A camp counselor, or bunk mother, must nurture her image if she wants her campers’ respect. Eden took heed, and started a chain reaction.

She’d first gone to Camp Pocono Alps when she was eight. At the end of her two-week session, she wouldn’t leave till her parents promised she could go back all next summer. She never missed a season after that. Even her illness, which cost her a year at school, didn’t break her string of summers at camp. “It’s all in the timing,” she joked. There was some concern about her fitness so soon after her convalescence, but she carried Rick Harmon’s authorization for full activity. Nothing changed save the need to pay two visits to the village doctor’s office for her monthly injection. Bad enough that she had to spend half a day for a one-minute procedure; worse that the second appointment conflicted with a camp-out. It was a rare camper who didn’t enjoy the overnight. Eden, in her first year as counselor, didn’t want to miss it either. She called home.

“Dad, I don’t want to miss the overnight. It’ll be my first time as counselor.”

“You still have to get your shot,” he said. “Ask them to take you after you get back.”

“There’s four other kids going, and they don’t like to send the van more than once.”

“They can make a special trip for you. You’re an employee and you have a good reason why you can’t go. You’re making the kids happy. Don’t they owe you consideration for that?”

Indeed they do, she admitted silently. And if, to help her, he called them himself, they’d probably agree and there’d be no escaping it. It was not what she wanted.

“The truth is, the best part of a day is wasted with that trip. Driving there, waiting, sitting around for half an hour afterwards, then driving back. And all for a lousy injection.”

“Keeping you in the office after the shot is a precaution, in case you have a reaction.”

“You’re telling me. Last time I thought they’d have a fit because I scratched. First I had to calm them down. They said it was hives, but it was just mosquito bites. After the second Benadryl I was so sleepy, I decided I’d rather itch. This place is like a swamp, mosquitoes the size of airliners. Can’t I take pills just this one time? Camp’ll be over in three weeks.”

Eden listened to the weary sigh at the other end of the line. “All because of that hepatitis flap,” her father said. “If they were still giving the shots at camp, there’d be no problem.”

The flap had occurred the previous November, when Evie Berman came down with hepatitis. As luck would have it, she’d received a shot of adrenalin at camp for a bee sting. It didn’t matter that the nurse had used a disposable syringe and a single-dose ampoule. It didn’t matter that one of Evie’s friends, who’d never been to camp, had become jaundiced a month before Evie. It didn’t matter that tests showed hepatitis A, which is transmitted orally. A lawsuit was withdrawn only after considerable expenditure of time, money, and nerves. From then on, injections at camp were for emergencies only. Preventive medicine didn’t qualify.

Their first outing had taken till mid-afternoon. The campers were happy enough to miss swimming. Eden chided them for their attitude.  She was now a leader responsible for the healthy experience of a dozen children, and for her the trip was a waste of good camp time. She had gone straight to the infirmary and asked whether she, at least, couldn’t take tablets instead. The nurse said she had no authority to make such a change, but since the injection she’d just got was good for a month, there was time to consult her own doctor. That complicated things. She postponed making a decision until the overnight forced her to. Her father’s response was not encouraging, but so far he hadn’t said no outright. “I don’t like the idea,” he said. “With all the distractions, you could miss half of them.”

Eden drew a deep breath. “Dad, I will not miss half of them. I promise you. And once I’m home I’ll go back on the shots. Just one month. Yes? Trust me?”

There was a moment’s silence, then a sigh. “OK. But let me send them to the infirmary and ask the nurse to give them to you one day at a time. That puts the responsibility on her.”

“It’s hard to keep the respect of a bunch of kids when the nurse is chasing me around.”

“Then show up at the infirmary before the nurse starts chasing.”

“Fine. So it’s my responsibility anyway. You might as well send them to me.”

Alan’s concession was less than gracious. “OK. I’ll send you a month’s worth. Take one before breakfast. Let’s hope there’s no strep going around in camp.”

