Althea: A Story of Love

by Philip Rastocny

  Like blubbering babies we sobbed together. She mouthed “I love you” and I mouthed these same words back to her. Tears filled our eyes as she slowly came back to life. And this is what is—at least for now.

  Although she could not talk, her tear-filled eyes spoke volumes and her firm squeezes on my thumb emphasized those missing words. Her face glowed like the sun and we stared lovingly into each other’s eyes. In this single moment, my hopes for today were fulfilled.

  The joy I felt was contagious as she smiled back at me, grabbing my thumb squeezing it tighter over and over again. It was like being away from her, returning from a long trip. I stared into her beautiful hazel green eyes—the ones I missed staring back at me—and shared a moment of loving bliss. Althea stretched and moved both of her arms—just a little—and we embraced again and again. All of the struggles over the past week were in this single moment swept away like the last bit of dust swooshed out the door.

  And as quickly as it had begun, she closed her eyes and fell fast asleep again. I softly whispered to her, “Sleep now darling. You need your rest. We have all the time we need to get you well. I’ll be right here. I’m not going anywhere.” And with that, she was calm.

  As she slumbered with my thumb in her hand, I sang a brief song of thanks to the Creator for bringing her back to me. My heart was filled with hope as I saw this miracle of life shine right before my eyes. She seems fine. I thought to myself. I only had a few moments to get this impression, but I recognized her loving gaze and felt our undeniable connection in our brief embrace. This was great!

  I felt like we were shifting gears now, moving to the next level in her recovery. I sat there thinking of how to support her in this new phase of her life. I was beside myself and a bit confused as to what to do now. This was a huge change and I was truly unprepared for it. I only planned on supporting someone who was semiconscious and now she was wide awake.

  As before, I turned everything over to the Creator and glanced out the window not seeing what was beyond the glass. I replayed the sight of Althea opening her eyes in my mind over and over and with each breath, I grinned broader and broader. As my excitement waned and I returned to the moment, I felt Althea’s warm hand once again gently grasp my thumb. It felt even better—more alive—than it had just moments before.

  I started this new phase of her recovery by telling her another guided meditation. I reached over with both hands holding her right hand in mine, and took her on a trip in our new RV to the Everglades, a place dear to her heart.

  “OK, Althea. We’re going on another trip in our RV and this time I want you to drive,” I began. “We’re headed off to the Everglades and we’re all packed up ready to go, so start the engine and let’s get underway.” I made sounds like keys clicking in the ignition and then the engine turning over, finally starting up. My mouth blubbered as I imitated a diesel engine idling as best I could. “Pull out and head down the road this way,” I said knowing that telling her to turn left meant little to a dyslexic. When Althea drove our car and didn’t know which way to go, I learned to point in the direction to turn instead of saying the word “left” or “right,” and I imagined she saw me pointing my finger at this very moment.

  I said excitedly, “Look! There’s a bunch of butterflies in the field over there. Let’s stop and see what they are up to.” I made sounds like the engine slowing and the air brakes coming on. As we climbed out, I told her that all sorts of butterflies swooshed around us. Her breathing quickened as I saw her eyes respond to this suggestion darting back and forth behind her closed eyelids. It was working!

  We said goodbye to them and got back into the RV. Making more sounds of the engine whirring along I directed her to a campground. “Look over there. There’s that campground we wanted to try. Let’s pull in there.” I made more noises of the engine slowing and the air brakes once again coming on. “I’ll set up camp and you go over there and sit on the picnic table. I’ll be done in a minute.”

  I made whooshing noises of the RV jacks coming down and more noises of the typical clinks and clanks one hears when setting up camp. I rocked her hand giving a feeling of movement and participation to this scene. I can only imagine what she envisioned.

  “I’m hungry. Let’s eat something. How about a noodle bowl?” This is Althea’s absolutely favorite meal and one I knew would bring her delight. I made more sounds of cutting up vegetables and boiling noodles, clinking pans and sizzling sauces, commenting occasionally on their cooking progress.

  I handed her the bowl and commented on the taste of the sauce. “This is a good one. The vegetables are nice and crunchy and the flavor is just right.” Although she still laid there unreactive, a slightly upturned edge to her lips appeared where once there was a frown.

  “Look!” I said. “There are some fireflies outside. Let’s go out for a walk.”

  I made noises with my feet of us marching about and said, “Over there by that man walking his dog. There are a whole bunch of them in the bushes.”

  I led her down the path passing the man and we sat down on a rock next to these bushes. “Look at all of these fireflies. They’re just everywhere. They’re all around your head and some are landing on you. Look, there’s one landing on your hand and another right on the tip of your nose.”

  I led her back to the camp surrounded by a formally lit procession of twinkling fireflies. Climbing back into the RV, I said, “I’m tired. Let’s go to bed. I’ve put new, clean sheets on the bed.” Althea is a tactile person and she loves the touch of her favorite eight-hundred-thread-count sheets against her at night. “Good night, Althea.” I leaned over and kissed her on her cheek just as I do each night.

