After a minute, she responded as if I had just asked the question, “I have limited strength but I would like to see a few more of my friends. Tell them it’s alright to come.”
This could be a slow process. “Let’s call them and you can tell them yourself.”
A few brief calls later and things were arranged. Soon neighbors noticed both of our cars in the driveway and one by one these well intending souls dropped by. With each ring of the doorbell, more and more gifts of food piled up with each short visit. With well wishes expressed, each made a timely departure so as not to drain Althea’s limited strength.
After the last neighbor’s visit, Althea was overwhelmed by all of this stimulation and activity. I asked, “Do you want to take a break?”
“Yes. I am tired. I want to go back to bed.”
As she slept, I placed the items from her hospital room around her bed. As I draped the tobacco ties on the headboard and taped the colorful cards on the wall, I felt all of the prayers they held surround with love. In the living room, the sketch of us on the bench reappeared prominently below our television. It was like the healing energies that accelerated her recovery came with us from the hospital to our home. This feels right.
Althea arose after a few hours and her favorite friends, Pat and Kerry, dropped by. Pat, a feisty large-boned woman in her mid thirties, hovered over Althea like a mother hen herding her chicks. Her life partner, Kerry, sat with me watching these two cackle at small remarks.
“Tell me about how this happened,” Pat asked, her big brown eyes hanging on every word from Althea’s lips.
As she recalled the events, Althea became particularly emotional not feeling self pity but overwhelmed by gratitude for the speed of her recovery. “It’s been like a dream. I feel normal inside. I cannot get my body to do the things I want it to. It takes a while…”
Althea spoke in short sentences and quickly got out of breath by just talking. Ignoring her challenges, she enjoyed the moment and had a marvelous time visiting with these close friends.
“Would you two mind staying with Althea while I do some shopping?”
“No, not at all,” replied Kerry. “Take your time.”
“I just have a few errands to run and I’ll be back in about an hour.”
I sped off to the craft store to purchase items for a specific request from one of our best friends, Bill and Judy. His vision of a perfect gift for Althea was a basket full of paints and brushes waiting for her to recover. I searched the store and found such a basket.
Embellishing it with tiny purple and yellow flowers, I looked for plastic animals to complete the arrangement. Two bald eagles lay on a shelf at the end of the aisle as if they were waiting for me to notice them. I know exactly what I’ll do with these, I thought being inspired.
Tossing pipe cleaners, tape, and a bow into my basket, I sped through the checkout and back to my car. Driving home down the back roads, I thought of surprising Althea with this creation while Kerry and Pat were there. I snuck into my workshop with all of these adornments, fashioned Bill’s and Judy’s inspirational basket gift, and brought it in to Althea.
“This is what Bill and Judy wanted you to have,” I said presenting her with the basket.
Althea was thrilled by the thought that our old Air Force friends would be so creative as to do such a thing for her. She touched the purple flowers and tapped the two eagles I fashioned with wire making them appear to hover over the basket in flight. “I love it,” she said.
Bill and Judy’s Idea
Pat and Kerry left leaving Althea tired and worn out again. Slipping out of the chair and landing her forearms on the ottoman, she crawled along the floor of the living room and stopped at the center of the area rug unable to continue.
Joining her on the rug, I laid my head on the floor next to hers, our eyes staring into each other’s. “So what do we do now?” I asked jokingly.
Althea laughed and said, “I am weaker than I think I am. I just need to rest and this seemed like a good place to lie down.”
I grabbed a pillow from the couch and tucked it under her head. Wrapping my arms around her, we cuddled together there in the middle of the living room floor and slept. Where she ended up was good enough. I love this about her.
After a late lunch, we watched a few of our movies just relaxing and enjoying each other’s company. She moved with deliberate thoughtfulness. Simple motions became intentional acts. Routine mannerisms were no longer unthinkingly performed and automatic. Each motion required scrutiny without which her body appeared to have a mind of its own.
Still trembling, her hand shook uncontrollably as she helplessly watched. “I can’t get it to stop…” she said grasping the shaking limb with the other. She looked over at me continuing, “…once it starts shaking, I must grab it to stop it.”
“I see,” I said not knowing just what to say. “I’m sure this will get better too. After all, this is just your first full day home from the hospital. Some things may take longer to get back to normal than others. Maybe a hot shower would calm it down. What do you think?”
“That sounds nice.”
Being very weak, I wrestled her into the wheelchair and drove her into the master bathroom. Our large one-piece shower stall is equipped with a built-in bench positioned directly across from the showerhead.
