Althea: A Story of Love

by Philip Rastocny

“I’ll get one and be right back,” Diana said.

  Althea felt the incision site with her right hand moving it over its lumpy ridges. With eyes staring straight forward, she traced her finger around the part of her skull they removed to find the ruptured blood vessel. Without the stitches in, this area looked bigger and bumpier than before, and I am sure she was curious about what happened to her in surgery.

  “It’s pretty big, isn’t it?” I said to her.

  She nodded back continuing to probe and prod her stubbly scalp. Pinching her lips tightly together she looked at me with one eye and nodded, her head bobbing up and down in wonder. Her left eye, now mostly closed, had a hint of a slit to it.

  Diana returned with the mirror and Althea grabbed it in her right hand. Holding it in front of her, the mirror tipped and swayed while Althea tried her best to see her incision. After a few moments, she put down the mirror and mouthed, “Pretty big.”

  “Yes it is,” I replied with a grin. “It looks like you’ll have another tale to tell.”

  She stared down at the bed sheet, pinched her lips tightly together, and nodded. It appeared she was contemplating the seriousness of her stroke. Althea gazed blankly at the foot of her bed, her mind reeling and her eye fixed as the reality of her surgery and resulting condition set in. She gazed up at me and mouthed, “Well, I’m still here.”

  I laughed and grinned at her reaching down to hug her and said, “Yes you are and I am very glad that you didn’t die.”

  She dropped the mirror on the bed and hugged me for a while, her body jerking as she sobbed in my arms. “You’ll be fine. You are doing much better than people with your condition normally do. You are a strong woman, Althea.”

  She let me go and slumped back into the bed, her right hand stroking her left. I reached for a tissue and wiped her eyes kissing her on her cheek. It was wonderful to see her trying to talk.

  “Do you have her tennis shoes?” Diana inquired.

  “Oops! I forgot them in the car.”

  I trotted down the hall and out to my car. Walking up to its door, I noticed that my parking place was open so I jumped in and moved it over to my favorite spot. That makes eleven for eleven, I thought to myself. Each day before I started the car, I pause for a moment and envision finding any open parking spot in this tiny parking lot. After finding my favorite spot seven days ago, I parked there each day since. Grabbing Althea’s tennis shoes, I hurried back to her room.

  Althea was wearing some lightweight foam boots and Diana put the inserts from her shoes inside. “This will help to properly position her foot and keep it from getting foot drop syndrome,” she said.

  Althea marveled at the contraption attached to her feet and, while snuggly soft to start, it was even more comfortable with the inserts.

  As she rested, I read to her from her book pausing every now and then to grin at each other. At a good stopping point, I said to her, “Let’s see if you can write something instead of mouthing words to me.” I pulled out the notepad and pen from the bag and handed it to her.

  Althea grasped the pen in her hand and pressed it against the paper. She concentrated trying to make it move and finally it did. The words she wrote were like a child’s scribbling and at the end of a line, her hand continued writing in small circles, like a string of the letter “e.” She tried again and again with the same results. I could see the frustration growing on her face as she found her hand unresponsive to her commands. She finally dropped the pen and pad and lay back down on the bed.

  Althea’s First Scribbles

  “I know it’s hard to do this but things will get better. Look at how far you’ve come already. Just over a week ago, you were lying on a couch unconscious with a subdural hematoma, and today you are awake and communicating with me. I know you want to be better right now, and you soon will. It will just take a little time and I will be right here for you.”

  Althea’s frustration faded, and her lone eye looked over at me seeming sad and overwhelmed. It was as if she felt the full pain of her struggle in that pencil. Hoping for the best, her reality was different from her dreams. From here on, I must carefully attend to her sensitivities. I must use positive and reaffirming words, and assure that others do the same. This is an important lesson.

  I left at about nine o’clock that evening and the man in the room next to Althea’s was still alone. Seeing him alone for so long struck a sharp contrast against the continuous visitations I made with Althea. I was glad I could be with her so completely, especially now. I couldn’t imagine what recovery would be like with no one to support you, to watch over you, or to sit with you. I wondered what he thought. Did he feel abandoned? Was there a reason for him to hang on?

  I walked down the hall thinking about what I needed to change to better support Althea. How could I make her feel needed? Everything I did so far worked, but now things were different. I felt like we were shifting gears and, if I were not careful, the gears could grind.

  Chapter 13 — March 2, 2008 — Day 11

  * * *

  The trees in the Tennessee fall surrender glorious colors in their preparation for a long winter’s nap. Althea and I were wed on the most colorful fall day ever. The long gentle rains of late summer produced a kaleidoscope of oranges, yellows, reds, greens, and golds smeared through every treetop and strewn across the ground. Billows of leaf piles gathered in corners and the cool air announced the inevitable change in the weather. With a traditional church wedding, we honored our commitment to our family just as we did to our personal spiritual beliefs: with the highest regard and the greatest respect.

