Althea: A Story of Love

by Philip Rastocny

  “I have,” I said affirming. “I could feel them wanting to come with me so I allowed them to tag along.”

  “Our place is getting congested with these stray energies and we need to dismiss them. She described a ceremony to me and—with your cooperation—we can once again reclaim our space. Are you ready to do this?”

  “Of course!” I said anxious to witness what Althea had learned.

  “Alright, just follow my lead…”

  As the smoke filled our small circle, Althea swooshed the goose wing sending the misty sage to the furthest reaches of the room. Concentrating on maintaining the sacredness while mentally expanding its size, this energetic bubble grew larger and larger first reclaiming the living room, then the kitchen, and then the entire second floor. Clawing and scratching noises, like an animal digging against a board trying to get in, tore at the outside of our ever expanding circle. Startling us at first, we maintained our focus and concentrated on drawing divine energy from the Creator to strengthen the circle’s power.

  Drumming louder and swooshing more smoke about, white light flooded from the smoldering sage flowing outward to the circle’s edge. Mentally pushing against a wall, we continued expanding this circle until it enveloped the entire house sweeping every entity outward with its ever growing strength. Finally including the driveway, dog run, front yard, and sides of the house, we anchored this shield into the ground growing it high into the sky well above our roof. Our home finally felt clean.

  With the sharp, irregular beats of her drum and yelps of joy, the first part of this ceremony was complete. Making spiritual offerings to strengthen this energy shield, we anchored the bubble securely around the house. With prayers and special offerings, we asked the Creator to watch over our home and send Angels to stand guard to keep us safe. As we asked, so it was. Whatever these tag-along entities were, they no longer invaded our space.

  A wise person once told me that the direction you walk is much like carrying two buckets on a pole across your shoulders. One bucket represents what you want and the other what you do not. If you consciously choose what you want—with words, thoughts, beliefs, actions, and deeds—this bucket gets full and tips you more into walking in that direction. If you walk through life without consciously choosing, you will move in the direction of the fullest bucket.

  Conscious choice—choosing precisely what you want in your buckets—establishes direction, reinforces convictions, and builds confidence. Unconscious choice—choosing by default—exposes you to random additions to your buckets that may or may not be what you want. Conscious choice—sometimes called shielding or the law of attraction—establishes your own ground, helps you filter unwanted energy, and allows that energy you emit to be reflected back to you.

  Choices are constantly made from every aspect of our being—body, mind, and spirit. The feelings you experience when choosing adds these feelings into your bucket along with that choice. Maintaining calmness and peace during times of choice creates clarity, and adds only those things you want to your bucket while growing your ability to be calm and at peace.

  Being aware of your feelings and dismissing unwanted ones can drastically change your life and gain momentum like a snowball rolling downhill. While few people can choose every moment of every day, choosing consciously—more frequently than by default—assures that your snowball will grow in the direction and with the feelings you want.

  If at first you don’t succeed, try something else.

  Thunder rumbled through the neighborhood as the driving rains swept through north-central Tampa. Lightning changed night to day and the windows of my Mini Cooper fogged up as I rounded the corner onto Fletcher Avenue. Puddles splashed against the fenders pulling my car left and right as I joined the morning commuter traffic. This will be a long, wet day.

  Preoccupied by yesterday’s questionable medications and stressful situations, I drove to the hospital forgetting to envision my favorite parking place. As I arrived, my space was filled with a strange car for the first time since I had begun this ritual. Chuckling to myself, I found somewhere else to park. I felt disappointed but a valuable lesson was learned: stay focused on what you want.

  Arriving at my usual time, I saw Althea already awake. “Good morning, darling,” I said stooping over and kissing her. “How are you today?” Her eyes beamed back at me and her sheepish grin said she was glad to see me.

  We began reading but stopping momentarily for segments of songs and spontaneous prayers. Althea appears to have accepted the delay in moving out of ICU. As we talked, I pointed to the sketch of the two of us toasting a cup of coffee while sitting on the bench. Her spirits lifted and I saw her focus change from waiting to wanting. Without prompting, Althea closed her eyes and began her own mental fantasy.

  “I see the hawks,” she mouthed pointing with her right finger to the ceiling. “They’re circling and soaring above. It’s beautiful.”

  Our normal regime of stretching, bathing, sitting up, and reading continued through the morning as the raindrops lightly patted the window. Time passed slowly as the busy routine of the ICU buzzed around us. Just before lunch, Dr. DeWeese stopped by.

