Althea has Celiac disease meaning she cannot digest the gluten found in flour, and if she were to consume the toast and pancakes, it could cause intestinal complications. Speaking with the nurse, we quickly resolved this dietary issue.
After breakfast, the Respiratory Therapist came in for a treatment and cleaned out her trachea tube. With a simple dressing change and some deliberate coughs, she was as good as new.
Today, Althea focused on improving her dexterity. Bracing her left arm on the table, she scratched the top of her head. Resting her elbow on the arm of the chair, she scratched her nose. “I want my left arm to work and walk better,” she said looking at her left side.
Pausing from her physical therapy, she gazed into my eyes with a serious expression. I realized what she was about to say was important. “Are you angry with me for getting sick?”
Startled by her comment, I fired back without hesitation, “No, no, no, I am not. I have only love for you and I am sorry I gave you that impression.”
“You repeat the story about how my stroke happened and how I got here over and over. I was starting to think you were angry about it.”
Althea heard what I had been saying, even though I thought she had not. I was not listening to her and misinterpreting her signs. Regardless, I needed to be more sensitive and better scrutinize our interactions.
“When I see you wake up in the morning, you appear confused about where you are. You look surprised to see yourself here and not in your bed. When I ask if you know where you are, you have a blank expression on your face and do not respond. Sometimes, you say you cannot remember. I then volunteer this information to you again hoping your memory will return. Althea, I only want to support you and alleviate your concerns or fears.”
She did not respond but rather sat there quietly. This is a big issue. Althea would not have brought it up if it were not. As she sat there staring out the window, I reflected on my interactions with her. I misjudged Althea’s mental state. After all, her last words to me were the longest and most complex sentence she spoke. Her stroke did not impair her mental ability, I thought. I assumed these two matched, but this is not the case, this is not true.
Reality is typically difficult for anyone to perceive. Once a matching memory is found and valued as appropriate, you decide to interact similarly. Such interactions may not be appropriate to the reality of the moment. In Althea’s case, I assumed her mental state matched her physical state since her responses were so slow and her vocabulary so limited. Compounding this assumption was her inability to quickly express herself since I did not permit enough time for her to respond. I need more patience.
The Creator was wise in giving me two ears and one mouth. From this simple fact it makes sense to listen at least twice as much as I talk, or at least it should. Unfortunately, my competitive conditioning and defensive ego prevents me from doing what otherwise would appear to be common sense. Resorting to human doing rather than human being behaviors typically precipitates. Finding it within me to change and becoming more of a human being takes courage and unconditional love.
Interacting with Althea while she was in this compromised physical state showed me how little I lived in the moment. Like a bright warning sign flashing in the darkness, my behavior glared back at me and I felt awful. Saddened by my inability to find a level of common ground in which to interact helped me to use this feeling to change. Moving past my ego and into my soul, I found the strength to admit I was wrong and ask the Creator for help.
If I had not admitted to myself my interactions with Althea had missed the mark, I would have lost sight of the reason why I was there. If I had taken personally the things Althea was telling me, I would have lost sight of my goal. Recalling the Angels at our wedding vows gave me the strength to admit to myself I needed to change.
In finding the truth, I found what it is to love unconditionally—for my loved one and for myself. Just as when dogs are excited to see their owners every time they come home, so do I find excitement in giving love unconditionally. I prefer to feel peace and contentment over fear and resentment any day. Living in the moment helps me to do this.
Fumbling with her left hand, her lips contorted and she looked back up at me, “I really need to work on my left side. It just doesn’t respond the way I want it to. I need to do this so I can go home.” Grimacing, she raised her left arm showing me how frustrating this unresponsiveness was for her.
“Of course…now it is a struggle, but soon it will not. You are much better today than you were yesterday. Remember how you struggled getting out of bed?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Look at you now. Your arm and leg are better but not like they once were. In time, like your progress from yesterday, their functions will soon return.”
She gazed over at the twenty six cards on her wall. There they were; so many well wishes from friends and family surrounding her TV with our sketch of us on the bench hanging underneath. Impressed by all of the love and support, she tearfully said, “I understand... I just want for us to sit on our bench and toast to each other with that fresh cup of coffee.”
Hearing these words helped me understand her internal struggle. She is creating in her mind what outcome she wants. It excites me to know she is focused on this. “I know this is what we both want. We will get there, just not today.”
Continuing our ritual of reading, exercising, washing, and stretching, Althea settled into the moment but seemed depressed about her unresponsive limbs. “Let’s take a day off. Let’s just do nothing, no more exercising, no more thinking, no more stretching. I think you’re pushing yourself a little too hard and we need to take a break. Instead of paddling upstream, let’s paddle downstream today.”
