While attending Metropolitan State University in inner city Denver, Althea signed up on a whim for a class in Limit Testing. In this class, a group of students went to Moab, Utah, for eight days to perform a ritual based on a Native American ceremony called the Vision Quest. Here, she would stay in the wilderness for three days without food staying in the same spot and meditating on her personal spiritual beliefs. Excited by its potentially rewarding spiritual results, Althea jumped at the opportunity and into this ceremony with both feet.
Althea found this single ceremony spoke more truth about her personal spiritual journey than any other form of organized religion. She was profoundly moved by her experience and soon we both started down this same path. We became involved in the Denver Native American Community helping the seniors. Attending weekly Sweat Lodges and performing annual Vision Quests, Althea’s spiritual journey led her to participating in traditional Sun Dances. Althea had finally found what she was searching for—a way to bring her personal spirituality in alignment with an organized belief system. She whole heartedly embraced this new-found spirituality.
Under the direction of her first teacher, Althea made her Native American ceremonial pipe by hand. Our teachers—Yaqui, Lakota, Cherokee, Ojibwa, and others—all helped us to understand what it meant to walk toward the Creator on what Native Americans call the Red Road. Personally blessed by several Native American chiefs, Althea’s pipe was the most sacred spiritual symbol she carried in life, one we used in both spiritual and daily facets.
I followed Althea’s lead into this atypical form of spiritual expression and our love grew along with our spiritual fulfillment. Before long, I had a pipe of my own, and our two pipes shared many ceremonies together. It was this same pipe that I smoked in gratitude to the Creator last night.
Without prompting I awoke at about six thirty A.M., cleaned up the kitchen, and made my way back to the hospital. Althea was still sound asleep when I arrived and I was glad she was. Watching her rest, I thought to myself. This is exactly what she needs at this time—lots of rest.
To return as much as possible to our normal routine, I deliberately greeted Althea in our typical morning greeting, “Good morning Althea. How are you doing today?”
For now, there was no response as I kissed her on her cheek. Moving the chair around her bed and next to her right arm, I reached in through the retaining rails.
As I rubbed her arms, I told her of my trip home and how comfortable the bed was. I reminded her of the sights and sounds of our home and told her that soon she would be home again. I described the day to her and kept her updated as to the events that impacted our lives. Things like politics, sensationalism, and the like I never discussed deciding instead to focus on positive news and things that would make her happy. I talked about our garden and flowers, the birds in our yard, and how the grass smelled when the neighbor mowed it. I chose words of living things so she could imagine them growing and doing life. Finding things to say proved to be a challenge, so I occasionally reverted to songs and prayers.
There was no change in her appearance but her clothes were getting more and more wrinkled from increased perspiration. I interpreted her elevated body temperature as a sign of healing. Her skin looked a little pinker and less pale and her breathing continued in its regular, systematic cadence. Although unconscious, she was healing and I wanted to notice every improvement—no matter how small. I wanted to be immersed in all of her progress.
Althea hated feeling sticky, so I whispered, “Althea, how would you like for me to clean your skin?” Not even expecting a response, I said this just for something to say. She didn’t shake her right arm in a sign of disproval, so I figured she wouldn’t mind.
I found a wash cloth and rinsed it out in the sink. Warming it to just the right temperature, I put down the bed rails, proceeded to lift her arms and then her legs one by one, and cleaned her up as best I could. She seemed to enjoy that—or at least I wasn’t hurting her—and I continued to do this for all of the places I could reach. I dabbed her face carefully around the tape holding the bandages in place. I reached into the folds of her skin and lightly pulled the cloth through them. I enveloped her fingers and toes giving them a small tug as the cloth found its way to the tip of the nails.
It felt good for me to do this, to give back. Touch was always a big part of our relationship whether Althea was hanging on me or I was hanging on her. We often gave each other tender rubs and caresses even while just passing each other in the hall accompanied by an impromptu grunt or gleeful squeal. I wanted to bring this familiar part of her life back and tried to think of more ways to do this.
After telling her about driving in the rain and the pipe ceremony I did at home, I closed the door to her room, held her right hand in both of mine, and recited a prayer aloud just as we had done so many times together. I repeated every nuance, repeated items in the same order, asked for the same things she frequently prayed for, and closed with our familiar prayer of gratitude. When we finished, she was even more relaxed than before. I smiled at her, raised the rails against her bed, and told her that I was going outside to make some calls.
I called her dad and sister again to let them know how she was doing. Her sister still wanted to come out and help me; I graciously declined her offer but thanked her for her kind gesture. Shannon was persistent and so was I. Although disappointed, she reluctantly agreed to stay home. This time, she didn’t hang up on me.
