Gabby_ A Story of Courage and Hope - Alison Hanson [112]
I didn’t want Gabby to forget that she was a formidable politician. In early April, Speaker John Boehner came to Houston to attend the NCAA Final Four tournament. Considering that she was a member of Congress and he was the highest-ranking member, we thought he’d ask to visit Gabby, or at least give a call to see how she was doing. Our only contact with him had been a simple get-well card he’d sent a few days after Gabby was injured.
When he came to town for the basketball games and we didn’t hear from him, I told Gabby that maybe she had scared him off. “Remember before the 2010 election, when we saw him in that restaurant?” I said to her. Gabby remembered.
We had been at a restaurant in Washington and spotted Boehner, then the House minority leader, at another table. He was wearing a white shirt and a crisp tie, and was dining with ten other middle-aged men, all in white shirts and similar ties. Gabby wasn’t intimidated. As we were leaving the restaurant, she stopped by their table—a young female Democrat unafraid to stand before a group of older male Republicans and speak her mind.
“Hey, Leader Boehner, how are you doing? How’s everything going?” she said. He knew who she was. He nodded politely.
She got right to the point. “You stay out of my district,” Gabby said to him, a big smile on her face. “OK? Remember. Stay out of my district!” She was trying to be funny, but she was also giving him notice. She didn’t want him using the Republican war chest in the campaign against her. And she didn’t want him coming to Tucson to do fund-raisers for her opponent.
To my eyes, Boehner had an uncomfortable look on his face as Gabby spoke. He barely said hello, and no one else said a word.
“Well, good seeing you,” Gabby said to him, still smiling. Then she turned and waved, and we walked toward the door.
Now, less than a year later, Gabby was no longer able to deliver such self-assured patter. So much had changed since that night in Washington. But I wanted Gabby to know she still had it all in her. “Maybe Boehner doesn’t want to see you because he’s worried you’ll tell him to stay out of your district,” I said.
She smiled at me, and I could see the same twinkle in her eye that had carried her through that Washington restaurant.
Gabby still had a long way to go. I saw that. But in so many vital ways, she remained the person she always was. Her daily journey had been difficult and painful, but she had blossomed in this rehabilitation hospital. And it was exciting to contemplate the progress to come.
Sometimes, I felt almost elated. The parameters of a miracle were widening.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
STS-134
The launch of my mission on space shuttle Endeavour, postponed several times, was finally slated for April 29, 2011, a Friday afternoon. In the weeks leading up to it, doctors repeatedly said they could envision Gabby being well enough to travel to Florida to see me and my crew off. They didn’t commit to giving their blessings, but they thought it was appropriate for Gabby to make that a goal of her rehabilitation.
“See the launch,” she’d say repeatedly.
In mid-April, she went on a secret practice run to the airfield she’d fly out of, so the logistics of her departure could be ironed out. A special chair was brought along to get her up the stairs of the jet. Gabby vowed that on the day she actually traveled, she’d walk up the stairs if she could.
On April 24, we got the final OK from her medical team. Gabby was good to go. In their words she was “medically able.” It was a milestone. “Awesome!” was Gabby’s response when she learned the news.
Her doctors looked at it as a kind of field trip. Patients often left TIRR to attend special events or family functions, to help reacclimate them into their former lives. In Gabby’s case, her life before she was injured included her role as an astronaut’s wife. This would be a nice coming-out for her, and maybe helpful to her recovery.
By then, I had already begun serving seven days of quarantine