Althea: A Story of Love Read online

  Finishing up her massage, I focused mainly on her left hand and arm since it was six days since she last moved them. Muscle atrophy, the weakening of a muscle, begins after just a few days of non-use and I wanted to keep them as limber as possible to make her recovery easier. She awoke when I finished and I read to her again for a while.

  A physician came into the room with an assistant nurse and we talked about the tracheotomy procedure again. “Can we wait one more day and see if she will start coughing on her own?” I asked making sure he felt there was no danger in our waiting.

  “It would be better to start this now but there should be no harm in waiting one more day. However, I wouldn’t wait any longer than that,” he replied.

  “If there is a chance she could do this without having a scar on her neck, I know she would far prefer that. But I do not want to wait too long and endanger her life.”

  “I understand,” said the doctor. “Let’s agree to this. If she is not coughing by tonight, let’s do it tomorrow—but let’s schedule the procedure now and cancel it if she doesn’t need it.”

  We agreed and the team trailed off to schedule tomorrow’s procedure. Although Althea’s eyes were closed during this bedside discussion, she seemed to be fine with what was said. Paying close attention to her—especially her right arm—I wanted to know if she decided to change her mind; she didn’t.

  Althea slept most of the day without coughing at all and when she squeezed my thumb she did so briefly. Being concerned about her breathing ability, I am convinced her tracheotomy is inevitable.

  I’m not sure how alert she is today. When she awakes, she routinely asks for more of the homeopathic remedy by moving her tongue to the tip of her teeth. Reassuring her with positive affirmations, I oblige her with a dosage and then stroke her hair and hold her chin in my hand. I whispered to her, “As you welcome this into your body, feel its healing powers traveling to your head. Enjoy its warm, stimulating, healing process as it flows deeply through your body. Relax into its curing powers, find yourself lifted thinking clearer and feeling energized, and know that total curing is happening right now.”

  I continued our ritual of reading, massaging, and exercising during which time I noticed her face was getting puffy. I stroked her cheeks pushing the edema to the back of her neck. While massaging this out, I found a huge stress knot in front of her left ear running down the side of her neck. It also responded to massage and she is now resting quietly.

  It is so cute when she awakes and asks for the homeopathic remedy. She yawns and does her best to stretch with her limited range of motion. Her eyes peer open and meet mine. Magical lightning bolts of love lighten my heart and I grin back at her expansively spreading smile. Still unable to talk, she moves her tongue to the tip of her teeth, tapping it up and down. Each time she does this I have to laugh and my own grin grows. How can someone possibly refuse any request when made in such a precious way?

  Like a four-year old child in a candy store tugging on your pant leg, those innocent eyes peer up at yours and you just cannot refuse. No words need be exchanged and your heart just melts anyway dripping down inside of you. It’s this kind of magic that I value. Simple moments like these make life worth living. This is where I find my treasures.

  At one thirty P.M., I leaned over to Althea, woke her up, and announced that I was going to lunch. “Althea, wake up honey,” I said tenderly. “I’m going to lunch now and I’m going to call the family and let them know about your condition.”

  She squeezed my thumb tightly and at first I thought she was going to hang on again as before. But this time she instantly released it and went back to sleep. I let go of her hand and lingered there at the foot of her bed just watching her. Her breathing was regular but she seemed so tired compared to yesterday. I turned for the door and passed the nursing station telling them I would be gone for a while at lunch.

  Wandering into the courtyard, I walked past the cafeteria and settled into a chair. I closed my eyes for a while and just tried to think of nothing. There was a lot of pressure building inside of me and I could feel it gnawing away at my guts. All of my family’s emotional support was miles away in Tennessee and I felt like a one-man football team playing the Super Bowl champions. Just then, my phone rang. Caller ID on my phone showed me that it was Chris, our nephew.

  “Hi Chris,” I said sounding a little beat down.

  “Whazzup!” he said in that longer droll hanging on the letter “u.”

  “Althea is resting today and she appears to need a lot of sleep.”

  “Sleep is good…” he said. “How are you holding up, buddy?” he said sensing the tone of my voice.

  “I have my moments when I feel exhausted but I am doing pretty well considering.”

  “You’re doing great! Make sure that you take some time for yourself. If you’re spent, Althea will feel spent too.”

  No wiser words were ever spoken. I truly heard what Chris was saying and until that moment I thought only of her. I used to exercise regularly, riding my bike or just puttering with the car. I kept busy and active and now—over the past week—I did nothing in the way of such things. I needed to take some time for myself, but I was feeling guilty about doing it right now. Although a critical juncture, I decided to delay taking time for myself for a few more days.

  “You’re right, Chris. I need to take some time and have fun. Althea is struggling right now with phlegm in her lungs and I want to stay until this is resolved. But I promise you I will go for a bike ride as soon as this challenge passes.”

