Althea: A Story of Love

by Philip Rastocny

Late that night, the ground started rumbling. Awaking and startled from a sound sleep, my heart began pounding in my chest just like it did earlier with the bear. The expressions on our faces of mutual disbelief and confusion told the whole story in an instant. Unzipping the tent door; we stepped outside and I shined a flashlight in the direction of the approaching thunder. What in the world is this noise? I thought to myself. All we could see across the pond was a sea of red dots bobbing up and down turning onto the road and now heading right for us.

  My mind scrambled to understand what my eyes were telling it. We stood out in the open with the flashlight for a while watching these mysterious dots approach, closer and closer, louder and louder. Our dog Crash started growling and then began barking—finally diving back into our tent still barking his head off. Even he couldn’t make sense of what was about to happen, but he knew enough to seek safety somewhere else than where we were standing.

  The roar was like the combination of rolling thunder on the prairie and a small earth quake in the valley. A few moments later we too took shelter and moved against the tree putting it between us and whatever was coming, Crash still barking non-stop inside our tent. Holding tight to each other, these small red dots grew larger and larger into pairs of small red circles bobbing up and down.

  Veering left and right, these dots grew into well defined eyes slowing as they approached. The thunder grew louder and louder as this stream of red eyes funneled along the distant road. Weaving around the lake with our camp directly in their path, the sand buzzed up and down on the ground below as did my feet from the sheer vibration of this roar.

  They were almost upon us now and we could make out more of the details of these dark swarming shapes. There was one particular pair of eyes that conspicuously stayed ahead of all the others leading this thundering horde right toward us. It was a lead male horse guiding a large heard back to the home corral probably returning from grazing in a far pasture.

  I danced the flashlight up and down from the ground to the lead pair of eyes trying to get its attention. Their steady trot slowed as they approached our camp seeming not to notice my attempts to warn them. Blotchy patches on their necks and bodies came into view as the thundering herd finally spotted our precarious position directly in their path.

  At the last possible moment, these horses split as if by magic veering left and right around our tiny tent. In an instant we were completely surrounded by dozens of deafening hooves pounding the ground as more passed by us without as much as a scratch. Horses were everywhere. What a sight!

  Their hooves carried the smell of the distant pasture along with the musky scent of the fertile earth itself. Through the growing dust, the flashlight caught beautiful colors of brown, gold, gray, white, and black passing by in a glorious stream. With an occasional whinnying and snorting, this grand procession moved along undaunted despite our dancing flashlight and the dog’s annoying bark.

  As the thunder of their hooves died down in the distance, our brave dog finally emerged from our tent and joined us standing there in awe of a sight few see in the daytime and fewer on a moonless night. These horses went around us in a beautiful, graceful, almost loving manner. This amazing sight literally took our breath away.

  We could have been in the middle of a wild stampede, but instead we were given this gift of beauty. Our entire campsite escaped unharmed and done so for the second time that night. Each time we were within feet of certain disaster, but yet here we stood unscathed. The sound of the pounding hooves soon faded into a fond memory with a finale of swooshing tails in a cloud of dust.

  After it was over, we hugged each other tightly realizing the full impact of these two wild encounters. Miraculously, we were alive—all three of us—and we felt like our guardian angels were watching over us, keeping us safe and letting us experience something wonderful.

  When you glimpse your own mortality and survive, it changes you profoundly. Things once considered trivial and meaningless become mystifying and profound and you find yourself grateful for the sheer experience. Simple everyday sounds like birds tweeting; the sights of glorious sunrises and sunsets; watching children laughing and playing; the smell of grass and flowers; the tastes of a well prepared meal; the warmth of a crowded room full of friends; all of these things are gifts we receive each moment of each day. Being in the moment is all we have, all we ever have. As Althea and I embraced under the stars in the middle of a dark Colorado forest, we knew we were given a second chance—another reprieve—a gift. It wasn’t our time to go. But rather, it was our time to experience something magical, something to bring us into the moment. It is what it is—at least for now.

  Staying at Kimberly and John’s house gave me more than a place to sleep. Their luxurious lake-front home with expansive breathtaking views provided just the energy I needed to recharge my drained spirit. From its patio, I sat in the early morning dew watching the day begin as I rubbed my eyes from a restful night. Birds squawked along the shoreline and airplanes flew overhead. The low roar of traffic built as horns honked and sirens blared in the distance. Their lovely home was like a welcomed island of peace amidst a sea of randomness and chaos. Finishing my small bowl of cereal, I turned from this pleasant tranquility to the responsibilities of the day.

  I arose early today anticipating a complete day of progress and brushed my teeth. Will she will wake up today? I thought to myself looking in the mirror into my deep brown eyes. Maybe today will be the turning point. I grabbed my things and headed out to my little yellow car.

  The inner-city morning drive was much different from a country commute. Instead of cows and horses roaming in green fields, I saw people yawning in their cars wearily clutching steering wheels and tuning in radio stations. The darkness still prevailed while driving east to the hospital. Headlights shone brightly in my eyes as I zoomed through the traffic and into the parking lot.

