Althea: A Story of Love
Page 45
I have found that bargaining with the Creator never works. The typical prayers I have made in the past of “If you do this…then I will do that” seem to fall on deaf ears. But when praying from my spirit, the part of me that is the breath behind the breath, it feels right. Turning my problems over—telling the Creator how I feel and what I am concerned about—and then letting go is all I can do. The rest is up to the infinite wisdom of the Creator.
Althea’s intensity of her Kundalini Awakening dramatically slowed down immediately after this prayer. Although still lingering at a low level, her spontaneous twitching ceased as did the stressful cringes in her face. Resting without interruption from bodily contortions, I sat beside her noticing her peace. Like a dusting of snow blanketing the ground, calm covered the room. The Creator heard me. I was elated!
Joy comes in many forms and with Althea lying there in the stillness, I felt filled with such joy that even the ends of my hairs celebrated. My heart soared and a prayer of gratitude spontaneously fell from my lips. In a euphoric state, my spirit danced inside my body and I raised my fists and eyes to the sky. Opening my palms, I extended my fingers and said under my breath, Thank you, thank you, thank you!
Uncertain as to how long this would last, I was grateful for what was. In September of 2008, the jolts and surges slowly returned and over the next few months regained its original intensity. Her bliss has also returned as did her spiritual focus, and we have prayed many times the prayers of thanks for her continued curing.
Layers upon layers of life experiences unfold with every decision. Knowing what is the right choice at a crossroad is impossible to understand and any outcome difficult to accurately predict. Althea’s roller-coaster spiritual journey and resulting Kundalini Awakening has brought very interesting decisions to us. Without interesting decisions, a mediocre mindless life running on autopilot is all we can expect, and our principles and integrity will never be defined. Any decision is always yours to make and yours alone. Listening to what so called experts advise is just that: advice. Wisely using this advice is the rub.
Difficult decisions define who we are and build our character. The more difficult the decision, the more our character grows and the more our spiritual self is awakened. I will never regret the choice of explaining my concerns to the Creator rather than bargaining for Althea’s healing. Like a magnifying mirror, it showed me where I stand rather than what my lips say to others. It showed me my true character.
Spiritual ceremonies are routinely practiced at regular intervals by organized religions. Jews celebrate the Sabbath at sundown each Saturday evening, Muslims face Ka'bah (Mecca) for daily prayers, and Catholics celebrate Mass on Sunday mornings. Althea and I perform a Native American Pipe Ceremony each Sunday morning. Using the same pipe Althea clung to while lying in her hospital bed, we sing sacred songs and say prayers that allow us quiet time for internal reflection.
Honoring the technique our teachers showed us, Althea fills her pipe with sacred herbs while singing a traditional song. Speaking aloud so that I may hear and support her, heartfelt prayers erupt from her spirit and explode into the air. When finished, she hands her pipe to me and I also speak my innermost prayers aloud. Passing the pipe back to her, Althea lights the herbs, offers our prayers to the cardinal directions, and passes the pipe back to me. Taking several puffs, I think about what I had just prayed for. Passing the pipe back to Althea, she smokes the remaining herbs until they are gone.
Believing the smoke from the pipe contains our prayers, this ceremony symbolizes letting go of a prayer and sending it to the Creator. As the smoke disappeared into the air, our feelings from our heavy hearts dissolve into the ethers.
“I want to go back to the hospital ICU with a few dozen doughnuts to help celebrate this inspirational and emotional time in our lives. I want to thank all of them for doing what they did and helping you in the ways that they could,” I said with gratitude filling my heart.
“What if they are gone?”
“It’s the thought that counts. I am going to do this as a giveaway—part of my giving back for what I received during this time.”
After the ceremony and a quick breakfast, we traveled to Tampa to give back to the workers in the ICU. Picking up two boxes of hand-selected doughnuts, we drove into that familiar parking lot and left the car with the valet. Now under her own power, Althea walked through the doors that once marked the boundary between a normal life and those struggling to survive. Holding only onto my arm for balance, we stepped into the busy venue of an active Intensive Care Unit.
“Do you recognize anyone?” I asked her.
“No, not yet. This looks like a different shift of people.”
Approaching the desk with our arms full of treats, the unsuspecting Charge Nurse looked up above the rim of her glasses from behind the counter and greeted us with that familiar phrase, “Can I help you?”
Althea moved to the counter and placed one box of the doughnuts on the ledge. “These are for you and your colleagues. I was here about a year ago and I wanted to give back a little for what you did for me.”