  She was sleeping soundly now and her grip relaxed against my thumb. I took leave of her for a while and stretched my muscles again, walking down the hall and around the corner to the next ward. I felt like dancing and my heart and hopes were high.

  It was getting late, almost time for me to leave. I sat down in the ICU waiting room just for a change of scene and someone was watching the television. Somber faces and blank stares came from the eyes of these people as I presume they waited for some word about their loved one. I sat down and glanced at the newspaper lying there on the table holding it up to my eyes. I could not focus on the words and the sound of the television appeared surreal so after only a few moments I went back to Althea’s room.

  I turned the corner of the nurse’s desk at about eight o’clock and gazed into her room. She’s awake! She’s looking right at me!” I shouted to myself. Althea’s right eye was wide open and she was looking around the room. I walked in and greeted her, “Well, you’ve decided to wake up.”

  With her left eye still barely open, she looked at me with a puzzled expression on her face. I wondered what she was thinking. It was as if she didn’t recognize me. “I’ve cut off my hair,” I said and with those words, she reached out to me with her right arm. We embraced.

  “Do you know where you are?”

  She looked around and another puzzled look came over her face. I suspected she knew where she was but nothing more.

  “It’s Thursday evening and you’ve been in the hospital for eight days…” As soon as I said this, I started to laugh saying “…as if that ever mattered to you.” Althea never was concerned about which day it was; she lived more in the moment than anyone else I had ever met. To her, today was all that mattered. She quickly dismissed what I said and focused on my eyes.

  Joy streamed from our faces. Her loving touches, her gentle caresses on my face, her shining eye, her leg moving, her wonder and amazement, all of this I soaked up with camera-like accuracy and locked it firmly into my memory.

  My heart was not only filled with hope and joy but also with thanks and love…love just pouring over me in a way words fail to describe. Tears continued to fall freely from my face.

  “Do you remember our thumb signals?” I asked.

  She shook her head indicating that she did not.

  I e
xplained them once again and she nodded in agreement. “From these simple signals you communicated with me explaining your wants and needs. It sometimes took a while for me to figure them out—but I eventually did.”

  Althea, dazed as if she were in a tunnel or cave for a long time and suddenly emerged back into the sunlight, scanned her room turning her head slowly and deliberately stopping briefly on the door and the pink chair next to the bed.

  “I put sacred items around you to protect you and encourage your healing,” I said pointing to the items above her head. She marveled at the tobacco ties and the sweet grass, and then I brought her ceremonial pipe—her Channupa—to her. She held it tightly and noticed her left thumb wasn’t working as well as her right.

  “Your left side is a little slow at coming back,” I explained. “Your leg, arm, and eye appear to be taking a well-deserved break.”

  She grabbed her left thumb and touched her finger to it—the one with the pulse monitor on it—and tried to feel where it was. I imagined she was willing it into motion. Then she tried to move her Channupa closer to her face and realized how weak she was. It took my help to lift her left thumb and slide it up the covers. She felt the soft fir at the top and gently stroked it in loving manner, massaging the top of the flap in between her fingers.

  For the next hour, I recounted her journey. She mouthed “I love you” several times interrupting the story at random times. I told her how I never left her side and I how never gave up hope.

  “All of the lessons we learned about intent and positive energy were not by accident. I believe every one of these lessons was needed in preparation for this great test—this great challenge—this great adventure.”

  She nodded in an understanding manner and waited patiently for me to continue. Her eye was glued on me as I pointed to the picture of the bench and continued. “When the vision of us sitting on this bench happens, it means not only that you are healed and cured but also our commitment to positive principles in creating our reality was true beyond all doubt.”

  Althea tired and her eye soon closed tight. Her grasp on my thumb loosened and her head sank back deep into her pillow. I kissed her goodnight and rubbed her foot as I left, her toes wiggling in glee as I did so. “I’ll see you again in the morning. I’m going to get some sleep now.”

  As I walked to my car, I realized how much of this came to me as if by magic. People called from all over in total support. Hearts poured out asking how to help. Acquaintances opened their homes to me and offered anything I asked. Neighbors came to my aid in tending the household chores. Others lined up to volunteer so I could go to work. How blessed I am. There is so much that is possible if you just apply simple principles, and in response, the universe—God—gives you exactly what you want.

  Driving down the road in my little yellow car, I thanked the Creator for giving these blessing to us; we were given the power of choice and the power of visualization. I thanked the Creator for giving us life and the wisdom to make good choices; for this reality and for what unbelievable adventures are possible. As it says in the Bible, God loves his children and whatever we ask for, he will provide. This is true.

  Life is a matter of being—doing is merely a manifestation of your imagination. The real work is first done in your mind and the reality just follows like turning a crank. There is not much to do to turn a crank; if you enjoy doing this, then that’s okay. But if you want to know why the crank is there and how to create one of your own, then just create one in your mind and it will appear—as if by magic. Some cranks take a few moments like the appearance of my favorite parking space. Others take about a week—like the return of a severe stroke victim back into full consciousness. It says in the Bible that God gives all of us the power to move mountains and Althea is truly an example of such power. If she can do it, anyone can.