Eden held her tongue. She had achieved her objective. Observing the calendar to the day, she carried her pills on the overnight trip. When she returned to camp, the pills weren’t there.

“Did anyone see a bottle of pills?” she asked.

“Ooh, Edie, what are you taking? Are you on the pill?”

“Cut out the wise cracks, Joanie. This is penicillin.”

“Penicillin! She’s got syphilis!” another one squealed. “Stay away from her! She’s catching!” The girls scampered into a corner of the cabin, covering their faces with pillows.

Eden planted herself in the middle of the floor, hands on her waist. She picked on a girl whose grin was more wicked than the others’.

“Gloria, either give me my pills or there’ll be no more radio or tape in this bunk.”

“I can’t give ’em to you. I don’t have ’em.”

None of them did. For all anyone knew, they could have been left at the overnight site.

Eden thought of calling for a replacement. It was a distasteful prospect. Already she could hear her father: “I told you it wouldn’t work.” It wasn’t worth the aggravation.

Her luck held for the remaining three weeks, no strep were going around. But returning home presented a new problem: How would she get past the next week with no pills to show? Admit she hadn’t taken any for three weeks? Claim she’d forgotten to pack them? She toyed with the half-truth of that excuse but, recognizing its moral falsehood, couldn’t bring herself to it.

The solution to her problem was as unexpected as it was gratifying. “No sense taking the rest of those pills,” her father said. “after they’ve lain around that swampy camp effluvium.”

“Eff- what?”

“-luvium. Look it up and throw the pills away. Start a new schedule tomorrow.”

Eden shrugged. “OK.” She was still asleep when Karen went to work next day, so she got the shot in the afternoon. When done, she pulled on her clothes and sat down to write a letter.

By the time the first symptom appeared, she was past thinking about the injection. Half an hour had gone by and she had been absentmindedly scratching her buttocks, her back, her legs, her neck, her forearms, and even her face before the intensity of the itching commanded her attention. To her amazement, she saw that her arms were covered with large red blotches. She went to the bathroom and ran cold water over them. Unthinking, she looked at the mirror over the washbowl, and beheld a sight that took away her breath even before her throat began to constrict. A bee sting! Impossible. There were no bees in the house. But her face, with its swollen lips and eyelids, looked just like Evie’s that time they’d carried her to the infirmary. Even as she stared, she felt as if her mouth and tongue were on fire, and a dreadful tightness gripped her throat. Her breath coming harder with each attempt, she almost fell downstairs as she tried to call to her mother. All that emerged was a hoarse whisper, but Karen, alarmed at the sudden noise, emerged from the study to a sight that practically took her breath too.

“My God! What happened?”

“I’m suffocating,” came back another terrified whisper. “For God’s sake, help me!”

Without stopping to think, Karen put Eden’s left arm round her own neck, grabbed her around the waist, and led her to the garage. Somehow she managed to pick up the car keys she had put down less than an hour before. It did not occur to her to call an ambulance.

For the second time in her life, Eden found herself in the hospital, fighting for her breath. Luckily, the emergency room was not busy when they arrived. And luckily, the first nurse to set eyes on Eden recognized the most feared of allergic reactions. Poking her head behind the curtain of a nearby examining cubicle, she uttered two words: “Anaphylaxis. Hurry!”

In less than a minute, Eden had received an injection of adrenalin and an oxygen mask. Propped up against a bank of pillows, she began to breathe more easily, and fifteen minutes later the doctor was satisfied that the crisis was passing. Only then did he turn to Karen with questions about causes. Who had prescribed the Bicillin? he wanted to know.

“Dr. Harmon, our pediatrician. Edie had rheumatic fever when she was twelve.”

“Has she ever had a reaction?”

“No. I give the shots. There’s never been a problem. I can’t imagine that’s what did it.”

“Has she ever missed any?”

“No. Dr. Harmon was very firm about that. Besides, my husband’s a physician too, so we don’t forget. She even got them at camp.”

