Bitter Harvest: A Woman's Fury, a Mother's Sacrifice Read Online Free PDF

warm, loving wife. He got, instead, a woman whose mercurial moods kept him continually off guard.
    Debora’s predominant emotion seemed to be anger—anger at him. At first, Mike met Debora’s outbursts of temper by fighting back. If she yelled at him, he initially tried to reason with her, then yelled back. Neither approach did any good. Their arguments followed a predictable course, its timing set by Debora. And when she was not angry, she was withdrawn, losing herself in a book.
    Looking back, Mike snuggled to bring forth some good memories. “In Debora’s defense,” he said slowly, “I don’t want to say that my marriage was always unhappy. We had a number of things in common, besides medicine. We both liked to travel and we went on a number of very nice trips. I would never pretend that every moment of our marriage was horrible. The thing that was clearly lacking—always—was that affection, that caring, that intimacy, that was so clearly what I longed for.” And he was the last to know why.
    Debora’s family was not in the picture much. Her sister, Pam, had been married several times, had borne a son, Isaac, in the mid-seventies. She later became a drug and alcohol counselor. Debora was scornful of Pam’s profession.
    Bob and Joan Jones were still relocating frequently as he rose in the hierarchy of the Roman Meal bread company. Their somewhat nomadic life suited them. They bought a fifth-wheel camper and were constantly on the road, seeing America. They rarely visited Debora and Mike, and had fallen into a pattern of getting together only about every two years.
    Mike was much closer to his parents and to his sisters, Vicki and Karen. But Debora seemed stilted and tense around her new husband’s family. She had virtually nothing in common with her mother-in-law. Velma Farrar had a highly developed sense of fashion, and clothes seemed to matter to Debora not at all. Mike’s sisters were slimmer and prettier than she was, and Debora’s biting sense of humor, which charmed so many, missed the mark with the Farrars.
    At first, it seemed to Mike that his mother tried to form a friendship with Debora and Debora held back. Later, he thought, Debora tried but his mother pulled away. Christmases would always be difficult, as they are in so many families, although Debora decorated trees, wrapped packages, and made an effort to be festive—particularly after their children were born.

    Mike did his three-year residency in internal medicine at the University of Cincinnati. He stayed on for a fourth year, as chief medical resident, and was then awarded a three-year fellowship in cardiology. Altogether, he would spend seven years in advanced study before he entered practice as a heart specialist.
    Debora, of course, moved to Ohio with Mike; she went into private practice in emergency medicine at Jewish Hospital. But she soon soured on emergency medicine, and she had a number of run-ins with other doctors—even supervising doctors—in the ER. “One time she called me,” Mike said. “The patient had come in with a heart problem, and Debora told me she knew exactly what he needed. She called the attending physician, but the doctor didn’t agree with her. She was absolutely outraged…. But the fact is that Debora was right.”
    Although Debora was often on target in diagnosing and recommending treatment, she was unpopular. Co-workers found her abrasive, autocratic, and difficult to work with. She lacked the tact to differ with them in a diplomatic way. Instead, she exploded with anger if anyone questioned her judgment. Moreover, the vast majority of cases presenting in the ER were mundane; consequently, they irritated her. Debora could not understand why patients waited so long before they sought medical help, letting minor earaches become raging infections, small scratches turn into cellulitis, and colds into pneumonia. Her bedside manner was more confrontational than comforting. She had always been disgusted with