Althea: A Story of Love Page 3

  Pulling into our driveway, I discovered Althea’s car in the exact same place I recalled it being that morning; it looked as if she had not left home. I unlocked the front door, opened it, and called to her but there was no response. Walking through the lanai and into the kitchen I heard a deep, rhythmic snoring coming from the living room. Thinking she had finally gotten to sleep from her tooth problems, I made my way over to the couch. She was still sleeping in the same place I left her that morning. Her right arm twitched slightly as if she were having a dream so I stealthily backed away allowing her to sleep.

  Not wanting to disturb Althea, I quietly changed clothes and went outside for a bicycle ride through the neighborhood, chatting with friends along the way. About an hour later, I came home and heard those familiar snoring sounds and chuckled slightly to myself. She sounded just like her father did when he fell asleep in front of the television. This was a deep, restful but loud snore with a slight gasping at the end of each breath.

  I caught up on emails and silently began preparing dinner, being careful not to clank the pots and pans. I was certain the aroma of garlic and butter would get her attention. When it did not, I ate alone at the breakfast bar. Poor thing. She must be completely exhausted. I thought to myself.

  Tonight was a total lunar eclipse. The east edge of the moon had already entered the earth’s shadow and was blotted out of sight. Clouds swept across its face but they were clearing and this bright, unobstructed object appeared in the sky. I was quite excited and thought of the eclipse that Althea and I had last seen in Colorado so long ago. I went inside to wake Althea and let her share in this experience. I once again heard her rhythmic snoring, so I again decided to let her rest and grabbed my camera instead.

  I hand held the camera at first thinking I could hold it still enough to make a good exposure but of course I needed the tripod. I went back inside and grabbed the tripod next to the door. Positioning it in the driveway in front of my car, I started taking pictures. My neighbor was outside talking on her cell phone to her family in Michigan who were simultaneously watching it in clear skies at this same time. It was fun sharing with people hundreds of miles away this same astronomical event.

  I snapped off a few final shots just as the clouds began to roll in. Taking down the camera, I went into the lanai, sat down at the computer, and uploaded the pictures. I screened the images, tossed out those that were blurry, and then emailed the best to myself at work to share with my friends there.

  I got ready for bed thinking I’d let Althea sleep. As my head hit the pillow, something told me to gather Althea into bed with me. Making my way through the dimly lit kitchen, I groped my way over to the couch. Still snoring but now with her head off of the side, I knelt down next to her and tried to wake her.

  “Althea,” I said lightly. “It’s time to go to bed honey. Wake up.”

  There was no response, just more snoring. I repositioned her head onto the pillow. Undaunted by my actions, her snoring continued. I touched her face. It felt strange, not the usual texture I was accustomed to. I spoke louder thinking she just didn’t hear me. “Althea,” I said gruffly. “Wake up.” There was no change. I was starting to lose control as my mind could not accept what I now saw before me.

  I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a washcloth. Wetting it with water I ran back to her and placed it on her forehead hoping to revive her but her snoring pattern was unaltered. Now I was very worried. Trembling, I grabbed her eyelid and lifted it to see her pupils were unmoving and fixed in size. I grabbed a small flashlight and traced it across her pupil. No change.

  I began to panic. My heart was racing and I started to cry. I knew I had to stay calm. I grabbed her feet and pulled her flat on the couch to open her airway. Cradling her head in my hands, I said firmly, “Althea, you need to give me a sign or I will have to call for an ambulance and get help.”

  Althea and I discussed such issues in advance and agreed as to how each of us would want the other to react. She had many non-quality experiences with physicians and conventional western medical practices and she told me she preferred not to ever go into a hospital unless it was absolutely necessary. While my mind wanted me to do otherwise, honoring her wishes in this way was the best thing I could do for her at this time. Her motionless response gave me the answer I needed.

  For Althea not to respond meant to me she somehow knew she was in serious trouble and she wanted me to call for help. Once dialing 9-1-1, an ambulance appeared on the scene in what seemed like only a few minutes.

  Thinking it was a drug overdose, the paramedics were at first highly suspicious of her behavior. I gave them the hydrocodone bottle the dentist had prescribed last week with fourteen of the sixteen pills still inside. Convinced this was not an overdose, they started to think of a stroke. Putting a tube into her throat stabilized her breathing and they whisked her off to the Brooksville Hospital emergency room. I followed closely behind in my car.

  At the hospital, Althea was already wheeled into a treatment room before I arrived. A nurse at the front desk handed me a clip board keeping me busy filling out forms, medical history, and insurance information while they worked on her somewhere out of sight. After what felt like hours, a nurse finally emerged.

  “We did a CT and X-ray on Althea and it showed a ruptured artery in her brain along the left side. She has a subdural hematoma,” the nurse explained in a matter-of-fact manner. “This is a type of stroke that builds pressure inside of her head squeezing against her brain. To relieve this pressure, she needs a neurosurgeon but there are none in Brooksville. We will find a surgeon in Tampa as soon as we can, and then move her down there. We are making calls now and I will get back with you as soon as one can be located for the operation.”