  Chris is a good kid, having wisdom and common sense well beyond his modest twenty six years. Chris is a really good looking young man with chiseled features and an extreme build. Weight lifting gave him a physique and strength he capitalized on in his career. Being a finish carpenter, he enjoyed trim work and put up some crown molding in our bathroom that changed it from a place to brush your teeth to a first-class spa where you looked forward taking a long bath. Lifting heavy boards and juggling air-driven power tools were all right up his alley and he loved doing things like this for us. He thought the world of Althea and would do anything he could for her—anything. All she had to do was ask and he would do it without question.

  I finished my chef salad and called a few other folks. Heading back up to Althea’s room, I felt rejuvenated and ready to read. Althea had another book, one of many, and wanted me to focus the bookmarked chapters. This one was about planning, so I picked it up and settled into the chair to read it aloud.

  The book talked about taking small steps in making plans. It explained how we can get overwhelmed when a goal is huge and far away. It recommended focusing on what you can do today—what tiny thing is possible—that can move you forward toward the goal.

  This was a timely bit of wisdom. Althea’s complete recovery was in fact a long way off, one she could not even imagine. But she could imagine breathing freely and coughing up the phlegm in her lungs. So I stopped reading and put my thumb into her hand.

  “Althea, can we make a plan? As we look at the picture I drew of us sitting on the bench, can we imagine small healing steps to get us there?”

  She squeezed my thumb once.

  “Good. So let’s visualize you coughing and see the phlegm wanting to leave your body. Let’s see it zipping out your throat and into a tissue one deliberate cough after another.”

  She squeezed my thumb excitedly several times and I knew she was going to try. But nothing happened. She just could not cough. She just wasn’t strong enough yet.

  After I saw her struggle for a while, I said to her in a calm relaxing voice, “That’s OK honey, you’ll do better next time. Don’t worry about it. Just keep seeing that phlegm in the tissue and it will get there one day.”

  I read some other articles to her about metaphysical connections with the Creator and how these are disguised as everyday happenings. She fell sound asleep after only a few words but I continued reading to her completely undaunted.

 
With my thumb in her hand the whole time, I read everything to her I brought along. There were only a few slight rustlings from her arms and legs but she never once let go of my thumb. Her toes twitched earlier but they too stopped.

  I prayed several times aloud. In between articles and after exercises, I took extra time to gently massage the edema from her face. That knot in her neck is still there and I suppose she is still stressed out at some level about her inability to cough. She asked for the homeopathic remedy three times in one hour with our little sign of the tip of her tongue on the front teeth. I gave it to her a total of four times today, twice in one hour.

  Reading five chapters from another book, they all focused on the same thing in different ways. Like a collegiate rowing team, it stressed the urgency to get everyone’s oars rowing in the same direction and at the same time. I see how this applies to Althea’s situation and I will work tomorrow with the rest of the medical team to get that tracheotomy done.

  At the end of the day, I read her a relaxing meditation after which she slumped into a deep sleep. I left the hospital at the usual time but drove home at the speed limit allowing everyone to pass by. Going slower allows me to think and there was a lot I needed to reflect on. With driving on autopilot, I relaxed in the seat I slept in just twelve hours ago, and let today’s events flash into my mind.

  Althea really tried to get control of her body today. She fought hard to be present and awake, but her battle was just overcome by her brain’s swelling.

  I thought to myself, I know she can hear everything I’m saying and her state of mind believes whatever words come out of my mouth. It may take only a few accidental words, a joking remark, or a casual comment to undo the positive recovery she has achieved to this point.

  Her determination and ability to hear, remember, and understand what I say is remarkable. To keep her spirits up, I must be aware of my words and turn off my cell phone while in her room. This will assure her a peaceful and positive environment in which to focus on her recovery.

  Delaying her tracheotomy may have been a bad idea. I continued feeling guilty for putting her through this. Fortunately, the tracheotomy is scheduled for five thirty tomorrow afternoon. Tomorrow, I will pay extra attention to her oxygen levels and her respiratory distress. After this procedure, I am certain she will return to the fast track in her healing and curing.

  For me, moving forward finds solutions, while bargaining with the Creator or dwelling on the past keeps me in a rut. When I choose to let go of what was, it allows me to embrace what could be. Tonight I turned over my decision of delaying Althea’s tracheotomy to the Creator. Tomorrow, I will focus on the small steps of what I can do.

  Chapter 9 — February 27, 2008 — Day 7

  * * *

  Althea has had allergies as long as she can remember. Growing up in Tennessee was an exceptional challenge for her since the relentless pollens raised her sensitivity but lowered her body’s natural defenses. Some people’s allergies inconvenience them with occasional sneezing, snorting, and coughing. Althea’s nonstop advanced reactions included not only all of these, but also continuously clearing her throat and wiping her runny nose. Her youth was indeed miserable.

  Sleeping itself is a challenge since staying in a prone position prevents her from properly attending to her drainage. She often awakens at night struggling to regain her breath and soon succumbed to sleep apnea. Asthma inhalers and bronchial dilators are always placed within easy reach. In case of an extreme emergency, her personal syringe full of epinephrine is never far away.