  “How is my star patient doing today?” he said parting Althea’s sweater vest and pressing his stethoscope against her hospital gown.

  “Fine,” Althea smiled and whispered back to him. Althea recognized Dr. DeWeese and the sound of his strong voice. As she relaxed for his examination, so did I.

  Waiting for the appropriate time, I remarked, “I asked to have the anti-convulsive medication discontinued. I believe it is causing her arm to shake more than before and she appears to be somewhat drugged by its effects.”

  “This medication should have nothing to do with such symptoms, but only four percent of patients really need it. I’ll have it discontinued and talk with the prescribing physician about it.”

  “Thank you doctor. Althea has a long history of asthma and allergies. Unlike most people, she is hypersensitive and reacts to most medications. This could be one of those rare reactions.”

  “Today, my dear, you will move out of ICU. We are just waiting for your room to be ready,” he announced. “You should be there in time for dinner.”

  Althea’s face glowed and her eyes beamed. An ear to ear smile stretched across her face, her hands clenched into fists, and rose as high over her head. “Yes!” she proclaimed.

  When the doctor left, Althea became animated. She fussed and fidgeted and her head spun around looking for who knows what. “Woo,” she said pausing here and there. “Woo,” she blurted out again for no reason but to express her excitement. Randomly grabbing my hand she shook it with joy. It was obvious she was ready to leave the only room she knew for the past two weeks. I can only imagine the full extent of her boredom since she now appears to be much more her normal self. With her consciousness and energy returning, she needs more stimulation than the ICU can provide.

  Finally settling down, I sat down across from her in the chair and watched silently as she touched her left hand to her nose. Later, her left hand crept up to the top of her head. Then, in one seamless motion as if she had done this countless times before, she reached further than ever. Grasping both hands behind her head, she lay back down onto the pillow and stretched both of her arms as much as she could. I am impressed! Until now she has struggled to reach her chin, but now she stretched full length over the top of her head! Good news is also healing news.

  Her Speech Therapist came with a small computer-like hand-held keyboard and screen allowing Althea to type messages by pressing its oversized buttons. The keyboard, although a good idea, was challenging for her since her fingers could not push the buttons. Frustrated, Althea lost interest and set down the tool. “Keep this nearby. Your coordination will return soon,” the therapist said encouragingly. “Let’s try writing again.”

  Althea picked up the pencil and attempted to write her name. Despite her best efforts, the uncontrolled swirls at the ends of words remained. Pursi
ng her lips, she put down the pencil, pushed the pad away, and shook her head in disgust.

  Seeing Althea’s reaction, the therapist said reassuringly, “This will get easier as time goes on and everything you once did will return. The more you practice, the quicker these things will come back.”

  Althea’s mind doesn’t work quite like that. When she tries something and it doesn’t work out, she immediately stops and tries something else. She believes that trying to force something to happen is an obvious waste of time. Like pushing a string uphill, it only takes her a moment to know it isn’t going to work. She moves on and chooses to wait patiently for her body to catch up.

  After the therapist left, Althea sat up in the chair finding happiness in this small change. She is anxious to leave. Her mind is not on writing but rather consumed with the anticipation of a new room and all of the wondrous changes it will bring.

  When lunch arrived, the nurse helped Althea into her chair. The simple feat of getting out of bed and into a nearby chair gave Althea more things to think about. Her crossed eyes moved from her feet to the floor gauging the distance. Trying to focus both of them on one point was impossible. Closing her left eye, she slid off of the bed and onto the floor grasping the arm of the chair with her shaking hand. She worked it out in her own way.

  After lunch, Althea stood erect hanging on to the bed and worked her legs. Lifting them repetitively off of the floor, she flexed her muscles left and right. She tried to make her body do what she wanted it to. “I want to practice a little like they showed me so I can start walking again,” she said determined to regain her mobility. She took a few steps, wore herself out, and slumped back into the chair. “Whew! This is going to take a while. I just get so worn out so quickly.”

  The day dragged on testing Althea’s patience and as the evening meals came around, Althea was still in the ICU. “Soon…” I said, “…soon they will have the room ready.” Having said these words many times throughout the day, they had less influence on her now that it was getting so late. She looked at the food tray and her hopes of leaving seemed to fade.