Eden sat with eyes closed, listening to her mother’s misinformed answer. Why did he ask that question? What would missing a shot have to do with the reaction?

“Wait here while I call Doctor Harmon,” the doctor said. “The nurse’ll stay with you. I don’t think Eden needs to be admitted, but I don’t want you to leave without his instructions.”

He went into an office and closed the door. “Edie?” Rick was stunned. “I can’t believe it. What could have brought it on? She’s never had allergies.”

“Reaction began about half an hour after a Bicillin shot. That’s what her mother told me.”

“Her mother’s been giving the shots almost four years. There’s never been the slightest problem. I don’t get it. All of a sudden, and such a violent reaction.” He paused to consider. “Well, that’s the end of Bicillin for her. We’ll probably have to go with sulfa. Better keep her overnight. Sometimes there are relapses. Remember, this is a slow-release drug, and she’ll still be exposed after the adrenalin wears off. Anyway, I want to see her in my office the day after tomorrow. Say 1 p.m. Call me before you let her go. . . . You know, Sam, that girl’s going to have some stories to tell. First she almost dies from rheumatic fever, then she almost dies from anaphylaxis. I wonder what’s next. Did you happen to listen to her heart?”

“No. She was wheezing like a four-plus asthmatic. Couldn’t hear much of the heart.”

“You’d never hear it over all that noise. She has aortic insufficiency. Asymptomatic so far, but she’s young yet. Listen to the murmur when her breathing’s back to normal. But be prepared, she’s awfully inquisitive, and very intelligent, and she knows about heart valves.”

“Does she know the prognosis?”

“No, and neither do we. Anyway, you don’t need to get into any long discussion with her. What happened today doesn’t change anything except prophylaxis, and that’s my job.”

Back in the examining room, Sam Black found Eden alert and comfortable. The facial swelling had decreased. “Things are looking better,” he announced. “But Doctor Harmon wants to be very careful and he said to keep Eden here overnight.”

“Does that mean she could have a relapse?” asked Karen.

“Even if she did, it would be milder, so there’s no cause for worry. She’ll be fine here.”

“Well, honey,” Karen said to Eden, “we’d better do as Doctor Harmon says. I’ll call Dad from the payphone, so he can stop by on the way out. Are you feeling OK now?”

“Much better. Can someone explain to me what happened?”

“You had an allergic reaction,” Doctor Black replied. “Doctor Harmon will explain. He wants to see you day after tomorrow. Take care.” He gave Karen the appointment slip.

After he had gone, Karen leaned over to kiss her daughter. “It’s just a precaution.”

“Good night, Mom,” Eden replied. Then, with a smile, she added, “Thanks for the ride over. For a while I thought this was going to be a repeat of the other time.”

“I don’t think I could live through that again, even if you did.”

Again Eden tried to figure what had happened. She wasted no time dwelling on the terror she had experienced at home. Instead, she turned to the missed doses of penicillin. There was a connection; the bedside conversation left no doubt about that. She would have to confess.

Alan went to the emergency room as soon as word of Eden’s admission reached him, only to find that she had been transferred to a hospital bed. By the time he caught up with her, his mind was in a state of chaos. Thank goodness she’s OK was as far as he got before other thoughts took over: Resentment that the whole episode had played out in his absence ― worse, without his knowledge. Perplexity as to what brought it about. Guilt that he had, once again, failed his daughter. Fear for what was next. The ultimate insult was her greeting.

“You look terrible, Dad,” she said with a lighthearted laugh. “I’m feeling much better, so stop worrying! Everyone was great. I shall live!”

Alan smiled bravely. He had a role to play. “You live too dangerously. I’m glad it’s over, but what in the world started it?”

“You’re the doctor. Doctor Black seemed to think it had something to do with the shot. But this one felt the same as all the others, so I don’t understand.”

“What was different was that you hadn’t had one the month before. But that doesn’t explain it either. You were still taking penicillin. Maybe Doctor Harmon can figure it out.”

“Does this mean no more shots?”

“Not Bicillin.”