Despite all of the attempts to properly bathe Althea while in the hospital, nothing compares to completely immersing your entire body under running water. Getting in the shower with her, we scrubbed, rinsed, and scrubbed again everywhere to remove all of the hidden dirt and smells. Even shampooing her stubbly hair brought her instant relief. Two full showers later, she stood holding the towel rack under her own power, and I dried her off with fresh towels.
“Can you stand here for a few moments while I get your pajamas and robe I laid out on the bed?”
“Yes. I’m good for now.”
I walked back into the next room and grabbed her clothes off of the bed. Suddenly, I heard a sharp thud and frantically ran back into the bathroom. There sat Althea on the floor in front of the wheelchair.
“What happened?” I said hyperventilating.
“Oh, I just wanted to sit down and I missed the wheelchair.”
My mind instantly dove into the fantasy of catastrophe. What if she had hit her head? I thought scanning her for any sign of injury. “Did you hit your head?”
“No. I just bruised my ego.”
My heart was racing. Calm down now Phil…she’s alright. No harm done. Her tailbone may be bruised but it doesn’t appear broken. Calm down…
Getting her properly dressed, we returned to the living room and I moved her into her favorite chair. I don’t want to discourage her, but I am concerned about her overdoing herself. “You really scared me back there.”
“I scared myself too,” she replied sheepishly.
“What can we do to keep you safe so this doesn’t happen again?”
“I promise I won’t try that again. I have to get stronger.”
Relieved at what she said, I only half believed her knowing her inclination to spurts of independence.
Allowing someone to try—and potentially fail—has been and always will be my firm belief. People learn lasting lessons from failure and fleeting lessons from success. With this failure, Althea will at least consider the option of hurting herself before repeating that maneuver sometime soon. One day, she may fall again. If she does, my heart may be torn much in this same way, but such is an essential part of life, one of which I have no right to deprive her.
The thought of Althea severely hurting herself—enough to cause another subdural hematoma—remains a distant thought in my mind. Like children learning to watch for cars when crossing a street, Althea will naturally keep her head from potential injury. I choose to suppress these feelings and embrace the now, being thankful for what I have.
Althea tired shortly after her shower and I tucked her into bed. With the house still and darkness all a
round, I picked up my journal and reflected on this wondrous day. With my back aching from lifting and carrying her, I snuggled into the covers and leaned over watching her snore. This snoring was very different from that day over three weeks ago. Then, she sounded like someone who hadn’t slept in days with loud rhythmic bellowing regularity. Now, she sounds more like someone with moderate nasal congestion supplemented by an occasional light outburst. Thankful for this mild snoring, I held her hand in mine, closed my eyes, and drifted off to sleep. Thank you, Creator, for today.
Chapter 27 — March 21, 2008 — Day 30
* * *
After that first blind date on the cliffs in the Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge of Oklahoma, Althea and I were married nine agonizingly long months later. Although through our engagement we truly wanted to be with each other, as distance relationships go ours was no different. Living in separate states meant that long phone calls and even longer letters were our main methods of connecting. In such a challenging time, we succumbed to stereotypical strains and experienced normal ups and downs. At our lowest point, Althea considered breaking up. But with a bit of luck and unwavering perseverance, we worked things out and magnificent fall wedding bells rang in Madison, Tennessee.
Our honeymoon consisted mainly of traveling by car to parties in southern Wisconsin and an unavoidable military obligation in San Antonio, Texas. Spending a lot of time on the road, we visited tourist spots along the way and found we traveled great distances together extremely well. We were growing together finding out all of our individual hopes and dreams beyond what one learns while dating. Inside of a bright orange 1970 Plymouth Duster 340, we drove down the road of married life.
The Mighty Duster
While marriage is frightening to some who fear such commitments, our attitude from the start along with our love made this transition into wedlock a welcomed change. We looked constantly at our rings holding them up next to each other marveling at how well they matched. Shining brightly, Althea’s diamond glistened like the sun; its facets sparkled as she moved her arm. Young love is a fantastic time and during this trip we truly found each other.
After this whirlwind sightseeing tour, Althea went back to Randolph AFB, and I to Altus AFB. After three of the most stressful weeks of our life, she received transfer orders to Altus and we were finally together. An Airman First Class, Althea worked in the communications building decoding messages and managing the switchboard. I was a Sergeant working on the flight line as an assistant crew chief of the new C-5A Galaxy aircraft. After a month together, we managed to get on the same shift, and life started to settle down into some semblance of normalcy.
Being married while in the military brings its own challenges. Since so many soldiers in the early 1970s found their demise on foreign battlefields, occasionally couples were separated and sent to different bases based on their individual skill sets and the needs of the war. While we both chose career fields that kept us far from the front lines, there was still a burning feeling of uncertainty that one day we could part.