  Althea’s mother and sister planned the entire wedding; its details were decided at a distance and arrangements made in trust. Being in the military far from home can have its limitations, but these two amazing individuals used Althea’s wishes and pulled everything together for us—a daunting task to say the least. All we had to do was show up.

  I took the last moments of my life as a single person alone in my hotel room. In the most sober fashion imaginable, I centered myself wanting to be completely present. While dressing, I smiled using deliberate, caring, and slow motions. I tucked in my shirt, grabbed my tie, and faced the mirror hanging on the wall above the sink. Looking deeply into my own eyes, I felt the certainty and love I had for Althea and kept it foremost in my heart. Jitters and doubts came and went as I stood there dressing proudly for my new bride. I wanted to look familiar with a touch of class that would catch her eye.

  As I finished tying the tie, I slipped on my spit-shined shoes, donned the orange paisley coat, and adjusted the cuff links one last time. Gazing upon the masterpiece in the mirror, I thought to myself, You look good! Grabbing the keys to my car, I drove slowly over to the church.

  Arriving at a mere fifteen minutes before the beginning of the ceremony, I shuffled through the leaf-strewn walkway to the rear entrance. Standing in the doorway was my best man, Gary, his six-foot frame and strawberry blonde hair towering over me at the top of the stairs. Pointing to his watch, Gary said, “Well. I’m glad you could make it. Cutting it a bit close, aren’t you?”

  “What do you mean? I have plenty of time. The ceremony doesn’t start for at least another fifteen minutes. I’m early.”

  “They expected you about an hour ago. They’re freaking out and believed you were getting cold feet. What were you doing?”

  “I was taking my time, deliberately trying not to rush. I wanted to be calm in appearance despite the fact that I am incredibly nervous inside.” I was glad I used a lot of deodorant after getting out of the shower. To me, not arriving an hour early felt like a lot of unnecessary pressure.

  Like a coach before the big game, the Pastor came up to me and conducted a last minute review. My heart knew this is what I wanted, but my face felt cold and I got a little pale, so Gary and I nervously walked out into the sanctuary.

  The Groom Taking His Time

  The church was filled with our friends and family who along with us shared the
hopes and dreams of young people in love. Our parents, meeting for the first time, were understandably on edge trusting we had each made the right decision. But with all the well wishes present within the small sanctuary, our first experience with the Creator’s magic began.

  The church was full of festive flowers in the orange and white theme. Whether it was the white flowers adorned with massive orange bows or the orange flowers in white vases, everything looked perfect. As a soloist sang, the wedding attendants filed in, two by two. Gary and I stood at the top of the steps to the altar watching everything unfold from our vantage point high above. The bridesmaids wore elegant but simple tangerine orange dresses with brown fur muffs and white orchid corsages. The groomsmen wore black tuxedo pants with orange paisley embroidered jackets and white boutonnieres. At the end of the long aisle at the rear doors stood my nephew and niece dressed in outfits similar to that Althea and I wore. They were so cute. My nephew carried the rings on an orange pillow and my niece carried a flower basket scattering orange and white petals down the aisle as the two approached the altar.

  Outside the church doors, Althea and her father gathered to make their grand entrance. While the last moments of Althea’s unmarried life clicked away, the six foot tall man bent down, raised her veil, and gave his daughter one last kiss on her cheek. “You look beautiful, darling,” he said, and with that kiss, he gave her his blessing.

  “I love you dad. I always will,” she said holding back her tears. She hugged him dearly and put her veil back over her face.

  Then, organ music filled the room with Mendelssohn’s Wedding March. Everyone stood and turned as the rear doors opened. Althea and her father appeared revealing the most magnificent woman I had ever seen.

  Althea glanced down at the white floral arrangement wrapped in a bright bow strategically positioned on her brown mink muff. She gazed up, and our eyes locked on each other. Squinting and twisting her head, she checked to make sure the right person was waiting for her at the altar.

  I recognized that smile and those deep hazel-green eyes, but the hair and makeup were breathtakingly foreign to me. This is the first time I saw her in something other than blue jeans or military dress. Her father extended his arm. As she slid her lace-covered arm into his, the march began and the two slowly, mystically floated toward me.

  The music stopped and Althea took my hand. We walked up the stairs together and became one with the ceremony. We felt a gentle, tingly force building inside of each of us that swept through our joined hands.

  As we faced each other, our eyes met and rarely strayed, and this tingling feeling grew into euphoria and bliss. It took my breath away. As the fading echoes of the music stopped, the pastor mouthed the traditional wedding ceremony words, “Dearly beloved…”

  Peering deeply into our souls, our eyes affixed on each other’s faces and all else faded away like the echoes of the music. The sights and sounds of the church drifted off into the distance as our thoughts entered a dreamlike surrealistic silence. Althea swallowed tipping her head as the energy inside both of us built, knowing that soon we would profess our undying love to each other.