Althea’s brother Hubert, the second oldest in the family, is a financial genius mixed with an enthusiastic hunter. He picked up part of his father Shan’s humor along with his passion for understatement, and wove them both into every conversation we had. His son, Jonathan, followed much in his father’s footsteps and also became a financial wizard. By some unbelievable coincidence, Jonathan had recently moved from Tallahassee to Tampa following his job. Jonathan, a quiet person who kept his personal life private, loved baseball and hockey and took every opportunity he could to attend a professional event.
When I called Jonathan, he was distressed to hear about Althea. Jon was very supportive in this brief but intense conversation. Out of nowhere, he said, “Is there anything you need?”
“What if you join me for dinner?” I replied somewhat surprised but immensely appreciative of his offer.
“There is a sub shop here in the building. Would you like me to bring you a sandwich?” he asked.
“Sure, just make it something healthy.”
Althea drilled into my brain the fact that I am what I eat. With familiar phrases like, “eat some protein to balance out those carbohydrates!” and “Do you really want to put that into your body?” she reminded me that it’s my choice to stay thin and healthy. She’s right. No one forces a Big Mac down my throat or adds those super sized fries to the order. That’s all about me and since Althea loves me, she tries to encourage me in whatever supportive way she can. Now is the time for me to do the same and support her.
Since we are what we eat, we are also what we think, do, and say. During life, we accumulate these eatings, doings, thinkings, and sayings, and this is who we eventually become. Our mind is trained to automatically reinforce or reiterate our accumulated memories thereby making it feel good. So our life results can be condensed into an accumulation of moment-by-moment conscious choices. In supporting Althea, my conscious choice at this time was to allow only positive experiences into her life.
So how can I do this? I thought to myself. How can I create an environment that is as supportive to her healing and curing as humanly possible? What can I do to harmoniously support the medical care she is now receiving?
For me, that was no small task. This meant a complete shift in my life priorities. This meant that every decision had to be a conscious one in order to assure the proper results. I saw myself as a cheerleader in a pep rally unlike any other I had ever attended. The stakes here were much higher and there was absolutely no option of failure.
I asked myself, What can I do to ins
till this image of perfect health not only to Althea but also to those who wish to help her?
A feeling came over me stirring a question in my mind, What does she fondly enjoy that she would willingly want to do again? This was a strange sensation, one much like someone whispering into my ear—but my ears heard nothing; a sensation like thinking—but neither gathering ideas nor recalling previous experiences; a sensation like inspiration—but more like pure love touching my heart. The Creator was talking to me again with these sensations. I understood them clearly, and this time, I listened.
So I thought about this, these feelings from the Creator. What is the one thing Althea looks forward to that would anchor a feeling of complete wellness and happiness inside her?
My mind went blank as it raced to find the answer. I exhaled and closed my eyes about to give up, and then it came to me much like the words of just a few moments ago. I had another vision of our Saturday morning ritual on her favorite garden bench. I visualized her sitting there with me with its green roses woven into the cast iron framework. There were smiles on our faces as our heads lifted skyward, toasting the day to each other with cups of her favorite hot coffee. I then heard the familiar screech of hawks flying overhead; this was the answer.
This was it! This was the vision I needed to anchor. This is what I needed to have everyone imagine as they prayed for her healing and curing. This is what would unify her body, her mind, and her spirit to all simultaneously seek the same thing.
I was so excited! It was as if some great weight were lifted from my shoulders and a spark of energy swelled inside of me, fanned by the winds of my personal enthusiasm. My heart raced and the peaceful warrior inside of me awoke.
I absolutely committed to the goal of Althea’s complete curing. Nothing else could enter our lives—no doubts, distractions, or regrets. I was determined that every player on our team did exactly the same. Everyone had to pull together in a surrealistic tug-of-war to achieve wellness.
Most of all, I needed the strength to see this commitment to its end. So I prayed aloud, “Oh Great Spirit, Creator of the universe. Althea needs your help and I believe I am here to do your will. I know you want to help and I am asking for it now. Send all of your healing and curing Spirits to her and help her in every way you can so her complete recovery can be achieved. Help my spirit to stay in the present and not allow my mind to run my life. Give me the strength to always stay in the moment and see the truth of what is going on. Let my eyes see, my ears hear, and my heart feel your messages and may I understand them clearly and quickly. For I know that all of the decisions of my life and those of my ancestors have brought me to this moment. I know you will help me continue my walk toward you with my head held high, my shoulders back, and my face smiling with those blessings you give to me now. Let the vision of this garden bench fill her completely and all of those who support her. I ask this now.”
I was uncertain as to where this path would lead. Tears swelled in my eyes as I prayed, but my heart felt I had done exactly what I needed to do. I sighed, wiped my eyes and felt a change pulsing through my veins. This was a new and different feeling displacing any grief, fear, shame, concern, and confusion. All of these feelings were gone and I was moving into a different state of mind. I knew the Spirits were now here with me. Much more than acceptance of this situation, I embraced our reality and resigned to my powerlessness.