But life in the military during war changes people regardless of whether or not you stare down a gun sight at someone staring back at you through theirs. Much like a fireman waiting for a call, there is an overwhelming sense of seriousness, responsibility, and spontaneous mobility unlike any other civilian vocation. Literally at any instant, anyone could be pulled from one duty location and thrust into another. While some people found this exhilarating, we did not. So for the six years of our combined tours, such thoughts lay unspeakably dormant in the backs of our minds.
Unafraid of fighting, I feared what I could lose as a result of conflict. I saw what happened first hand in the solemn disbelieving expressions on the faces of friends reading war-time orders. There is a moment of panic and another of fantasy when their eyes stare off into the distance as if trying to imagine their outcome. In my own fantasy, I had a terrible, gnawing feeling in my gut—a premonition where I would live through the battles, but part of my spirit would die there. Part of me would never return.
Fortunately, we stayed together and found both adventure and life-long friends as a result. Life lessons unteachable in classrooms came every day raising consciousness and encouraging growth into adulthood. Embracing the consequences of your own choices was the greatest lesson. Being accountable and responsible, being there for each other and your friends, working together as a team under difficult conditions, and understanding what you did not want were all valuable lessons we learned in the service to our country.
For Althea, she found marriage a commitment whose length she could not conceive. The words …till death do you part… from our wedding vows rumbled deep within her. As our first anniversary drew near, she approached me with that sober expression I grew to recognize as when something profound was about to fall from her lips.
“Phil, I need to talk to you,” she began slowly.
“What is it?” I responded curiously and somewhat uncomfortably.
“Our anniversary is coming up and I want to make it special. I want to establish a tradition and for our anniversary to always have a special meaning.”
“What do you have in mind?” answering less defensively.
“Each year I want a bouquet of yellow roses, like those at our wedding. Each year I want one more flower added for that anniversary. This year, I want one yellow rose and next year two.”
“That sounds like great idea!” I said enthusiastically relieved. “Anything else?”
“Do you remember on our honeymoon I told you I only wanted to marry you one year at a time?”
“Yes…” I remembered the moment and tried to forget it, hoping it was just a whim.
“Well, I meant it. We should make a list of things we like and dislike about our relationship and discuss them at the time of our renewal ceremony.”
Not understanding what this meant, I blindly agreed. “So like an annual performance review at a job, we would evaluate each other and give feedback?”
“Yes. Much like that, except we would talk about our goals and our personal issues. From a place of love, we would tell each other what is on our minds. Do you think you can do this?”
Uncertain as to how this would work out and not really grasping the idea, I decided to try since I loved this woman more than anything. “Okay, let’s try it and see how it works out. I’m not sure what you mean, but I will do my best and as we do this, I’m sure I will catch on.”
As a twenty one year old, I was not in touch with my feelings or inner self. All I wanted from life was fun and adventure. Like most males, the only feelings I understood were pain, sex, and happiness. But this was completely foreign to me. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I have to know what I’m feeling? What the heck is that all about?
For our first year, our lists consisted of minor issues and major praises on how well we worked together as a team. Our love grew as a result. What we said to each other was told from the heart intending to make our relationship more than what it was. Soon we looked forward to each and every anniversary, and as the size of the bouquet grew, so did the intensity of each renewal of our vows. This was a great idea.
Wanting to make each anniversary more special than the last, we took weeks to plan out our lists and rewrite our vows. Each year, there was a chance for change where we would not agree we could stay together. So each year we approached every anniversary with sobering, serious intentions. Some years, we negotiated unsettling issues and in their resolutions rose above petty ego-based positions. This transformed our relationship from one of taking each other for granted to one of building our life together. It opened up channels of communication and made us accountable for our words and our actions. For us, this is exactly what our relationship needed.
As our anniversaries flew by, we decided to combine trips to special places along with these ceremonies. Sometimes, we would check into five star hotels or travel to distant places and see new things. Other times, we would visit wilderness
areas that touched our hearts and nurtured our adventurous spirits. On one such wilderness anniversary, we drove westward toward Moab, Utah.
Packing our tent, card table, and chairs, we set out in our little Subaru for an anniversary weekend in the high dry desert of Canyonlands National Park. With its magnificent beauty and serene expansive spaces, we drove into the park winding through the endless canyons finding a secluded spot against a backdrop of red sandstone cliffs. Here we set up camp under the brilliant stars building a small fire whose light wavered against the steep rock ridges.
Being alone in the wilderness was a common experience for us at this stage of our marriage. We had already ventured many times to remote places carrying everything we needed in and out. Our backpacks were well worn from filling and emptying, from rain and snow, and as we opened them up memories of these many experiences flashed into our minds.
Althea: A Story of Love Page 38