  Hearing this report scared me terribly and I felt paralyzed in fear. I now realized how extremely serious her condition was. The sooner the operation could be performed, the less damage her brain would incur. This could still be fatal. I thought to myself. I went numb.

  “Does your wife have a Living Will?” the nurse continued.

  “What?” I responded completely startled by her voice. My mind was off somewhere else trying to make sense of everything. “Oh, yes, she does. In it, she expressly states that she does not want any unnecessary measures taken to prolong her life.”

  “We need to see a copy of that. Do you know where it is?”

  It seemed perfectly logical at the time to lean over and ask where her Living Will was. Of course I would ask her. Of course I would consult her on her sister’s visit. Of course—she would do no less for me if the tables were turned. How could I do any different for her?

  Out of sheer habit, I leaned down and asked her without even thinking of whom I was talking to, “Do you know where your Living Will is?” In an instant, she shrugged her shoulders and ever so lightly shook her head in that usual reply indicating that she did not know.

  Wow! I thought to myself. She is completely conscious and aware but she just cannot speak. She’ll be fine!

  I was thrilled knowing she was “in there” and dealing with her dilemma in the best way she could. Patience is something Althea tried to teach me many times and these lessons were good practice for the journey on which she was about to take me. I sighed in relief half believing what had just happened and half still so full of fear I forgot about her response after only a few minutes.

  Stress does strange things to you and makes your mind believe it is thinking rationally when in fact it is not. Stress also brings out the gentle warrior in you that often instinctively knows what to do, even when something is unfamiliar. It’s like being in a dream where things appear quite surreal but you have a certainty deep down inside that overcomes your fears and keeps you going. Whispers of what to do or thoughts of solutions—inspirations—can just pop into your head at such moments that are truly amazing. I have found that staying open to these inspiring thoughts and appropriately acting upon them always yields positive results. Some people call this “tru
sting your gut” and others “channeling,” but I call it miraculous.

  I wanted to believe she was fine although her body was not. I had witnessed her spirit—the voice behind the voice— speaking to me, I was astounded at her reply, and I was completely reassured. I felt like she was already on the mend and just needed time. She was in the right place now and there was little else I could do, so I sat down in a chair, threw my head back, and tried to relax. I thought of what Althea had told me about living a quality life. I knew she did not want to live in a wheelchair or be bedridden unable to move or express herself. I knew she feared a situation that would cause her to live but be unable to paint, read, write, and enjoy life on her terms.

  Getting up and leaning over to her again I tenderly held her hand in mine and whispered into her ear saying, “Althea, I know you don’t want to live life being constrained by physical limitations and don’t want extraordinary measures taken to sustain your life, so listen to me now. If you believe you cannot come out of this challenge as you want and so as a result you want to leave, you should do it soon. If you choose this, the best place might be on the ambulance trip to the next hospital.”

  I can’t believe I said that! I thought to myself. I took a deep breath and held on to her hand feeling everywhere it touched mine. I thought this may be one of the last times I did this and I did not want to forget what it felt like.

  When you love someone as deeply as Althea and I love each other, letting go is infinitely harder than hanging on. I truly did not want her to leave but I had to give her the choice; after all it was not mine to make. She needed to know I would understand if it were not possible to heal completely or if something went wrong that I would give her permission to die. Otherwise, she would hang on for me and suffer through whatever was necessary to try to regain full consciousness. I didn’t want to make her feel she was obligated to do this, so I tried to tell her in the best way I could without giving her the impression I did not want her to live.

  This was hard. This was necessary. This made my stomach feel like it was tied up in knots and I felt scared. I reflected on the possible outcomes I thought of earlier. Life without Althea was inconceivable. Life with an invalid was not what she wanted. But life with her in whatever form was all I knew. I trembled, let go of her hand, pulled back from the gurney, and set my mind to task. I thought to myself, Think of something to distract me from this pain.

  I called Althea’s father to tell him what had just happened. It was about one A.M. in Tennessee and I knew I would wake them with that feeling of impending doom. As the phone rings rolled on one after another, I found myself thinking this was a conversation I had hoped I would never have to make. I’m not sure how I got the strength to say these words to break this news but somehow they came out.

  “Hello?” a familiar, strong male voice came on the other end. Shan was a giant of a man built stocky with a short neck. I remember the first day I saw him. He looked like a defensive football player with his massive arms and legs. If it weren’t for his disarming smile, I probably would have trembled more. But with Althea clinging to me and kissing me, I shook his extended hand. It was a strong, firm grip but not to the intense level it could have been given his size. I was impressed by his stature then and I was still impressed by the character behind it today.

  “Hi Dad, it’s Phil.” I stood erect and looked down slightly, inhaling deeply so that the air itself would give me the strength to say what I had to say.

  “Hi Phil. What’s going on?” he said in a calm and a bit inquisitive reply. Shan is a man of few words but great wisdom. All you had to do was pay attention and he would tell you how he found success and happiness in every word he said.

