Her left arm reached up trying to scratch the corner of her mouth, but was still unable to do so. She is definitely determined to make all of her limbs work as normal; I am glad of that.
Looking around the room, she spotted the chair and motioned to me she wanted to sit in it. Getting help from the nurses, we put Althea in the chair with reasonable ease. Once I observed their eloquent technique, I was confident I could do this alone.
Trying to give her a fresh view, I turned Althea’s chair around to look out the windows. Their window ledge was at about the height of her eyes so she couldn’t see all that much. The blinds were broken so view was mostly obstructed. What she did see was mostly rooftops and air conditioning ducts. “Not much to see,” she mouthed back to me.
I heard what she had just said. Her restlessness and her desire for movement and stimulation were growing. Rolling up the blinds, I tied them back with the dangling draw string, and moved my chair around so she could look outside and still see me. Her eyes scanned the treetops for signs of birds and squirrels. Like an animal pacing in a cage, she saw the world just beyond her confines and longed to join it. Grabbing the book, I started reading to her.
It was obvious her boredom was reaching new heights and giving her a fresh perspective of an old room helped ease the strain. Her restlessness demonstrated her disappointment with two days of broken promises of moving to another room. She eventually stopped fidgeting and listened to the story.
At one point, her eyes glazed over as her thoughts drifted off into the waving treetops. I set down the book and said with a smiling sober face, “Soon, we will be outside instead of just imagining what it feels like from your room.”
As we sat there, it was clear she had progressed to a new level in her recovery and I needed to match my methods of interaction with this level. Although the Creator was answering my prayers for her curing, I didn’t realize what else would come with this miracle. I felt like I was shooting at a moving target in a carnival arcade constantly having to adjust myself to properly engage her ever changing abilities. Continually shifting gears became the norm and would remain so for the rest of her recovery.
People are creatures of habit and we feel most comfortable with the status quo. But when abrupt change enters our lives, we typically long for “the way it used to be” rather than embracing “what is.” When Althea stared outside her window at the rustling tree branches, she thought about what it would be like to be outside and her agitation resurfaced. But when she settled into appreciating the beauty of the moment focusing on the now instead of the past or the future, her happiness returned.
As she watched the branches sway, a little twinkle glistened in her eye like diamonds sparkling in the sun. Noticing more and more subtleties in the churning leaves, a cute little curl first appeared at the edge of her lip and grew into broad smile. It was as if the sights of the outdoors recharged her batteries.
Just then, my cell phone rang and the caller-ID showed it was her sister. “Hi Shannon. How are you today?” I said with a cheerful voice.
“Fine. How is my sister doing?”
I turned to Althea and said, “It’s your sister. Would you like to talk with her?”
Althea shook her head up and down.
“Shannon. Althea cannot talk just yet but I will hold the phone up to her ear so she can hear you.”
As Shannon talked with Althea, I passed on in words all of Althea’s gestures and reactions. They talked for a while and Shannon told her that a package she sent should be here today. Althea was delighted. A gift from her sister meant something handmade and Althea treasured such things.
As soon as we hung up, the phone rang again and a close friend from Colorado called. We talked for a while in this same way and Althea’s spirits soared. The Creator once again gave her exactly what she needed!
After these calls, I excused myself from Althea and went out to the nurse’s station. I noticed for the past three days her arm was shaking more than usual, and I wanted to talk to one of the attending nurses about. “Hi,” I said to one of the nurses behind the desk.
“Can I help you?” she said.
“Yes. Has Althea had any prescriptions recently added to her care plan, say in the past week?”
Flipping through the pages in her chart, the nurse responded, “Why yes, she has. There was an anticonvulsive medication prescribed by a consulting physician four days ago. Why do you ask?”
“For the past three days, her arm shaking has gotten worse and I just can’t figure out why. Could this drug have such a side effect?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Althea has extreme sensitivities to certain types of drugs. This may be a case where her inherent hypersensitivity is causing her arm to shake. Something just doesn’t feel right and I want this medication stopped until we can rule it out.”
“I’ll have to talk with the doctor about that…” she responded with frustration written all over her face.
“Okay. Let’s do that. But for now, I do not want her to have any more of this medication until I speak with the physician.”
The nurse agreed and made some notes in Althea’s chart as I walked back to her room.
Being an advocate for Althea’s care can have its uncomfortable moments. In questioning the need for this prescription, I felt an underlying uneasiness unfold during our conversation. Sharing my concerns with Althea’s team assures her the best possible care, even when all I have to go on is a subjective observation. While the nurse drew on her training and knowledge to establish her position, my unscientific gut told me something was amiss. With only faith backing up my position, it is inevitable such feelings arise. Time will tell if this is a coincidence.