“Sure. You know how I love to do that.”
One of Althea’s favorite activities is watching television. Given the right programs, she could sit there all night with her feet propped up with the remote control in her hand. Stories intrigued her and mysteries, fantasies, science fiction, and action adventures were among her favorites. She loved football and just started enjoying auto racing. With the football season gone, I flipped on the television for the first time since she was in the hospital searching for something to watch eventually finding an auto race.
We casually watched the race not really involved in the action. The whole time, her mind drifted off somewhere else. It was as if she were mindlessly keeping beat to a song rather than singing along. Since her left eye did not focus on the same point in space, she closed it so the race could be in focus. Keeping it closed was a challenge and after a while, she tired of trying and we turned off the TV. Despite her best efforts, her eyes demonstrated a will of their own. Another challenge.
Facing the window, she admitted, “I miss not being home.”
I confessed, “I really miss sleeping with you. I miss your touch and your warmth. I miss reading to you at night and talking together just before we nod off. I would love to crawl into bed and snuggle you close to me.”
Smiling at these words she lifted the sheets and said, “Well, there isn’t much room.”
Leaning over the railing, I hugged her close and said nothing. She hugged me back tighter, not wanting to let go. With a bed so small, hugs would have to do for now.
“So, tell me. What is the first thing you want to do when you get home?”
Without hesitation, she fired back, “I want to eat some Cheetos!”
We laughed together at this but I expected a very different answer like to visit friends or go to the park. But I guess that is what I would have done and not her.
Just then, Dr. DeWeese poked his head in. “How are you doing today Althea?” he said warmly as he moved around to her left side. Leaning over he looked at her incision scanning it and the site for complications.
“Fine,” Althea responded happy to see him so upbeat.
“You are doing extremely well and your trachea tube will come out next week. Once this is out, your recovery should incre
ase even more rapidly.” And with that, this busy man left like a leaf in a tornado.
Althea’s eyes widened and a broad smile returned to her face. This was good news and she was glad to hear it. “One more step…” I said sharing her joy. “…each step takes you closer to going home.”
Once these words left my lips, I realized very soon things were going to change yet again. Her hospital stay was coming to a close and much needed to be done in preparation. This time, it felt like I was shifting gears with the accelerator pedal slammed to the floor. I thought to myself, What will it be like with her at home? How will it feel to see her in our bed in the morning? What accommodations must I make to the house? Simple walks from the bedroom to the living room would seem like miles away through an obstacle course of chairs, throw rugs, and end tables. We’ll get things straightened out. That will be the easy part.
She slept most of the evening after dinner. I read again to her while she slept from another book using positive reinforcement techniques to get what you want from life. As ten o’clock neared, she was still sound asleep. I leaned over to kiss her goodnight and said, “Remember to focus on your favorite bench. Remember seeing the hawks flying overhead and smell the coffee in the warm breeze.”
Stirring, she whispered back, “I will.”
As I drove to Kimberly and John’s house, the thoughts of Althea’s anxiousness and her physical limitations gnawed at me. As I walked into the front door, Kimberly greeted me.
“How is Althea doing today?” she inquired as John joined us.
After greeting John I continued, “Today was a day of introspection. She was distant and not very talkative, as if preoccupied. She seems a little depressed having to stay in the hospital wanting to be home and her life to return as it once was.”
“Do you think you are spending too much time with her?” John asked.
“I thought of that, but there is no one else she asks for when I am with her. We have always been extremely close and relied on each other during times like this.”
“I understand…” John continued, “…but it may be time for professionals to come in and help her with her therapy. My aunt recently had a subdural hematoma very similar to Althea’s, but took much longer to leave the ICU. Althea is doing far better than this and because of it she will face some unusual challenges.”
“What do you mean?” I asked curiously.
“She probably feels like she doesn’t know how to heal the things inside her head that keep her from returning to normal life.”
“That she does. When she reflects on her limitations, she shuts down.”
“My aunt responded similarly…” he continued reaching for a book, “…and this is who we found that helped her.”
He handed me a book written by a pioneer in alternative treatments for severe closed-head injury patients. Flipping to an earmarked page, John pointed to a name and continued, “His name is Dr. Taub and he has had some amazing results with people who have had severely crippling strokes returning them to almost complete normalcy.”
John bookmarked the chapter on stroke victims and I started reading it, consuming the details with overwhelming excitement. It was true. Much of the behavior of the people in this book exhibited the same behavior Althea is now showing. “This is encouraging. There is a story where a patient—despite losing most of his coordination—relearned the piano, played tennis, and even successfully returned to his medical practice. This is quite a remarkable transformation from a beginning in a wheel chair. Althea will be glad to hear this!” I exclaimed.