“Then what do I do? Switch to the pills?”

“Not penicillin pills.”

“Why not? Aren’t they different?”

“Different, but not different enough. You could have the same reaction.”

Anxiety clouded her face. “Then how?”

“There are other ways. I bet you were scared to death.” He meant it only as hyperbole.

“It was awful. I couldn’t breathe, and my face was all bloated. Evie Berman looked like that after her bee sting. Do you have a mirror? I want to see how I look. When I first saw my face, I couldn’t believe it. And it wasn’t just on the outside. My mouth and my throat felt all swollen inside. I couldn’t talk. And the itching and burning. And choking. I thought I’d die.”

Yes, and you could have, Alan thought. “You do have a talent for getting into the scariest situations. But I ought to go home and pay some attention to Mom. It’s been hard for her too.”

“I feel sorry for her. I’ve been a bundle of trouble for her.”

“She saved your life.”

Too late he realized what he had said. He didn’t know how literally Eden would take it, but she’d used similar language and didn’t ask him to explain. She received it as hyperbole.

She almost called him back from the door. She would have liked to phone Josh, but she remembered he was in Europe. It was just as well. He’d have worried himself to death.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two days later a meeting took place in Rick Harmon’s office. Edie had recovered fully.

“Now we’ve got to make plans for the future,” Rick said. “I still can’t figure out how you could take Bicillin all those years with no trouble, and then, bang! have a reaction like this.” He leafed through Eden’s record. “Nothing about allergies, no hay fever, no asthma, no eczema, nothing. Of course, you can be allergic to penicillin and nothing else.”

“What happens now?” Karen asked.

“You won’t be giving any more Bicillin, that’s for sure.” Rick sighed deeply. “No matter how long you practice medicine, there’s always something new.”

Alan realized that the whole story hadn’t been told. “For what it’s worth, there’s one detail. I let myself be talked into oral penicillin instead of the shot last month.”

“How come?” Rick turned to Alan.

“I didn’t like the idea, but it was a matter of schedules. They don’t give shots anymore because some kid got hepatitis last year. Camp wasn’t even at fault. Now they have to go to a local doctor ― who’s not all that local ― and Edie was tied up with an overnight. A big occasion.” He recounted the phone conversation with Eden. “As I said, I fell for a persuasive argument.”

Rick was not upset. “I don’t like the pills either, but sometimes we make exceptions. Sounds to me like you had good reason. But how does that explain what happened? No reaction Friday, no reaction Saturday, no reaction Sunday, anaphylaxis Monday ― boom! Even allowing for the difference between oral and IM, it still doesn’t make sense. You don’t build up that kind of reaction overnight. You got any theories, Alan? Ever see anything like it?”

Alan shook his head. Eden was sitting with head bowed and face deeply flushed.

“You OK, Edie?”

Slowly she looked up and spoke in a muted voice. “I know the answer to your question.”

“Well, don’t look so miserable. We can use your help,” Rick said.

Her face was expressionless. “I didn’t react Sunday because I didn’t take any. Nor Saturday, nor Friday, nor for three weeks before. They’ve been missing since the overnight.”

Alan’s face blanched. “Are you saying that you’ve been off penicillin all this time?”

“Yes, I am,” Eden said. Her tone, and the slight thrust of her chin, bespoke a defiance that neither her mother nor Rick understood. Whatever possessed this model girl to assume such an attitude? Alan alone knew. Reason admonished him to stop before doing more damage, but he could not restrain himself. “How could you be so careless?” he shouted.

“I wasn’t trying to be careless,” she answered, her bravado beginning to crumble. “Those overnights, with all that packing and unpacking, pitching tents and whatnot, things get lost.”

“Then why, for Pete’s sake, didn’t you call home right away? I could have sent more. I don’t understand. You know how important this is.”

“You hoped there’d be no strep going round, because obviously I couldn’t be trusted to take the pills. Well, you were right on both counts. I couldn’t be trusted, and there was no strep. So what does it matter now what I could’ve done and what I should’ve done?”

