I threw my head back and closed my eyes. “Thank you, doctor, for helping her. She is a very, very special person to me.”
“She is a very lucky woman,” he continued. “Normally, few people survive this kind of stroke to even make it to surgery. And then 80-90% of those that make it to the operating room do not survive.”
My eyes bulged and my face grew pale. I had no idea. I knew her condition was critical but even my wildest dreams were not like this. We shook hands exchanging other pleasantries and off he went down the hall consulting with the nurses at a nearby desk.
Stunned, I called the family to share this great news. After I got off the phone, numbness swelled through my brain and memories of Althea’s many previous surgeries flooded my mind. I fantasized about walking through the door to her room and holding her once again close to me. It was like she had to put me through something like this every now and then just to keep me on my toes.
The last time I felt this much stress was during her tubular pregnancy in Denver. In the middle of the night, we rushed to the hospital with her stomach in severe distress. It was so tender to the touch she would not let anyone near it. Too weak to walk by herself from the car, orderlies helped her to the examination room and immediately started filling her with fluids. With help in hand and her color returning, Althea sat up on the gurney and even started joking around with the staff. Once the ER physician arrived I left her for further examination and sat down in the adjoining waiting area. Suddenly a code blue screeched over the intercom. Turning toward the noise, I saw was Althea’s gurney racing towards the elevator with nurses doing CPR on her as bottles clanged and wires flew wildly. This was another lesson Althea gave me in how to turn things over.
I was not as strong then as I am now so that earlier lesson really got under my skin. Looking back, this tubular pregnancy now seemed almost like a practice run. It was like Althea was getting me ready for “the big one.” Recalling all that I had done to support her then, I sorted out what was truly helpful and what wasn’t.
Remembering how she loved flowers, especially yellow roses, I stopped fantasizing and wandered down to the hospital gift shop to see what they had. Yellow roses are hard to find but I had high hopes of finding red ones. Simple daisies would have to do for now. I just wanted to have them there when she woke up so she would have beauty in her life from the start. The yellow ribbon around the slender clear glass vase was as close as I could come to her coveted yellow roses.
Time passed slowly again. I imagined Althea getting out of the recovery room and safely into the Intensive Care Unit. I fantasized walking into her room where she would hear my voice and reach her arms out to hug me. I visualized us together in a long, lasting embrace with her telling me that she loves me; I responded by telling her that I loved her. I clung to this vision the whole time I waited.
Finally at about two P.M., I was permitted into the Intensive Care Unit. Rounding the corner of the long sterile hallway and walking through the massive brown door, I entered a larger room. Her room was directly across from the main desk. Nurses hovered around her busily doing whatever they did for a new patient. She was still heavily sedated.
I clenched my fist and raised it and my eyes to the sky saying, “Yes!” giving thanks to the Creator. I sped swiftly into her room with flowers in hand and light tears in my eyes. With her face pressed against the pillow and turned to the right, a clean white bandage wrapped around her entire head. A prominent bulge around the incision on the left side showed the place where her skull bone was removed and then put back. There would be neither arms extended nor a long embrace this time. My heart saddened since my vision would not come true—at least not now.
Although tubes hung out of her, I raced to her side. She lay there motionless and unresponsive; my heart sank. Pulling myself together, I formulated my first words to her. A part of me instinctively knew the only things she needed to hear from this point forward were calm, positive words.
I set the flowers on her lap, reached over, and held her hand tenderly in mine. Pressing against the rails, I leaned over, kissed her forehead and whispered to her, “Althea, it’s me. I’m here and everything is alright now. You just got out of surgery and you must rest. I will be right here so when you wake up we can talk again.” I squeezed her hand over and over again and stroked her arm. I continued, “There is a lot I have to tell you, but for now just know I love you with all my heart and soon our life will return to normal. All you have to do now is to sleep and let me take care of everything.”
I kissed her gently over and over, moving down her cheek and then to her hand. She was completely limp with tubes running out of her mouth and nose. Her clean green gown against her white head bandage and white sheets looked nicely color coordinated and I knew that if she saw herself she would be pleased. After all, she would want to look well even if she didn’t feel well. I chuckled a little at this thinking I personally wouldn’t give a hoot about how I would look lying there, but that was just me.
“I bought you some flowers,” I continued picking them up and showing them to her as if she could see them. I deliberately interacted with her as if she were fully conscious. “I’ll put them over here on the table so you can smell them.”
Her deep and regular breathing was now devoid of the chronic snoring of her arrival. As the monitoring machines beeped out their signals, they displayed a healthy, strong heartbeat without any signs of irregularities or distress. An I.V. bottle ran into her arm and a catheter tube connected to a bag along side of the bed. Everything appeared to be in order and Althea seemed to be resting comfortably.
I slowly let go of her warm hand and letting it fall limp against the bed. Moving my fingers down hers until our fingertips parted, I picked up the flowers and walked over to the sink. I talked to her the whole time telling her what I was doing just so she could hear my voice and know I was there. I set the flowers on the feeding stand next to her bed, moved the chair next to it, and placed her hand in mine.