  My morning ritual began by stopping off at the hospital coffee shop. Waiting in line for the cashier, adding cream, and smelling the freshly-brewed dark roast beans helped me further awaken from my restful slumber. I walked down the hall to the public computers and jotted a few more notes into my journal wondering what today would bring. These morning moments were precious to me, giving me time for myself in which to ground my thoughts and frame my focus.

  This morning, my coffee ritual felt oddly familiar, like I had done it before. It felt like I was doing the right thing, sort of like being predestined, but more like being in the groove. As I walked down the hall and towards the elevator, I felt strangely comfortable like one usually does when getting into a routine of performing a repetitive task. I longed for the elevator doors to open and my heart did a little flip. I felt like I was stepping into my own footprints on a path I had trod before.

  Native Americans believe in a higher spiritual conscience and that the Creator lets you know when you are not doing what you should. They believe in all of life, in every waking moment, we should walk toward the Creator. They believe that when you feel like you are doing something you should not, the Creator uses your conscience to let you know you have strayed or wandered off your life’s path. They believe that this simple sign gently reminds us to change direction and return once again onto the path toward the Creator. They call this path the Red Road.

  Practicing this form of spirituality for over twenty years, I have found this fact to be a universal truth. When I speak from my heart, I feel like I am walking on the Red Road. When I shy away from my personal spirituality, my conscience reminds me there is more to life than whatever it is I want to do instead. It is a child-like understanding of right and wrong that prevails in this simplistic, idealistic philosophy, but one I have found without question to bring me the most joy and happiness. At this moment, my conscience tells me that being completely with Althea—completely in the present—is where my Red Road takes me. When my mind told me I needed to be doing more to help her, my conscience told me I only needed to support her. I believe that supporting her—jus
t being there for her—is what Althea truly needs and is the purest expression of the Creator’s love I could offer her.

  When stepping into the elevator, coffee in hand, I recalled my interactions with Althea over the past week. I noticed how these interactions with her slowly changed and how Althea subtly responded to them. Knowing she was making progress—regardless of how small—these tiny steps settled my nervousness and inspired me for each day. Pushing the button for the third floor, I turned over my worries to the Creator and thought to myself, Hang on! Here we go again!

  As the doors opened to the third floor, the now familiar halls of the ICU gave me a peculiar feeling of comfort despite being completely different from the rooms in our house. Here is where our life played out and where Althea’s recovery care is at its best. I rounded the corner of the nursing station and glanced into the room where the new patient still laid alone, still struggling by himself. I wondered when relatives would come to visit or when loved ones would care enough to take time to see him, and felt a brief sadness come over me. He looked so lonely, longing for a kind word, a touch from a warm hand, or the scent of familiar perfume. But this would not be—at least not for now.

  Althea was asleep and stayed asleep all morning. I quickly resumed my ritual of bathing her, stretching out her muscles, and reading aloud to her from another book. Time passed slowly and I had hoped today she would be different, but there was no change in her life force. She laid there calmly, breathing much better than before, but still with her head tilted slightly down and to the right. Her left arm was motionless and I grew impatient. I wanted her to wake up so we could start interacting. But this would not be—at least not for now.

  Her sister called me and I walked out of Althea’s room wandering past the nursing station. Turning right at the doorway I found a floor-to-ceiling window at the end of the hall that peered out onto a receiving dock in the back of the hospital. “Hi Shannon,” I said greeting her sounding a bit exhausted.

  “Phil, I had a feeling that Althea had given up some time yesterday afternoon. I was saddened by this feeling and when you didn’t call I was relieved but still concerned. Is she doing well?”

  “Yes, she is fine,” I replied feeling my own mind monkeys started to run wild from her suggestion. I felt a wave of depression sweep over me and my voice changed. “She is sleeping, and until she awakens I cannot tell if the tracheotomy made much of an improvement.”

  My mind roamed freely from Shannon’s suggestion and strangely I thought that yesterday she may have deliberately allowed her lungs to fill with fluid possibly trying to cross over. But no, this is not what happened. This is just my exhaustion combined with my sister-in-law’s concern that is causing me to momentarily freak out.

  “Althea wants to live, Shannon, and she is asking for a lot of the homeopathic remedy, especially as I was leaving yesterday. This makes her feel better and I believe it is helping her swollen brain go down quicker. Remember how this helped me with my concussion?”

  “Yes I do. You were at an impasse in your recovery and it made a big difference in helping you to regain control of your memory.”

  “It did and I have high hopes for it helping Althea in much the same way. She is coming back to us and we just have to be patient. She is taking her own time to do this, but I know that she will come back. Just yesterday she started toying with me by holding onto my thumb, not letting me go to the bathroom. So this part of her—her wonderful playful humor—is struggling to return.”

  “I am so glad you are there for her. You are good for her right now. To be there all day long and well into the night is a great gift,” she said

  “Please call your dad and let him know she is doing well.”

  “I will. I love you,” she replied and with that I returned to Althea’s bedside.

