When Meghan Went Missing

“The ultimate test of character is found in what one does
with the power they are granted.” — Douglas J Love

Meeting in a Fine Arts class during their second year at the university, it didn’t take long before Michael and Meghan knew they’d spend their lives together. On their wedding day, two and a half years later, they vowed to do just that.

As they rushed to the hospital, Meghan doing everything she could to fight the urge to push, the young couple eagerly anticipated the birth of their firstborn child.

Pulling up to the Emergency Room entrance, Michael raced around the car to help his beloved bride of three years out of the car and into a nearby wheelchair.

“Oh, Michael, please hurry. This baby wants out!” she urged.

They were met by an orderly and a security guard. “Mrs. Morrison?” the orderly asked having been prepared for their arrival by a 911 call.

“Yes.” Michael replied. “And I’m Mr. Morrison.”

“I’ve got it from here,” the orderly spoke authoritatively as he took control of the wheelchair.

As they were about to enter the building, the burly security guard who looked like he could be a lineman on any NFL team, stepped in front of Michael and pronounced, “I’m sorry, sir. Because of COVID-19 precautions, you are not allowed to enter the building.”

Michael immediately protested, “No. She’s my wife! She’s about to have my child! Please, get out of my way, I’ve got to be with her. We are always together!”

Upon being whisked away by the orderly, Meghan turned to her husband and called out in a frantic voice, “Michael! Michael! Stay with me!”

Michael tried unsuccessfully to slip past the guard.

“Sir, I am sorry. Really, I am. But you cannot enter the hospital. COVID-19, you know.”

Pleading with the man, Michael strained to find some clever way to talk his way in. “I’ll wear a mask! I’ll wash my hands. C’mon man, I’m young, I’m strong. I’m healthy! You gotta let me in! That’s my wife, she’s going to have my child. I must be with her! I made a promise! Don’t you understand? I made her a promise!”

Genuinely sympathetic to his plight, the guard nodded but once again stated, “I get it, I really do. But, rules are rules, my friend. And you cannot go in.”

Sensing correctly that he wasn’t going to get anywhere with this guard, Michael said, “Who can I talk to? I know you are just doing your job. I get that, but there has to be someone with the authority to let me in.”

Keying his walkie-talkie, the guard spoke into his chest mounted mic, “Guard supervisor needed at the ER door.” Explaining to Michael that he’d just requested his supervisor to come and help, the guard said, “Listen, the best thing you can do is take some deep breaths. Calm down. Please. Your wife is in good hands. She’ll be fine. My boss will explain what I’ve already told you. Okay? Please don’t make this more difficult than it has to be. And between you and me, man to man, I don’t like these rules. They seem so unnecessary. So draconian. Look, I’ve got a job to do. Okay?”

Feeling defeated, Michael quietly acknowledged what he’d heard.

Eventually, a far too skinny, grey haired, haggard looking woman wearing a security guard uniform that was at least two sizes too large, approached. “Bobbie,” she said to the guard, “what’s up?”

Bobbie quickly explained the situation. Nodding in understanding, she turned to Michael.

“Sir,” she said through the raspy voice that only tens of thousands of cigarettes can create. “How can I help you?”

Michael quickly and calmly made his request known.

Refusing to look him in the eyes, she shook her head from side to side and stated dispassionately, “Not possible. As my coworker undoubtedly explained to you, because of COVID-19 precautions, the hospital has dictated a policy that excludes non-essentials from entry. I’m sure you understand.”

“No, I don’t, actually.” Michael said in utter frustration at the woman who’s name badge had the unlikely name of ‘Polly T’ on it. “All I do understand is that my wife is in there right now getting ready to deliver our first-born child, and she needs me by her side. That I very much understand. I am hardly a non-essential!”

“I tell you what, sir.” Polly replied evenly. “I’ll call up to the maternity ward and get a status update for you. That is the best I can do. What is the name of your wife?”

Trying to maintain his composure, Michael replied, “I do appreciate that, her name is Meghan Morrison.”

“M-E-G-A-N?” Polly spelled out for clarification.

“No, M-E-G-H-A-N. Morrison. Meghan with an H, last name Morrison.”

“Okay, give me a minute,” Polly T said. Turning to Bobbie, she instructed, “Don’t let him get by you.”

Bobbie nodded.

A few minutes later, Polly T approached with a dour look on her face. “Mr. Morrison, is there a different name she might have used? We have no record of a Meghan Morrison having been admitted. None whatsoever. Could she have used her maiden name?”

“What?” Michael questioned in utter surprise. “No! Of course not. M-O-R-R-I-S-I-O-N. That is the only name she would have used. She never uses her maiden name, in fact she hated it. It is Schermensky. She always says she married me so that she could have a normal last name. Please check again, obviously there is a mistake.

“Sherwinsky?” Polly T asked.

“NO! Schermensky. Do I need to spell it for you? She wouldn’t have used it. No way.”

Again, Polly T left to call the maternity ward. Moments later she returned, “Nope. No Morrison. No Schermensky. No Meghan, with or without an ‘H”. Are you sure you brought her to this hospital?”

“C’mon! Bobbie here watched her go in the door with one of your orderlies, I think his name tag said Howard on it. She is in there. And if you can’t find her,” he said as he rushed the door, only to be blocked by Bobbie as Polly T stepped back in fear.

“Tell you what,” Polly T said, “I’ll make you a deal. Give me your mobile number, go out to your car, so Bobbie can do his job. I’ll personally go up to the maternity ward and talk with the charge nurse to get to the bottom of this, and then I will call you. Okay?”

“How about this,” Michael negotiated, “You let me in and we walk together up there? She is my wife! I have a right to see her. This isn’t a prison.”

Smiling patronizingly, Polly T simply said, “That isn’t going to happen. Please go to your car, and I will call you.”

For thirty minutes, Michael waited anxiously for the call that never came. Repeatedly he approached the ER door seeking entry, explaining his situation and each time being rebuffed by a different security guard. Bobbie was no longer in sight. Eventually, he called the hospital on his phone, and was told that they had no patient by Meghan’s name. Asking for Polly T, only to be told that no one by that name worked at the hospital. The same was true of Bobbie and Howard.

Demanding to speak to the highest-ranking person on duty, he was eventually put through to the hospital administrator, Mrs. Wanda Hammer. Explaining the situation to Mrs. Hammer, he sought to gain her as an ally.

“Mr. Morrison, I am deeply sorry to hear of your troubles. Rest assured, I have checked with personnel and we have no employees by the names of Polly T, Bobbie or Howard. In addition, I’ve looked at our patient census and there are no records of a Meghan Morrison being admitted to our hospital, today or ever. I simply don’t know what to tell you, obviously you are confused. Perhaps you took her to another hospital?” Mrs. Hammer proposed.

“I haven’t heard from or seen my Meghan since,” Michael said years later to the prison doctor as the orderlies strapped him into the electric chair. Twenty-seven people died at Hope Community Hospital the day when Meghan went missing.

— — — — —

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes,
and death shall be no more,
neither shall there be mourning,
nor crying, nor pain anymore,
for the former things have passed away.”

Revelation 21:4