Whispering softly to her, I planted these thoughts into her subconscious mind. “Althea, you are fine. You need to relax and just sleep. I’ll be right here until you wake up and then we can talk again. I’m sure you have a lot to tell me. I love you darling with all my heart.”
I kissed the back of her hand and set it against the sheet. I started to sing one of the spiritual songs she so loved and then realized what I needed to do.
I needed to bring into her room everything she valued spiritually so she would feel supported in mind, body, and spirit. Of her many sacred items, I wondered what would be the most important thing for her to have with her right now. Making an inventory in my head of things she would also need—slippers, robe, and stuff like that—I also wanted to read to her. Books. A lot of books. I thought to myself. Reading aloud to her would be good for both of us since this was one of our nightly rituals just before going to sleep. This too would continue those familiar routines, just like she was at home resting in her own bed.
With this inspiration from the Creator, I knew what I had to do and now my life’s purpose was to help Althea heal and cure herself. Everything else was secondary.
I sang several more songs and hung onto her right hand. She lay there peacefully, and I made small talk to her every now and then telling her about this and that, but there was no change in her condition. Hours passed and then out of the blue, she faintly squeezed my hand. She was there!
I started to cry and said to her, “I’m here honey. I feel you squeezing my hand, so I know that you know I am here. Rest now and all will be well.”
Tears ran uncontrollably down my cheeks, and I sobbed a brief sigh. Again I raised my fist above my head and looking through the ceiling and high into the sky I affirmed “Yes!” Sniffling and clearing my throat, I leaned over again never letting go of her hand and kissed her gently on her forehead and cheek. “I love you,” I said and sat back down breaking into another song.
Althea fell fast asleep now and did not awa
ken again. Later that afternoon, Dr. DeWeese came into the room. “How is she doing?” he asked.
“She is resting well. She squeezed my hand a few hours ago but she has been quiet since that time.”
He then did something that highly surprised me. He leaned over her bedside and yelled loudly into her face saying, “Althea, how are you doing?”
Wonder of wonders, Althea responded to him wriggling her arms and legs and even nodding her head just ever so slightly both yes and no to his prompting. I was elated and felt like dancing for joy. Even more hope had returned to my heart and I began to believe she was on the road to a complete recovery.
“I’ll check on her again tomorrow. She appears to be recovering as expected.”
Whew! I returned to Althea’s awaiting right hand and held it again in mine. This would be a great challenge for her now to come back. This would be a journey that would take more strength than anything she had ever done before—and she had already done so much. I fantasized about cooking breakfast for her at home and us sitting in the living room together watching television or listening to music. I could see us smiling and gazing lovingly at each other just as we had done countless times before. As more tears streaked down my face, I knew all would be well.
Wandering down to the cafeteria for dinner, I found something to eat. I took a few moments to call her dad again and tell him about the day. He was also elated to hear that Althea was doing so well and said something to me I didn’t expect. He said, “Phil, she’s lucky to have you there.” I thanked him, and he went on, “I mean she really loves you and trusts you. I could tell this from the first moment she told me about you.”
It was great to hear this from him and my thoughts went immediately to my love for her. My heart swelled feeling this wondrous, intense, unconditional love and I became recharged. Not only was my belly full, so was my spirit.
I went back up to Althea’s room and stayed with her until nine P.M. holding her hand, wiping down her face when she perspired, singing to her, and kissing her every now and then. I talked wildly about anything that came into my mind keeping her unconscious engaged with me. I didn’t care that she didn’t respond, I just wanted her to keep hearing my voice and if by some chance she did wake up, she would know I was there. Finally, I told her I was leaving for the day and I said my goodbyes.
She must have been asleep because she didn’t respond at all. I left for home totally exhausted taking the hour-long drive with sadness, hope, and love all jumbled together in my heart. I don’t remember driving home but it stopped raining and the tires made that swooshing sound in the few remaining puddles. It was like I was on autopilot now just taking the same route I had traveled hundreds of times before, so there wasn’t any thought into driving at all.
Arriving home at about ten thirty P.M., I opened the door to an empty house. I half expected Althea to be there being as tired as I was, and then I recalled more clearly what had gone on that day. After twenty five years of doing these ceremonies, what I did next came without hesitation.
Althea and I became involved in Native American ceremonies and traditions while in Colorado. There is a sacred ceremony called a Pipe Ceremony where one performs a spiritual ritual, says prayers, and offers them to the Creator. Gathering my own ceremonial pipe, I performed this special high ceremony. Crying intensely and praying from my spiritual center, I asked the Creator for Althea’s complete curing and for assistance in whatever way He saw fit. As the smoke from the sacred tobacco mixture drifted through the air, I turned my prayers over to the Creator—it was out of my hands. The answers would come sooner than I thought.
