[SelzShoes]

Mrs. Ruth?” The doctor entered the lounge. As a courtesy to the wife of an American hero the St. Elizabeth Hospital had cordoned off the waiting area for the Babe’s wife exclusively. With the press, photographers and assorted well-wishers filling the parking lot and Emergency Department a place she could get away from the crowd was need.

"Is George going to be alright?” There was a hint of panic in her voice. For years she had nagged at Ruth to wear his glasses. She feared his stubbornness had seriously injured her husband.

“Broken nose, slight fracture of the cheekbone, a couple black eyes, he should be up and about in a couple days,” something was off in the doctor’s voice. Disjointed, almost metallic. There was little comfort in his words. There was an uncomfortable moment as his voice trailed away into nothingness.

"What is the problem Doctor?”

A pause. “We found some growths in his nasal cavity when we were treating Babe.”

Mrs. Ruth lowered her head, almost ashamed to say the words, “Yes, he has throat cancer.”

"Then he needs to get treatment right away. It’s spreading. I’m sure his doctor in New York . . .”

“I know and his doctor knows.”

“Knows?”

“It’s in his blood. It’s in his lungs. It’s everywhere.” Mrs. Ruth began to tremble. “At this point, we’re just waiting.”

The doctor staggered back in shock, slumping into a chair. Mrs. Ruth raised her head, cheeks and chin stained with tears. “Please, don’t tell George you know. He desperately wants to keep this out of the papers. The Yankees will never hire him if . . .” Her voice broke again. This time the crying did not stop.