This may be exactly the therapy she needs. I thought to myself. “Can I use your computer?” I asked.
“Use the children’s one upstairs any time you want,” Kimberly replied.
I thanked them and dashed up the stairs. Flipping on the computer, I found Dr. Taub’s web site, and emailed him with a brief description of Althea’s condition, and asked for his recommendations.
Pressing the “send” button, I shut down the computer and wandered wearily off to bed long after midnight. Althea will love to hear the news about this doctor.
Chapter 21 — March 10, 2008 — Day 19
* * *
Our first home in southwest Denver snuggled up against the striking foothills of the Rocky Mountains (called the Front Range by the locals). Weekend jaunts from this geographically strategic location spring-boarded us to remote places deep into the Colorado back country in no time at all. A leisurely hour’s drive took us to one of our favorite campsites in the backwoods of Pike National Forest. But being even this close to the wilderness she loved wasn’t close enough, and Althea dreamed to live amidst the tall trees and fresh air far from crowded civilization. Before long, some of our weekend jaunts searched for that perfect new home to fulfill her dream.
Each weekend we traveled further and further down the same highway falling more in love with the remoteness and striking beauty every time. However, finding that perfect location—with a grand view, enough acreage, and reasonable price—proved to be a time consuming ritual. On one jaunt in late March, traveling further down this highway than ever before, we came over a mountain pass and dropped into a sprawling valley of lightly developed communities. Here, the true Colorado mountain folk resided.
At the next major intersection, we came across a crooked sign pointing to a small real estate office on the gravel drive. Typical in rural areas, this office looked more like a large storage shed than a true place of business. Peeling green paint over aging concrete blocks, one large window, and an unadorned weathered door led to a small office holding two desks, a telephone, and a wall calendar with pictures of colorful wild flowers. A spunky young woman with short brown hair and a round face sat behind one of these desks and greeted us. Her tight blue jeans tastefully touched the tops of brown ankle-high hiking boots. Her yellow formal long-sleeved cotton shirt contrasted her other laid-back attire.
“Hello there. My name is Bonnie. Can I help you find that perfect home?” she proclaimed extending her hand to Althea and getting straight down to business.
“This is our first time in this area and we are looking for something small and off of the highway,” Althea replied shaking her hand.
“We have several homes that fit this description. Let’s take a drive and look at a few.”
Althea agreed, Bonnie grabbed the keys to her red Jeep Wrangler, and we all piled inside, Althea sitting in front. After the standard small talk of finding out where we came from and how long we lived in Colorado, Bonnie spun the steering wheel with her stubbly fingers and we dipped down the road and into the sunshine.
“Let’s look at a few homes that are ready to move into first,” Bonnie said turning off behind the next small store. “This development is called Kings Valley.” Filling us in on development history and local services, we drove through steep valleys and gazed at huge mountains and pristine forests. We liked the area.
After viewing a few homes on different parts of the mountain, all of which were on smaller lots near main roads, Althea looked at me concerned about the noise and inevitable dust. “Do you have anything less traveled…maybe on a cul-de-sac?” she asked Bonnie.
“I do but it is unimproved property. It’s a great place for a home with an amazing view of Rocky Mountain National Park.”
“Let’s go,” Althea said noticing the chipmunk dashing down the gulley in front of her.
We drove over the top of Conifer Mountain and wound down a steep winding road labeled Christopher Drive. Mostly unimproved and northwest facing, this rural area looked more like a ski resort than a residential community. “The parcels here are all larger since the land is so steep. This lot I am taking you to now is five acres.”
Pausing at a switchback, Bonnie pointed out the view. “This is roughly the view you would have. The lot is just below and to the north along this line of trees.”
The first intersection we came to dove down to our right at the end of which was a cul-de-sac just as Althea had as
ked for. Driving to the end, a steep snow covered stretch of virgin forest sprawled before us rising sharply into the sky. “The slope of the land is deceiving since we are driving down and the bank slopes up. The driveway would not be as steep as it appears.”
It looked pretty steep even adjusting for the conditions Bonnie pointed out. We all piled out and Althea charged off into the knee-high snow winding through a virgin stand of Aspen trees. Just past the stand, she turned to see if I was following. “What do you think?” she exclaimed.
“This looks pretty nice with all of these trees,” I responded trudging through the powdery snow in my low-cut tennis shoes. “I hadn’t planned on this; otherwise I would have worn my boots.”
“Look at this,” Althea said pausing at a large boulder. “Isn’t this wonderful?”
I struggled through the deep snow to where she paused. A boulder field sprawled in front of us as we lingered at its foot. “This feels very old,” she went on.
Althea: A Story of Love Page 30