  Despite her chronic respiratory condition, Althea rarely complained. She just didn’t let any of her inherent health struggles interfere with her active life. Once a year, in the spring when pollens were particularly plentiful, she found a novel way to deal with it. She would wrap a soft cotton hand towel under her nose, drape it around the tops of her ears, and then tie it behind her head. This allowed the drainage to freely drip down into the towel without having to constantly blow her nose making it sore and red. Although comical in her appearance, Althea was a practical person and it guaranteed me of a good laugh while watching her work in the garden or make dinner. When going out in public, she was tempted to take her towel along but tolerated allergy medications instead. Fortunately, her towel is no longer needed.

  Althea’s health issues extend to her extreme sensitivity to most commonly prescribed medications. Somehow related, her body’s natural defense system aggressively reacts with an allergic response to almost all of such remedies. Antibiotics are a common source of medical misunderstandings. When administered by an assuming physician, her reaction routinely proves to be life threatening by choking off her airway and literally endangering her life. Assuming personal responsibility for her safety, Althea learned quickly to warn physicians of her hypersensitive reactions and maintains a list of drugs she can and cannot use. When administering a drug not on her list, proper preparations with bronchial dilators stand by just in case of an unwelcomed surprise.

  With such sensitivities, her environmental awareness is keen. She is a proponent for growing organic food, materials used in constructing homes, methods of treating home and garden pests, and materials used in making clothing. One of her cardinal beliefs is “less is more.”

  She is not afraid of verbalizing her beliefs since when not doing so could be life threatening. Right at the top of her list for respiratory distress are most perfumes, ragweed, pine pollen, tobacco smoke, and insect sprays. Even common fabrics used in making everyday clothing could cause rashes and scratching once it touched her skin.

  Avoidance and coughing are her two best defenses against such encounters. With each allergic discovery, her written list of sensitivities grew. Our life became a game where we live life like anyone else—oblivious to the potentially harmful issues surrounding you—but are prepared to take action the instant an issue arose. Imagine standing in line at a checkout and someone proudly walking up behind you wearing a heavy dose of their favorite perfume or after shave. Imagine then having to leave that line because you were reacting to this seemingly innocent fragrance. Similar scenarios played out in movie theaters, concert halls, waiting rooms, churches, parties, and even with friends.

  With each new discovery, we were grateful to be aware of it and found ways to manage our behavior. Many times this meant not doing something or going somewhere else, but we were always thankful to uncover any sensitivity before Althea’s reaction to it became serious.

  Since most of our life adventures focused on exploring diverse remote areas, her sensitivities rarely interfered with her enjoyment of the sprawling natural wildernesses. Even during such adventures, preparations and planning in the event of an allergic encounter always stayed in the forefront of our minds. Such vigilance taught us how to enjoy ourselves despite encountering occasional constraints.

  As I pulled into the hospital parking lot with the sun just coming up over the horizon, I felt a resurgence of energy pulsing through my veins making me feel stronger and more certain. Today is an important day, one where one more obstacle would be forever removed from Althea’s ability to breathe. I was happy! Arriving in Althea’s room at the usual nine A.M., she noticed me round the corner of the ICU Nurse’s desk and warmly greeted me. Her head bandage was shiny and new as was the excitement I saw in her eyes.

  Picking up on my enthusiasm, she energetically squeezed my thumb and smiled broadly beaming with both happiness and love in her strikingly beautiful but squinting eyes. It was great to see her in such good spirits and her strength return. Despite her respiratory difficulties, her long sleep payed off and her color returned along with her joy.

  We stared at each other with broad smiles and I professed my undying love to her again and again. In moments of silence, Althea squeezed my thumb for no reason and I interpreted this as her telling me she was happy to see me. She apparently had been awake for a while and was missing both me and my thumb.

  I brought more prayer tie materials with m
e today to add to the growing collection; I wanted to surround her with more prayers and good thoughts. Native American Prayer Ties are like Tibetan prayer wheels or Catholic Rosaries. With all of these, the more you repeat your prayer, the more you notice its subtle changes. Every time you say your prayer, one or two words may swap their position. Sometimes, habitual phrases are substituted with more expressive ones that feel more right. At other times, you may find new words that better describe what you are asking for. As our prayer evolves, its intensity and sincerity grows.

  Native American prayer ties (tobacco ties) are made from regular cut-leaf pipe tobacco. Taking a small pinch in your fingers, you say your prayer aloud and imagine your prayer entering the tobacco. Pre-cut two-inch squares of colored cloth lie in a pile waiting for you to finish the prayer. Placing this pinch of tobacco into a cloth square and folding it around the tobacco makes it appear like a tiny ghost. Kite string secures each prayer into its cloth and a chain of colorful prayers soon appears along the string. Today, I used red cotton cloth and made a chain of twenty three ties, just long enough to hang over the top of the doorway.