just happened. She simply rolled over in bed with a soft moan, and within seconds, was unconscious.

Chapter 7

When Nikolai came to see her that afternoon, he found her fast asleep in her bed with her clothes on. He had no idea where she'd been, or what she'd done, so he was relieved at least that she was sleeping, until he looked at her a little closer. Her face was gray, and he noticed her lips were faintly blue, and when he took her pulse, he panicked, and then tried to wake her, and found he couldn't. She was not sleeping, he realized, she was deeply unconscious. And when, out of instinct, if nothing more medical, he pulled her covers back, he saw that she was lying in a pool of blood that had spread all around her. She had been hemorrhaging for hours.

And this time, he did not hesitate for an instant. He sent one of the dancers for an ambulance, and in terror he began taking her clothes off. She was very nearly dead, and he had no idea how much blood she'd already lost but what he saw around her looked tremendous. And the rags he found between her legs told him the whole story of what had happened.

“Oh my God … oh … Danina …” There was nothing he could do to staunch the flow of blood. She needed surgery, and perhaps even that would not save her. And as soon as she heard, Madame Markova came running to Da-nina's room. The scene that met her in Danina's small dormitory told her all she needed to know. Nikolai was sitting beside her, holding her hand as tears rolled down his face. And the look of despair he wore touched even Madame Markova. But as the ballet mistress entered the room, Nikolai's sorrow and sense of helplessness turned rapidly to anger. “Who let her do this?” he asked the ballet mistress sharply. “Did you know about it?” His tone was one of accusation, grief, and fury.

“I knew nothing,” she said angrily, “probably even less than you did. She must have gone out when we went to church,” she said miserably, afraid for Danina's life.

“How long ago was that?”

“Four or five hours.”

“My God … don't you understand that this could kill her?”

“Of course I understand that.” They wanted to throttle each other in their respective terror for the girl they both loved. But fortunately, the ambulance came quickly, and took her to a hospital Nikolai knew well, and he told them what little he knew of what had happened. She never regained consciousness before surgery, and it was two hours before the surgeon came to see him and Madame Markova, sitting in silence in the barren waiting room, staring at each other.

“How is she?” Nikolai asked quickly, as Madame Markova listened, but the surgeon looked less than pleased. It had very nearly been a disaster, and they were giving her her fourth transfusion.

“If she lives,” he said solemnly, “I believe she will still be able to have children. But the outcome is still not certain. She has lost a vast quantity of blood, and whoever did it must have been a butcher.” He described the situation medically to Nikolai, and other than the hemorrhaging that refused to stop despite everything they did, they were deathly afraid of infection. “This will not be easy for her,” the surgeon explained to Madame Markova. “She must stay here for several weeks, perhaps longer, if she even survives it. We will know more by tomorrow morning, if she lives through the night. For now, we've done all we can for her.” Madame Markova was crying softly when the surgeon finished.

“May I see her?” Nikolai asked respectfully, terrified by what the surgeon had said. He would give them no reassurance she would survive.

“You can't do anything for her now,” the surgeon explained. “She's still not conscious, and may not be for a while.”

“I'd like to be there when she wakes up,” Nikolai said quietly, aghast at what had happened, and that he had known nothing about it, and been unable to stop her. They would have worked it out somehow. He had thought about it all night, and turned assorted solutions over in his mind. She didn't have to risk her life to solve the problem. It could all have been worked out, or so he thought.