  As our hearts swelled, we felt Angels swirl around us lifting us both high above the room. Still locked eye to eye, our physical bodies disappeared and our spirits listened keenly as the Angels sang in joyous response to our sincere intent. Choral-like voices filled our ears and lifted us up to an even higher spiritual plane. The crystal clarity of this sweet song appeared to come from thousands of voices whose spirits mingled in support with ours.

  Our souls, in total acceptance and love, prepared to commit our lives completely to each other as the euphoria built into a grand crescendo. It was magnificent.

  The pastors words perfectly blended with the Angelic song we heard high over our heads, “Do you Philip take Althea to be your lawfully wedded wife…”

  My heart exploded in joy as the two warmest, most sincere words I ever spoke fell easily from my lips, “I do.”

  Still hovering high overhead, I heard the pastor say, “And Althea, do you take Philip to be your lawfully wedded husband…”

  Althea, in a similar vein of bliss, spoke her sincere words, “I do,” that filled my heart with a happiness I cannot convey.

  The final words “I now pronounce you Husband and Wife” were the only others I heard, and with them I pulled Althea to my lips hers already yearning to touch mine. As we embraced, our spirits returned to our bodies and I felt the soft lace and smelled her sweet perfume. It was orgasmic!

  The organ began playing again and we turned to the audience who were already clapping, standing on their feet. As our friends cheered us on, it only felt natural for us to grab each other’s hands and run out of the church at full speed.

  Our Hasty Exit

  We warmly recall that first magical moment with the angels at our wedding. We both believed we had imagined this episode and, a few days later, confessed our supernatural experience to each other. Realizing we had an identical occurrence, we felt even more blessed and wondered if the pastor had felt the same things we did.

  These blissful feelings of love grew in our time together. It didn’t seem possible we could love each other more than we did on that mystical day, but each day since we found new ways to do just that. We work hard on our relationship as anyone works hard on a job they enjoy. Putting our challenges in order and remembering that moment of angelic glory always keeps our love foremost in our lives. Hard work yields positive results and working together on our relationship was no different, but vastly more rewarding.

  The things Althea and I accumulated in life have all slipped away and little—save our wedding pictures—remains in the way of possessions from the first year of our marriage. But our love lingers and it always will, despite the eternal erosion of time. She has found her soul mate and I have found mine. Nothing can erase our memories…they will last long after everything else has gone. To us, making more wonderful memories is what is most important.

  Together at Last

  To give of yourself unconditionally brings honor to both hearts.

  Excitement! This is the single word that fills my heart as I anxiously stirred this morning in my bed. Like an Olympic sprinter hearing the shot from a starting gun, I raced through the house looking forward to what today would bring. I feel a momentum building inside Althea, and I can envision her curing crescendo just around the corner. I hurriedly brushed my teeth, dressed, and drove off to the hospital.

  Tapping the steering wheel in beat with the music, I danced in my car seat as I pulled into the doughnut shop. Although I felt guilty about buying doughnuts for Althea’s medical team and contributing to tooth decay, weight gain, and who knows what else, I moved into allowance and stuffed another dozen of those hand-picked morsels into the box.

  As I drove to the hospital, I again visualized my favorite parking place being open and my car pulling right in. As I entered the lot, sure enough, there it was, empty and waiting for me. I’m getting pretty good at this visualization exercise I thought to myself as I smiled turning off the engine.

  Wandering through the now familiar hospital corridors, I felt comfortable like one does after a week of being at a new job. My actions began to feel mechanical and developed a routine that went something like this:

  Get my favorite parking place

  Go to the public computers and journal on the previous day’s events

  Check email and write progress notes to folks

  Stop off at the coffee shop for two cups of coffee

  Spend the whole day with Althea.

  Now that Althea is recovering well, I feel more freedom to take longer in doing this routine. Sharing good news with folks, especially when she is progressing well, is a welcomed task. Each time I dropped another personal note to someone, I got goose bumps all over my body sharing my enthusiasm with them. In my mind‘s eye I could see Althea awake and joking with me, just as she always did.

  I made it up to Althea’s room a
t about nine thirty A.M. and saw her probing through those tubes and wires again. Coughing more easily now, her trachea tube fills up quickly with that nasty looking sputum. “Good morning, darling. How are you today?”

  Pointing to her throat, I asked in response, “Do you want me to suction out your airway?” Affirming between coughs, she nodded. I grabbed the manual suction line from behind her bed using it as the nurse showed me yesterday. As I suctioned her clean, I saw the blood in her secretions becoming thinner and clearer. This is yet another sign of progress, I thought to myself.

  “Would you like some coffee?” I asked already knowing the answer.

  She nodded with glee as I handed her the cup. She maneuvered it amazingly well and sipped it with certainty, smiling and smacking her lips. Coffee has always been a favorite ritual of ours and I am sure this small sip brought back memories of those in our kitchen.