  The next words were hard for me to formulate. How do I easily tell him his daughter just had a subdural hematoma? I said quietly to myself. So I thought about how he would say these words to me if the tables were reversed. It’s funny how your mind can think really fast at times and at others slow things down to a crawl. This time, things were slowed down and I was able to say, “Dad, Althea has had a stroke.”

  My heart sunk but at the same time I felt better sharing my burden. For the first time I verbalized what Althea’s condition was and I felt scared. When you say something aloud, it gives it more power than if you just think it and like a hammer hitting a nail the impact of verbalizing Althea’s condition slammed down hard into my heart. I felt like part of me had just been torn to pieces. I felt a surge of adrenaline in my veins that made my muscles tense up. But immediately after, I felt reassured from Shan’s voice I was no longer in this alone.

  We talked for a while and her step mother Peggy also got on the phone. I asked them to call the rest of the family and let them know what had happened; they agreed. I explained I would call her sister Shannon since these two were so close. As we hung up and I wandered through the halls, I knew that Shannon would intensely react to this news. Although I dreaded having to break her heart, it was something I had to do.

  Shannon was a great sister to Althea and they were best friends. Living northwest of Washington DC, Shannon called Althea every day without fail. The two loved to chat about politics, current events, and family matters. Wishes of love and longings for hugs were typically scattered throughout their conversations. While watching the same TV program, they called each other on the phone to enjoy the program together. Although separated by this physical distance, sharing a common experience brought them the closeness they needed.

  Not thinking quite clearly, I took a short break before I called Shannon. My mind went numb and thoughts of what if flowed like water tumbling down a long waterfall. My heart ached. It was difficult to breathe like when a cold first comes on and your chest begins to ache. It’s just those mind monkeys. Pay no attention to the senseless chatter. I closed my eyes to regain my composure and exhaling heavily, I returned to Althea’s treatment room.

  She was still snoring and still calm. It was almost as if she settled in, accepted her situation, and was waiting patiently for those necessary things yet to be done. As a Registered Nurse herself, Althea knew what steps and in what order such things needed to be performed. There was an uncanny peace about her that calmed me down despite her continuous snoring. While the nurses were trying to make arrangements for emergency neurosurgery in Tampa, I stepped outside and dialed her sister’s number.

  “Hello Shannon?” I said.

  “What’s wrong?” she replied without hesitation in a startled voice. Shannon was a straight shooter and knew when to cut through the small talk. I could feel her heart break with the words she said, and even more so with those she didn’t say.

  “I’ll see what flight I can get and try to be there tomorrow afternoon,” she ended abruptly and hung up.

  While I knew Shannon was thinking of me and how she could best help and support me, Shannon had some pressing challenges of her own. Although her intentions were honorable, I thought she may have spoken a little too hastily. Recovering from her own recent stroke, Shannon’s condition was not really conducive to support me in stressful situations such as this. But Shannon’s heart is huge and her love for her sister even bigger, so I said nothing.

  I called a few more family members and then went back inside to wait. Hours passed and they were still unable to locate a surgeon to perform this life saving procedure. My mind was murky and time disappeared; minutes passed in an instant and the hours just flew by. Finally, miracle of miracles, one doctor agreed and a helicopter was on the way from Tampa to shuttle her to the awaiting operating room.

  As I was explaining to Althea what was about to happen, her sister called back and said she would be in Tampa at four o’clock that afternoon. Althea overhearing this conversation suddenly started flailing her right arm violently as if in protest to what she has just overheard. As Shannon was talking to me, I interrupted her and said, “Shannon, hold on a minute.”

  I took a moment to reflect on what had just happened. I remembered Althea first jerking this a
rm as I came in that evening to check on her and something clicked inside of me. I leaned over and asked Althea, “Do you not want Shannon to come down here?” As soon as I asked this, Althea’s arm stopped flailing and I took this to mean “Yes.” Althea was truly communicating with me. She tried to get my attention earlier that evening to let me know she wasn’t asleep but in trouble. Now she was trying to tell me she didn’t want her sister visiting.

  “Althea is reacting to this news and I believe she does not want you to come down.” Shannon was crushed and slammed down the phone hanging up abruptly. She was obviously a little upset.

  Even in her worst situation, Althea found a way to help me to help her. All I had to do was to pay attention and be aware. She would figure out a way to let me know what she needed. She would work it out.

  Married to her for thirty seven years, I was intimately familiar with every one of her mannerisms, every single quirk, every eye twitch, every reaction, everything. So interpreting what she was trying to tell me was easier than I had thought it would be. This is what I had to focus on now—understanding what she was trying to say.

  When life deals you unfamiliar situations and you rise to the occasion with wisdom beyond your wildest imagination, I view this as the touch of the Creator’s hand directly influencing your life. I see this as nothing less than miraculous. I gave thanks knowing this was one of those special moments I would never forget like my first kiss, my high school graduation, my enlisting into the Air Force, and of course my marriage to Althea. This moment of non-verbal communication was such a moment where the Creator and I briefly exchanged glances and with this glance caused me to look inward where all answers lie.