Lunch is a big production and fortunately Althea was already sitting in her chair. As luck would have it, Shannon’s package arrived just after her tray was in place. Like a young child on her birthday, Althea’s excited eyes darted to the door and her arms reached out for brown cardboard box. Moving the lunch tray to a side table, she set the package down on her lap and her trembling hands tried to peel back the tape. Turning the package over and over to find an easier way inside, she eventually gave up. Looking up at me with sad puppy dog eyes, I saw she needed help and lifted an edge of the tape just enough to let her slide her finger underneath.
Given enough time, Althea opened the box and found two hand-knitted hats and a sweater-vest inside. She was ecstatic. She put on the matching blue-violet pair—her favorite color—and looked into the mirror. I had to laugh, “You look in fashion now, Althea.” Grinning back wildly at me, she appeared happier than she had been for the last two days.
She faced a similar challenge when trying to open the included card. Again, helping her out by prying up an edge, she slipped her finger along the slot and slowly removed the colorful card. As she opened it, I Can’t Get No—Satisfaction by the Rolling Stones blared from the fold. The buzzing distortion of Brian Jones’ lead guitar harmoniously complimented Mick Jagger’s undeniable and well established vocal style.
She set down the card, glanced into a nearby mirror, adjusted her hat, and straightened her vest quite pleased with her appearance. Such bold colors in the ICU stood out like a bright neon sign flashing in the Las Vegas night. Showing off her new wardrobe boosted her sagging spirits. This was perfect!
Eating her lunch was transformed into a social event now that the boring hospital gown colors were replaced with fun loving, bolder ones. Her excitement took its toll on her energy level, and after eating she fell fast asleep. Lying there in her new clothes, she seemed more peaceful and more complete.
Althea’s First Real Meal
Sleeping most of the day, I read aloud to her as she slumbered in her soft, cuddly attire. I paused at the end of a chapter and watched her sleep thinking of the huge impact this simple gift had made. To fully appreciate this gift, Althea first need to fully experience the growing boredom, impatience, repetition, and uneventful routines of a prolonged hospital st
ay. It was the timing of this gift—not too early and not too late—that raised her spirits as high as they did.
Timing events makes all the difference in the world. Gifts without proper thought and preparation have meaning, but when thought through and properly planned create more feelings than the gift alone. Not only does the receiver feel special, the giver sees the joyous reaction and feels even better because of it. When I called Shannon and shared Althea’s reaction to her clothes, it gave Shannon a bigger gift than Althea received. Shannon’s heart swelled with pride in not only making something with her own hands for her sister, but also in hearing of Althea’s happiness upon its receipt.
When dinner finally arrived, I pried open her right eye and lovingly said in a melodic voice, “Hello in there. Dinner is here. Wake up!”
Althea slowly came around waking from her sound sleep stretching and yawning, caressing her vest with her hand. After dinner, I made up a card game to add more change to her routine. We would cut the deck and see who had the higher card. Before her stroke when playing cards with me, Althea would usually win. Although frustrating for me, my inferior card playing ability brought her much joy. I continued to play with her knowing well that—despite my best strategies and most sincere efforts—I would probably lose.
With Althea’s limited mental abilities, she was unable to play more complicated games and had to rely on pure luck. Today was not her lucky day. She consistently drew cards lower than mine and I was amazed at how quickly she lost interest. After six or seven hands, she put her hand on top of the deck announcing to me she was done. I looked over at her laughing and said, “It’s not as much fun when you lose, is it? I play cards and enjoy losing to you because I love watching you win. There is a cute little smirk you get on your face that tells me you’re feeling superior. Although it’s just a game, you take it so seriously.”
We then played a few games of tic-tac-toe. Again, she lost because of her ability, and was fine for two or three games. Then she decided she wanted to win and made up her own rules. She put four Xs on the grid before I could put anything down. In her own way she found how to win. I saw this as progress and went along with the game marveling at the drawing of various shapes around the grid that traced out the winning line. This gave me an idea.
Taking the pencil, I drew a spiral on a blank sheet of paper and said, “Do you recognize this? Does this mean something to you?” Spirals were the last creative elements Althea incorporated into her artwork. Before her stroke, she studied spirals and their appearances in nature. Incorporating them in her artwork, she expressed her connection with this universal pattern.
Althea grabbed the pencil and added more and greatly-varied spiraling shapes to this single symbol. She drew arcs and curves outward from the existing arms and I watched dumbfounded as she connected with her creative self. Even the wildest and most raging storm begins with the slightest rustling of a single leaf. In her intrigued eyes, I saw Althea’s leaves beginning to rustle.
Drawing one big spiral on a new piece of paper, I said to her, “I’m going to dinner and then I’m going home. I’ll be back tomorrow. See what you can do with this and I will talk to you about it when I return.”
She looked at the new page peering beyond its physical confines. I walked out the door glancing back as I did, and she had not yet begun adding to this new drawing. But it was easy to see the storm stirring inside her mind.