  When moments of bliss occur in one’s life, it is usually caused by a deep internal, personal, and spiritual connection. Such bliss gives you reassurance that life is good and you are on the right path. Using your personal power in times of trial is what builds character and conviction. When you step up and become the champion, only then can you claim your victory. Until you are tested by such a trial, it is much like reading about how to fly an airplane and then actually flying one. Until you are confronted with stressful situations you cannot know who you are. When your character is intact and you’ve prepared internally for making good choices, you can prevail in such situations. Only a triumph of this magnitude can give you great joy. Only faith of this magnitude can bring you true love. It is what it is—at least for now.

  Chapter 11 — February 29, 2008 — Day 9

  * * *

  High self esteem, total confidence, and complete independence are all well established in Althea’s character. Her ability to resolve issues and find solutions to stressful situations is truly remarkable. She is resourceful, quick thinking, and rolls with challenges bringing options to light most people easily overlook. She sees things from a different point of view and in doing so discovers otherwise unnoticed choices. At first meeting, one finds her unusual in that her values are atypical.

  Althea worked for many years as a Registered Nurse. Living in the small community of Conifer, local challenging employment evaded her. Taking temperatures for small town doctors or working the front desk for a dentist was just not what she wanted to do. As a result, Denver with its numerous quality hospitals and superior care units was far more to her liking.

  She gladly commuted eighty miles round trip each day to a large medical center on the northwest end of town. Althea, not being a morning person, chose the evening shift. She found many benefits working the three to eleven thirty shift; the best was traveling against the traffic during her commute. While most people were going home back into the mountains, Althea’s daily drive was just beginning.

  Leaving work each night at about midnight gave her additional time to unwind, again without having to deal with commuter congestion. Traveling late at night did bring other challenges to bear, one in particular occurred after a brief February snowfall.

  At the time, Althea was driving a brown full-sized 1984 Jeep Wagoneer she named Sand Pony. This car was comfortable, warm, powerful, and quiet, with selectable 4-wheel drive that engaged with the flip of a lever. She really liked its features and we replaced its front seats with brand new, RV-style captain’s chairs. So her commute was extremely comfortable, much like driving a small bus.

  Althea got off work as usual and jumped into Sand Pony flipping on the stereo as loud as she could bear and zoomed off down the road. As she wound through the mountain canyons, the road conditions began to deteriorate as the light snow formed treacherous black ice in unsuspecting places. Flipping on the 4-wheel drive, she felt more secure and stable as she slowed down and crept along the frozen highway.

  The temperature dropped even further as the altitude increased. The hospital is about fifty three hundred feet in elevation and our home at almost ten thousand, so it was an uphill drive all the way home. She crept along with the other vehicles on this two-lane road but soon she was at the familiar turnoff from the main highway to our house. Leaving this small caravan of cars far behind, she continued up the mountain toward our home, now a mere seven miles away.

  The lower end of Kennedy Gulch Road was paved, but two miles from the highway it returned to an unimproved surface, the decomposed granite making it much safer to drive. Slipping and sliding on the asphalt was soon replaced with the sure-footed feel of the natural-earth roadbed.

  It was typically a fifteen minute drive from the highway to our house with twists and turns, switchbacks and sharp bends, steep climbs and swooping gulleys over the entire trip. Our mountain was sparsely populated. Three hundred families dotted the two hundred square miles of thick virgin forests along this route with about half of these homes on our side of the mountain. About half of these were summer homes with people taking residence from May through October. Of the remaining one hundred or so full-
time residents, two-thirds of these were clustered along the paved road closer to the highway. The few remaining families who lived high typically worked the dayshift and were now fast asleep. Dayshift commuters always went to sleep early and left early to make it to work on time during any snow storm, such as the one tonight.

  Within three miles of our home, Sand Pony suddenly stopped dead along a completely unpopulated stretch of road. Trying to restart the engine, she soon wore the battery down and found herself in quite a predicament. She was reasonably off the road, so Sand Pony was not in danger of being hit from oncoming morning traffic.

  Four inches of fresh snow lay on the ground with more tiny flakes gently falling like fairy dust from the sky. Cell phone service was only a pipe dream this far out in the mountains so calling for help was not an option. She thought about sleeping in the car until morning and then in a single decisive moment, she opened the door and started walking home.

  Stepping out into the cold, crisp twenty below zero air at this eighty eight hundred foot elevation point, she knew there was really nothing to fear. At this temperature, even the local four-legged predators would be huddled in their lairs fast asleep. Always prepared for such ordeals, Althea trudged through the ankle-high snow with her mid-calf height insulated boots. With a one thousand foot vertical climb ahead, she trudged along in her fluffy down-filled jacket and long wool mittens with matching hat and scarf. Although no one would see her, she was very fashionable.