I returned to Althea’s bedside and shared with her this vision. Placing my thumb again into the palm of her hand I said, “Althea, keep this vision of you and me sitting on your favorite bench firmly in your mind. Taste the coffee and feel your face smiling as you hear the hawk flying overhead.” She squeezed my thumb and shared in my excitement. I knew she understood. She knew what I was doing. “Althea, I need to call everyone and tell them to do this. I need to get our team on the same page and all heading in this direction.” She again squeezed my thumb and then let it go.
I raced outside to that quiet spot by the elevator windows and called everyone I could think of. I said to all of them “When you pray for Althea, visualize this scene…”
The more people I told this, the more each of them got excited. This vision was contagious and the momentum in everyone’s hearts grew in response to mine. It felt like a wild fire fanned by strong winds. This is what I could do in support of all of the medical care to set her on a curing path of body, mind, and spirit.
As I finished the last call, I could feel our friends and relatives calling others, all united in this simple vision. It was powerful.
I returned to Althea’s bedside, put my thumb into her hand, and shared with her this vision once again. I excitedly repeated it to her adding comments about feeling our love for each other as we toast and feeling the warm air blowing on our faces. Each time, she squeezed my thumb in affirmation. I added the smell of the coffee and her favorite butterfly cup. I described our hands touching, holding each other with one hand, and toasting with the other. This vision was getting clearer and clearer each time I told her. As our commitment to complete healing solidified, I tried to picture in my mind what these words foretold.
I had not been very good at this visualization technique in the past and today was no exception. As hard as I tried, I just could not clearly see us sitting on this bench. I could see the bench and I could see the cedar trees behind it but I couldn’t see either of us sitting there.
I said to myself under my breath, Well, I’ll just have to fake it until I make it. This reassuring phrase helped me accept my personal limitations.
I tried again and again to picture the bench with the same unsuccessful results. I then decided to just sketch something—anything, even stick people at this point. I found a piece of paper, folded it into quarters, and began to draw.
I sketched the bench first since I was fairly skilled at drawing objects and buildings; people and faces were my main challenges. Getting its perspective proper, I drew two stick people and then sketched over them with pants, shirts, shoes, and of course coffee cups. I scribbled hands holding the cups high and then tackled the faces. I made Althea’s face oval and mine more round. Adding short hair and broad smiles, I sketched two simple arcing birds easily visible from our upward-gazing eyes. With a few squiggles on the shirts, I finished the drawing.
Not much more than a cartoon, this sketch left much to your imagination, but it was the total extent of my skills and the culmination of what was locked in my mind—until now. This simple sketch reminded me about everything I needed to recall of happier times and our undying love.
The Sketch of the Bench
I picked up the papers I brought from home and began our reading ritual once again. Althea had printed a few things out last weekend she felt was important and wanted me to read, so I read them aloud to her. I let down the bed rail, reclined into my chair, put my thumb into her right hand, and settled in.
As I read and commented on this printout, she spontaneously grabbed my hand much tighter than the previous day, a sign that I took as absolute progress. Although still mostly motionless, she was aware and wanted me to know it. I didn’t want to over react so I treated it as if it was just another normal little caress, like we did passing in the hall. I stopped reading and started by saying, “Well, you’re awake. It’s good to see you. So, what have you been up to?”
I hoped a little British humor would help her respond—and she did so by gently squeezing my hand. I had connected with some part of her and she was reaching out to me. In this moment, my prayers were answered and I realized much was left to do. I needed to observe her every state, her every movement, her every attempt to communicate with me. I did not know how I would understand but that was not important now. Realizing that she was communicating with me was firmly etched into my consciousness.
Lois came from church to have lunch with me. She called me from the lobby on my cell phone and I took a break. Saying goodbye to Althea, I told her where I was going and when I would return. She released my thumb, I put up the
railing, walked down the hall to the elevator, and exited on the main floor. Finding Lois in the lobby we hugged and headed to the hospital cafeteria.
Lois is a warm, loving, petite woman with a heart of pure gold. She was one of the first people to connect with us when we joined our church in St. Petersburg. The joy in her face as we greeted each other on Sunday mornings is what I recall about her the best. All of the people in this small church really loved Althea and her bright spirit brought joy to them all.
We finished lunch and went up to the ICU. Rounding the corner, Lois saw the sight that now was quite familiar to me. Althea was lying in the hospital bed, her head tilted towards her right shoulder, slightly downwards. Tubes were hanging out of her nose and arms and she lay there motionless.
Althea: A Story of Love Page 6