“That’s nice. I’m sure our team will remember you. What was your name?” the nurse said grabbing a pen to write on the box.
“Althea Rose. I was in that room right over there last February,” she said pointing to the room over her shoulder. Although the bed was in the same position, a new patient lay much in the same way Althea did—asleep with her head turned slightly to one side.
“R—O—S—E, right?” the nurse spelled out. “How do you spell your first name?”
In a few moments, Althea added a personal note to the words already written by the nurse. A message of heartfelt thanks and gratitude flowed from the pen like sands through an hourglass. She could barely stop writing and then signed it. Althea took the second box from me and handed it also to the nurse.
“I’ll make sure everyone gets some,” the nurse said.
Walking through the corridor between the rooms, Althea spotted the Respiratory Technician who suctioned out her airways so many times. “I recognize him,” she said pointing to a tall, thin man working next to the bed of a person in obvious breathing distress.
When Althea’s finger pointed at the man, he looked up at Althea and recognized her. Blinking his eyes and waving his chin, Althea waited outside the door until he finished. Turning and walking through the door, the man said some parting words to the person lying in the bed and then walked out into the hallway by Althea. “I remember you. You were the one who had so much phlegm right after your surgery. How are you doing?”
Althea walked up to him and shook his hand. “I’m doing well and I wanted to thank you for your help. You were there for me and I would not be here now shaking your hand if you had not.”
“I appreciate that. Most times people leave here and we never know what happens to them. I am happy to see you doing so well. I’ll tell the others about your rapid recovery. You are doing amazingly well considering the severity of your injury.”
I stepped back and let them chat alone for a while. Of all the people she recalled during her stay, this therapist and Dr. DeWeese were ones she remembered the best. As they said their goodbyes, I remembered the frantic feelings I felt when walking through those doors the first time. I saw myself searching for Althea’s room and desperate to see her face. Seeing her asleep gave me reassurance, and now with her completely changed my feelings are likewise.
“Let’s go downstairs before we leave,” I said.
Riding down the elevator, I thought of all the times I rode it up and down during that twenty three day stay. We turned toward the cafeteria, arm in arm, and walked past the counter.
“No free hamburgers today?” Althea said jokingly.
Strolling past the tables to the distant door, we walked into the courtyard and over to the water garden. “I don’t remember it looking quite like this,” she said.
The flowers were new and the grass longer. Everything about the area felt
different as if it too had grown in the time since we were last here. “I’m ready to go now,” she said.
“There is one more place I want to show you. Are you hungry?”
We left the hospital and drove down the street to one of the restaurants I went to with Lois. “It’s hidden behind the trees over here on the left.” It was here I gave myself my first break from Althea’s bedside. Lois took me here to get me away and feed me better food than the sandwiches and salads I had relied on.
This Thai restaurant was sort of a landmark in the hospital community with small plaques inscribed with the names of well known physicians. These patrons voluntarily contributed to the remodeling of their favorite dining establishment. We sat in the same booth Lois and I did and I started to tell Althea about this meal.
“Did Lois come to see me?” she asked with a puzzled look on her face.
“Yes, several times. This is where she took me twice during her visits.”
Althea could not remember any of the visits from Lois but knew exactly who she was. “I just don’t remember much from the first few days. Things and events are very blurry.”
“It was a relief to get away from the hospital and have a real meal since existing on hospital cafeteria food, vitamins, and protein bars wasn’t exactly optimum nutrition. Lois was very supportive of both you and me. She is a good friend indeed.”
I held Althea’s hand and looked longingly into her eyes saying, “There was a time when after your surgery I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it. But I never gave up hope, not for an instant. As a result of this and all of the support from our friends at church, you pulled through. Each day you got stronger and each day I was more encouraged. This plus the ability to see even the tiniest changes in your recovery kept me going. I was always alert to them and tried to recall all of them in my journaling.”
Life is very good for us today. We communicate better, have huge amounts of time together, and watch a lot of television. This is one of my favorite things to do—to see her enjoying herself once again in her life—and when she gets that certain expression of joy and glee in her eyes, my heart just melts. I am truly grateful.
This one-year anniversary from her stroke will be a very emotional time for the both of us. I can see her eyes swell up when we talk about it, my head just gets light, and I feel a little dizzy. There is nothing like a good relationship—nothing in the world. To look lovingly into someone’s eyes and see them returning that love back to you in theirs is an incredible feeling and one I will always cherish.