After a quick sandwich at a nearby restaurant, I changed my mind about going home and went back to the hospital to be with her for a few more hours. I missed being with her whenever I was away. I wanted to be there—even just for a few minutes—to see what was happening and how she had changed. I wanted to experience with her the transitions from rustling leaves to gusty winds to driving rains. I wanted to be completely involved.
Although late, I again got my favorite parking spot and soon found myself walking back into Althea’s room. I spent a little time with her just sitting and talking. I held her hand and professed my love to her in the deepest and most sincere ways I could muster.
“Althea, I did not know how much more I could love you until this happened. The thought of you leaving me behind here in this life was painful to me, and I am very grateful you are still here. I really like you and I miss being with you. I couldn’t leave, not just yet. I had to come back and see you one more time.”
She smiled and softly stroked my cheek. We hugged and I kissed her over and over again. Her soft, tender lips pressing against mine and she kissed me with even more passion than before.
I put my head on the tray table and longingly looked at her. With our eyes locked, she nodded her head and whispered, “You should go home.”
I reluctantly kissed her goodnight again and we waved several times to each other as I left. I could still see her looking at me as I finally passed through the last set of doors across the room. Although my heart was sad to do so, my eyes were heavy and told me I needed my rest.
Her storm is brewing…
Chapter 18 — March 7, 2008 — Day 16
* * *
Attending a Native American wedding on a wind-swept farm in Parker, CO, we watched our good friends take their sacred vows in the shadows of a painted teepee while Kestrels screeched along barbed wire fence posts. A sacred fire—the focal point of this ceremony—blazed in the breeze while a Medicine Man sang traditional Lakota songs. The two buckskin-clothed youngsters boldly approached the fire. As the evening colors from the setting sun streaked across the clouds, smoke from a long-stemmed ceremonial pipe joined the glorious colors announcing the completion of this unusual and spiritually moving event.
Shortly after this ceremony, these two newlyweds stayed with us for a few days in our humble Conifer home. Bringing the high mountain beauty to these youngsters gave us great honor in helping them begin their lives. Standing on our deck and looking west, the thick evergreen forest carpeted the sparsely populated valley with huge grey rock outcroppings dotting the distant mountainside. With unobstructed views of snow covered Long’s Peak and the distinctive long saddle of Mount Audubon, this view was indeed breathtaking.
The View from Blizzard Gulch
As the two settled into their stay, we observed spiritual ceremonies and took wilderness walks enjoying each other’s company in the solitude of our rural home. Affectionately named Blizzard Gulch, the steep terrain and lush north-facing setting was a spectacular place to visit in early fall—just before the snows came. Warm days and fresh evenings enhanced the golden hews of Aspen leaves as they shed their cool green colors for their full fall brilliance. It was heavenly.
Making their living by trading and selling hand-made old-west memorabilia, the couple spent the entire weekend with us before heading off to a traditional early western Rendezvous deep in the mountains near Buffalo Creek. I bid my adieus to them the night before, and the next morning left for work before they arose.
Prior to their departure, the woman told Althea something she observed during her stay. “Phil is picking up stray spirits and bringing them back home. He needs to stop this and you need to cleanse the house of these unwanted guests.”
This felt like good advice, so the two engaged in a prolonged discussion of precisely how to accomplish this. Shortly after lunch with this youngster’s counsel and wisdom in hand, Althea bid our guests farewell and began gathering the sage, instruments, and sacred items needed for this spiritual cleansing ceremony.
Pipe Ceremony Materials
Scattering a circle of sage branches at the center of the living room, Althea chanted the songs and said the words our guest had shared, and soon created a sacred space within our house.
Arriving home without prior knowledge of this event, I walked into the front door and immediately smelled the refreshing scent of burning sage. Turning the corner into the living room, I found Althea on the floor with all of the furniture pushed aside sitting inside a large circle of sage. Much like the incense swung from the elaborate burners of Catholic Prie
sts, the sage smoldered skyward from a large sea shell on the floor next to Althea’s feet, its smoke spiraling into the air. Althea drummed steadily and glanced up at me. Pausing, she raised her finger to her nose and lips, mouthed the sign to be silent, and motioned with her hand inviting me into this circle of sage.
Without a word, I removed my shoes and sat across from her with the sacred items in between. When I crossed the perimeter of this ring of sage, I actually felt a resistance like dipping into a warm lake and feeling the surface close over the top of my head. A ripple in the shield she created closed behind me as I stepped through.
With a traditional leather-wrapped ceremonial rattle, I kept beat with Althea’s rhythmic drumming. The sounds of the house disappeared and much like the perfect acoustics of the whispering gallery of St. Paul’s Cathedral in London, our words to each other were amplified across this small space. Althea began, “Our friend told me something she sensed while staying with us. She said you brought home stray spirits from work and we needed to clean them out.”
Althea: A Story of Love Page 26