No one there had ever seen that side of Eden, including Eden herself. Her parents were struck dumb. Rick kept a straight face. To him adolescence, with its rude shocks, was one more fascinating aspect of his practice.

“You know damn well what it matters.” Alan was losing self-control. “After this, penicillin’s out of the question, and what’re you going to do about prophylaxis? That’s what matters. You’ve got yourself a new problem, and you brought it on yourself. All because of some misguided worry about a bunch of stupid kids respecting you.”

This was too much for Eden. “Dad,” she shouted back, tears of anger now flowing freely, “I almost died the other night. And if I’m going to get rheumatic fever over and over, then it’s my heart that’s going to be ruined. Isn’t there something else you can do than yell at me for bringing it on myself? And doesn’t it occur to you that the reason I didn’t call for another bottle was because I was too embarrassed? After the hard time you gave me. I had to make a promise just to get you to agree, and one pill later I’m breaking my promise. I couldn’t bring myself to call.” She sobbed uncontrollably.

Karen walked over and put her arm around Eden’s heaving shoulder. “Shush, darling. Dad didn’t mean it like that. He’s upset because he’s worried about you. You can understand that, can’t you? Doctor Harmon will figure out some other way to protect you.” She cast a hopeful glance in Rick’s direction, and he nodded.

“There is an alternative,” Rick said. “You can take sulfa, but that’s a pill too, and we’ll be counting on you to keep up with it. After today,” he added with a smile, “I’m sure we can. Especially because ― and I have to emphasize this ― if you do get a strep throat, we can’t use sulfa to treat you. It only works for prevention.”

Eden nodded, her eyes downcast once again.

Meanwhile Alan had regained his composure. “I’m sorry I blew up. It does make me mad that it had to happen, but it’s not your fault you’re allergic.”

In the silence that followed he felt his apology had not found its mark. Neither Karen nor Eden looked at him. Well, they need time, he rationalized.

It was Karen who broke the silence. “Rick,” she said, “Doctor Black in the ER asked whether the shots had ever been interrupted, and now all this talk here about missing the pills. What’s the connection?”

“It’s very clear now,” he answered. “But before I explain, there’ll be no blaming. What’s happened has happened.” Eden and Alan nodded. “I suspect allergy began to develop months ago. The itching you had at the camp doctor’s office, which you thought was mosquito bites, could have been a breakthrough reaction. It was mild because most of the antibodies in your system had been mopped up by the Bicillin that was just wearing off. Then you don’t take any drug at all for three weeks, and you get a huge pileup of antibodies waiting for the next shot. That would explain it. You see, once the antibody machinery is geared up, it doesn’t stop.”

“I thought antibodies were good for you,” Karen said. “Isn’t that why we’re vaccinated?”

“There are antibodies and antibodies. When poliovirus meets its antibody, it dies quietly. When penicillin meets its antibody, there’s a violent reaction. It’s just like bee-sting allergy.”

“I understand,” Karen replied. “But you can be desensitized to bee stings.”

“I wouldn’t want to risk it.”

“Suppose she’s allergic to sulfa as well?”

“That pessimistic I don’t want to be. Most folks tolerate it.”

Over the next few days Eden’s and Alan’s anger gradually subsided. Neither mentioned the issue again. But something had changed. Both were wounded, each by the other and both by the knowledge of their own culpability.

Karen observed their subtle estrangement with sadness. But there was worse. With the splintering of her daughter’s once-secure protective shield, she began to feel that danger lurked everywhere, that the next disaster was only waiting to happen. A premonition of doom descended on her, and in its shadow old memories stood out in relief.

~~~~~~~~~~

Alan had a dream. A little girl was brought to the emergency room. “Hit by a bus,” the nurse said. The girl’s mother was frantic. “She should’ve been on that bus, but she rode her bike because she lost her carfare.” Another doctor looked at Alan and shook his head.

He awoke in a cold sweat. Karen was asleep beside him.