Kindness in the Countryside

When my late wife Kay first started her brain tumor journey, she was treated and seen by a neurosurgeon in Iowa City who performed her first two (of four) brain surgeries. This still was the case when I entered the picture. She would have a check-up with him every six months or so, depending on how things were going.

After one of these checkups, which brought a good report, Kay, her mom, Irene, and I were driving through the countryside on the way back to her parents’ farm, a little more than an hour or so southeast of Iowa City.

We were in good spirits. I was behind the wheel. As we flew over a hill we noticed a deputy sheriff parked, on the opposite side of the road, at the bottom. We passed him and he quickly turned around and pulled us over.

He went through the usual drill of asking whether I knew we were speeding, where we were coming from and where we were headed. I admitted that I may have been exceeding the speed limit and explained that we had come from Iowa City and that we were in good spirits because of a good report we had received about Kay. I explained further that she had for many years survived a brain tumor.

At this point, he had his violation book out and had begun to write a ticket. Then this young deputy teared up a bit and said his daughter – maybe of toddler age – had just been diagnosed with a brain tumor. He slammed his book shut and said, “Nope. I’m not going to do it,” and was gone. The three of us looked at one another and glanced around. He had literally vanished! Seriously, he and his car were nowhere to be seen.

To this day, we can’t explain the events on that county road in rural Iowa. But we believe the officer was overwhelmed by Kay’s story and maybe, just maybe, it gave him hope for his daughter.