Since our first meeting, Althea and I have felt this way for each other, and is the main reason we got and stayed together. Our love was always the most important thing to us, even when we were having trouble in our relationship. That twenty-year mark was a rough time for us where I was trying to get ahead in the company and create a better life. This is not what Althea needed at the time and we just missed discussing things with each other. We both tried to do what we wanted but never really discussed what we needed. It’s amazing we survived but despite Althea’s infidelity and my emotional cruelty, we learned what we needed to help our relationship thrive. Forgiveness of each other—and especially for ourselves—was a key element, but love was still the most important ingredient.
I look forward to the day we will sit on the bench and see not one but two hawks flying overhead. The picture, now showing its age, still remains displayed below the television so we can both see it. Althea said to me, “We should frame it and hang it up.” I agreed. This is an extremely important symbol to us about the state of our relationship. In a single image, it displays all of the accomplishments we made in achieving the goals we wanted. What a prize!
After enjoying the day, we drove home and made our way out to the bench. Sitting there reflecting on the people in the hospital and the restaurant, I went back inside, heated up some left over morning coffee, and brought it out to Althea who was already staring up at the sky.
I sat down next to her and our mugs clinked together. “Do you see anything?” I asked this eagle-eyed woman.
“No, not yet. But we still have much to drink.”
And then it happened. Althea strained her neck at a single spot high in the clouds. Scrutinizing the soft folds and billows, her eyes opened wide and she shouted pointing to the edge of one. “There! Over there!” she exclaimed nearly spilling her coffee. “Two hawks right over there!”
Still too far away for me to make out, I squinted trying to see what Althea was so excited about. “Can you see them?” she said.
“No, but that does not surprise me.” I patiently waited for my eyes to adjust to distance viewing and hoped I would notice any movement in my peripheral vision. And then one appeared as if floating on the wings of an Angel. “I see one…no, I see both of them!” I yelled excitedly pointing to their broad unfolded wings. Circling together in the same updraft, these two hawks caught the edge of a thermal rising from far below.
They drifted closer, and then they were gone. Already overcome with emotion, tears streaming from her face, Althea raised her cup smiling broadly. My heart throbbed in my throat as I struggled for air. Wiping the tears from my own face, I raised my cup to hers and between gasps and sniffles I said, “I love you.”
Clink.
In a single moment, our vision of curing had become complete. The old sketch of us on the bench was about as accurate as it could be. Our hair was about the length shown and our clothes about the way it depicted too. But the best part was toasting to her curing with our coffee cups in hand.
The Sketch
Chapter 33 — February 4, 2010 — Day 715
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Epilogue
The lasting riches in life are amassed from seemingly insignificant moments.
Amidst the boredom of mundane daily routines they hide,
waiting patiently like a buried treasure to be found.
Philip Rastocny, May 20, 2010
Today was just another uneventful day, like so many that have already come and gone. With the days blurring together, curing is coming slowly but consistently. Grateful for her progress, we are indeed in this adventure for the long run.
Approaching the two year anniversary of her surgery, Althea is now by her own best estimate nearing ninety five percent of a complete recovery. No longer is she slow to answer, confused about simple issues, or introversive. She gladly embraces the challenges of the day and walks commandingly through the halls. While not completely cured, she is perfect.
Getting up in the morning and seeing her sparkling eyes look back into mine is quite a gift. With so many others never recovering a normal life from their own acute subdural hematomas, I feel privileged to see her do so well. I read in one study that fewer than eighty percent of those with such an injury make it through surgery, and of these survivors the vast majority of them never return to a completely normal life. She beat the odds. She is my miracle woman.
Until a crisis hits you, until something you have taken for granted is plucked away, you may take such things for granted. If you believe there will always be time tomorrow to do that one special thing together, I encourage you to do it today; tomorrow may never come.
Time is more precious than often perceived. Quality time—time where you slow down and feel every instant—is even rarer. Life should be filled with such quality moments since these are only the things that truly matter. It is our choice to arrange our priorities and too often quality time is given a second, third, or even worse ranking.
When you become angry, remember you may not get a chance to apologize later. When you let that call go to voice mail, you may never connect with that person again. Rearranging priorities and keeping what is truly important at the forefront of every moment will give you the fullest, richest, happiest life you can imagine. While fond memories can be had on adventures, it is not the destination that makes the memory. The moments on the adventure where you stop and are a human being—not a human doing—are what last.
Even on uneventful days, keeping that spark of love alive is important since without fanning its flame, it can flicker and fail. Love needs fuel like anything to survive. Love must be nurtured like a baby and coddled to grow and thrive. Love given needs love in return, and responds best from unconditional love. For without limits, our spirits soar like hawks on the wind and such love returns in greater measures when it is freely given.