  A few hours later, Althea was still asleep, barely rustling the whole time. I was getting quite hungry when Jonathan called saying he would be over for lunch. I looked forward to seeing him and talking with him once again. Before long, he appeared at Althea’s bedside and we greeted each other.

  “Hi Phil.” Jon walked over to the foot of her bed and we shook hands. He jostled the bag full of sandwiches and gazed on Althea’s motionless body. “How is she doing today?”

  Althea’s arms stuck out of clean sheets on a neatly folded light blue blanket. Surrounded now by several strings of prayer ties, a long sprig of sweet grass atop her pillow, and clutching her ceremonial pipe to her breast, Althea appeared to be very calm and resting deeply.

  “She’s been asleep all morning without a single sound,” I announced. “She is getting the much needed rest now after struggling for a week with fluid-filled lungs. I expect her strength to return quickly and for us to see great improvements soon.”

  Jon nodded gritting his lower lip to the top of his mouth. “Shall we head down for lunch? I have to get back sooner today.”

  “Let’s go!” I said hungrily.

  We wandered down to that same outside spot where I shared the rest of Althea’s recovery news with him. Jon listened attentively hanging on each word as I gave the good news about her successful tracheotomy and the unusual amount of fluid they removed from her lungs.

  We ate quickly and before I knew it he was gone. I lingered in the courtyard listening to the birds and feeling the warm breeze on my arms. I closed my eyes and tried to take a brief nap but the noises of the people around me and the bustle of a busy hospital cafeteria just did not permit more than momentary relief. I got up, emptied my tray, and went back up to Althea’s room.

  As I turned the corner of the nurse’s desk, I could see Althea lying there still asleep. I settled back into my chair next to her right arm, inserted my thumb into her hand, and read to her from her book. After a few pages, Althea rustled briefly beneath the sheets and with just the lightest, slightest pressure she once again squeezed my thumb. I was so excited about this I set down the book and turned to her like a yo-yo bouncing up and down on a string. I immediately beamed as a broad smile came across my face. This tiny reassurance is all I needed to go on today. I no longer thought that today would be much like yesterday—long and uneventful, filled with hallucinations of ways to stay positive. I was happily wrong!

  About two o’clock, she stirred a little and then awoke. She kept her eyes closed although she was no longer asleep. I talked to her excitedly, my gestures pulling her arm with my thumb. Eager to have her awaken, I used two of my fingers on my left hand to spread her eyelids open forcing her to see. I grabbed the sketch I drew of us on the bench with my right hand and dangled it in front of her face. She looked at it a little confused at first cocking her head back and forth but finally recognized what I had drawn. When I explained the scene to her of us sitting on her favorite bench, toasting with delicious coffee, and seeing the hawks fly overhead, she came alive with complete attention. She smiled and stretched, and I leaned over hugging her close to me. I felt my love for her flow from my heart to hers and her love return to mine. I missed this feeling and I was elated to experience it once again.

  Her hand now closed tightly against my thumb I sensed that she wanted to be awake and with me. I stayed in the present with her doing a guided meditation. I started the trip at her favorite park—the one with the slowly crawling alligators and large colorful birds—then drove to Pine Island to watch the sunset, and finally back to the house for a popcorn TV evening. After this fifteen-minute visual fantasy, she fell fast asleep.

  She slept for another forty minutes in which time I took leave from her, walking around the hospital stretching my stiff muscles. Sitting in the chair next to her bed for long periods of time made me tight and uncomfortable, so I went down to the gift shop to look for a statue of two people sitting on a bench. I wanted her to have something even more tangible that would remind her of our goal, but none could be found. I envisioned a near-perfect match to my sketch but soon realized I must make something on my own.

  Returning to her bedside and parking
my thumb into her awaiting hand she started stirring and yawning once again. I stood up and leaned over as I had done many times before and said, “Good morning Althea! How are you today?” Suddenly, miraculously, she opened her eyes and looked straight into mine. Her right eye was wide open but her left eye was not. Just like her left arm and leg, her left eye was a little slow to move and opened to just a slit.

  I was dumbfounded! With my astonished face looking back at hers, I took a deep breath. My eyes grew wider and my mouth dropped open. I remember telling myself Breathe! Remember to breathe! I stood there in shock hardly believing what I was seeing and pinched myself to make sure I was awake.

  After a few moments of more yawning and stretching, she turned her head towards me and smiled. Her hand grabbed my thumb and she tried to speak but could not.

  “You are in a hospital, Althea. You’re fine now and I am right here!”

  She yawned again, rested her head back onto the pillow, and smacked her mouth and licked her teeth feeling their dryness. She stirred as if waking from a simple nights rest wanting to reach out and hug me. In a few minutes she became fully awake.

  It was so good to see her. I wanted to jump up and down, pick her up, and swing her about. I could barely contain my excitement as I stroked her cheek. My eyes were ablaze scanning every inch of her smiling face. My heart pounded with joy as I struggled to maintain calmness. She was awake—finally! She cried. I cried.