After finishing the ceremony and putting everything away, I dropped my clothes on the floor, collapsed into bed, and after forty eight hours straight of staying awake, I fell instantly asleep. What a day!
Chapter 4 — February 22, 2008 — Day 2
* * *
Althea was a spiritual person every moment of her life, one of the things that initially attracted me to her. Being raised Christian, as was I, she loved to go to church and get involved. But spirituality meant more to her than merely regurgitating words from a book, singing songs in unison, and showing up on Sundays in fine clothes. To Althea, spirituality meant completely embracing and enjoying the love of the Creator in all ways she could. We joined the choir, volunteered as youth group leaders, cleaned the church, and regularly attended social gatherings.
Althea’s questions, however, were not always answered by the clergy in ways that made sense to her. Vague responses like, “That’s the Will of God,” or “That’s not for us to question,” or “God has a larger plan than what we know,” were inadequate to her, especially later in life. She questioned why such limiting answers were given and felt there was much more to the Creator than this.
After I was discharged from the Air Force, Althea still had about a year and a half left to her own hitch. When she was transferred to Tinker Air Force base on the east side of Oklahoma City, I continued my education at the Oklahoma State campus on Portland Avenue way across town. Wanting to be a Nurse after leaving the military, Althea cross-trained into the medical field. She started working in the VA Hospital wing and we rented a home just down the road from the main gate in Midwest City. She was a natural caregiver and found this field forever rewarding.
Althea worked days and I went to school. We found a church on the Northwest Expressway that we liked and started going there regularly. With our second anniversary coming up, we wanted to recommit our vows to each other.
We quickly acquired new friends and acquaintances at church, school, and from her workplace. One of her close friends, Andy, was a tall, thin male nurse whose jovial and laid-back personality inspired everyone he met not to take things so serious. His girl friend, Lana, was a gentle soul who was not this denomination but could play the organ with a spirit that was mesmerizing.
Althea got the idea that Lana should play at our remarriage ceremony and so we asked Lana to do this. Lana was thrilled when Althea asked her and immediately agreed to do so. The following Sunday, Lana came to church with us, and after the service we talked to our Pastor about this arrangement. Much to our surprise and dismay, the Pastor said no because Lana was not the same denomination. This deeply hurt both Althea and Lana but was a turning point for Althea. She just couldn’t accept that being a different religion had anything to do with playing an organ during a wedding.
At this time, I was still brainwashed by my own personal historic beliefs and tried to defend my religion of origin. As soon as I said the words, “Try to understand…” to Lana and Althea, I knew the words coming from my mouth were wrong. But I said them anyway, and I stayed with my opinion even though my heart realized otherwise. The form of Christianity practiced at this church was the most conservative of all of this denomination. I still don’t know why I didn’t support Lana; I guess the fear of religious repercussion was stronger than standing up for what I truly felt was right. I was young, and although Althea was almost three years younger, she was far more mature in matters like this.
We chose another church, also Christian but with more liberal beliefs. The organist there was remarkably talented and Althea loved listening to her play. We became as involved in this church as we had in the other, and before long similar issues started to surface. As a result, Althea’s growing spirituality began to diverge even more so from organized religion.
Althea was discharged from the Air Force in the spring of 1973 and I graduated about the same time. We moved to Denver where Gary, the best man at our wedding, lived. Staying in our 1968 Dodge van in Gary’s alley driveway, I searched for a job during the day while renewing our friendship with Gary at night.
After finding a job, we moved to the far southwest end of Denver near a sleepy foothills town called Morrison. We lived at the foot of the Rocky Mountains with a grand southern view while Althea attended nursing school. Althea graduated and started working in the Psychiatric Nursing field helping addicts and alcoholics
recover. Abandoning the church of our youth, Althea found a television evangelist who gave her spiritual comfort; we sought out a church aligned with that teaching.
She loved Psych Nursing and felt like she had finally found her calling. Although mentally, emotionally, and physically demanding, her rewards lay in the simple statements of gratitude countless patients gave her upon leaving treatment. Time and time again, they would make a point to come up and thank her for helping them kick their personal habit. Her stories of their success told from loving eyes demonstrated to me her unconditional love for them and her thankfulness to the Creator for giving her this rewarding life task. Althea was truly happy.
Shortly thereafter, we moved into the mountains and found the hour-long drive to this church too hard to make and we looked for a church near our mountain home. Conifer was a tiny community in 1980 and our choices for a church were limited. We joined a very small Christian church about twenty minutes from home. But on Christmas Eve, the final cord with organized religion was cut. The Pastor spoke of Christmas but made the birth of Christ into a negative experience. He preached about how psychology was destructive to people’s minds and since Althea’s profession was under attack, she was personally offended. The Pastor’s sermon continued with degrading remarks about women and Althea had enough of his grandstanding. She immediately stopped attending not only this church but all churches and focused instead on finishing her Bachelor’s degree in Holistic Health and Wellness.
Althea: A Story of Love Page 5