  Diana, her favorite nurse, burst into the room and started pulling back the curtain with a long sweeping motion. “It’s time to go!” she announced. “Let’s get you into a wheel chair and get you out of here!”

  Elated, Althea pushed aside the dinner tray and Diana set it on a table. Adjusting her hat and straightening her vest, Althea wanted to look as good as she felt. A wheel chair rolled into the room next to her and with only the slightest bit of help Althea moved fluidly into the awaiting chair. Plopping down, she sat back and pressed her fingers against the rubber wheels. It was five o’clock and she had been waiting for this moment all day long.

  I gathered up the cards and dismantled the tobacco ties from her bed. Putting her things into one big bag, I placed it on her lap, took off the brakes of the wheel chair, and followed Diana down the hall.

  Althea’s eyes roamed aimlessly taking in her new surroundings. The hallway out of the ICU was as fascinating to her as going to her favorite art museum. When the doors separating the ICU from the main hospital finally opened, flashes of colors greeted her from the clothing of a young couple in the aisle. New noises and new people streamed by her in the chaos of the hallway. Her head continued to bob left, right, up, and down taking in every detail and stimulating her senses.

  Arriving in the north wing, a nurse’s station appeared on her right and Althea’s new room was directly across from it on the left. Althea anxiously peered into the room as Diana opened the door revealing her bed, table, and simple surroundings. Room 377 was now Althea’s home, at least for a while.

  Diana moved Althea into the bed as I waited outside. Joined by more nurses helping her settle in, Diana moved the wheel chair into the hall and a thought came into my mind. I wonder if we could take this on another drive? As the nurses finished and Diana said her goodbyes, I asked, “Can we take Althea for a tour down the hall in the wheelchair?”

  “I don’t see why not!” the other nurse replied. “Let’s get her settled first, and then you can take her out if she wants to.”

  Pushing the wheelchair back into her room, I moved it to the far corner out of the way for now. I unpacked the bag, placed the tobacco ties around the bed, and hung Althea’s pipe bag on the headboard. Althea motioned to me directing where she wanted things to be. Pointing, rather than speaking, she is pleased to have me at her complete disposal arranging her room to her liking.

  “Let’s put up your cards on the wall. I’ll get some tape from the nurse.”

  Nodding and lifting her lower lip in approval, I wandered out to the nurse’s station and asked for some tape. Quickly returning, I arranged her cards on the wall at the foot of her bed around the ceiling-mounted television. This took a while since there were over twenty cards to hang.

  When finished, Althea was amazed at how many cards she had received. Up until that point, these cards were propped up on ledges and along countertops. But now, she could see all of them easily from the vantage point of her bed. For the final touch, I taped the sketch of us sitting on the bench below the bottom of the television. As I hung up the sketch, I thought to myself, Such a prominent place would constantly remind Althea what she wanted—to get back home and to get well.

  Althea’s Wall of Cards

  Turning to her, she was crying and her lip trembled. “What’s wrong?” I asked somewhat puzzled.

  “I’m so happy,” she mouthed back to me.

  Soon, another dinner tray came into Althea’s room and Althea was delighted to eat. She carefully arranged her napkin and neatly positioned the plates and bowls on the tray as if she were eating in a fine restaurant. Then, she grabbed the fork and with a steady hand picked up some green beans. In one smooth sweeping motion, the fork found her open mouth and Althea was eating on her own. Subsequent slices of turkey and scoops of cottage cheese were easy for her to manage despite a slight tremble in her arms.

  Now with a full belly, I asked Althea, “Do you want to go in the wheelchair and tour the hospital?”

  As if in disbelief, she slowly nodded up and down her mouth half open.

  “Okay. Let’s get you into the chair.”

  Pulling out the wheelchair next to the door, I maneuvered it close to her bed and Althea climbed in. As the door swung open, Althea leaned forward with a smile on her face. We turned down the hall towards the elevators. “Here is where I usually talked on the phone,” pointing to the small hallway with the windows at the end. I wheeled her over to the elevators and pushed the down button. “Let me show you around the hospital.”

  Althea didn’t speak and didn’t react. She just sat there soaking up all of the new sights, smells, and sounds. As I wheeled her into the elevator, she looked a bit nervous as I pressed the button to the first floor. “I’ll show you where I bought our coffee.” Hearing the word “coffee” always made Althea smile. This time was no different.

  As the elevator doors swung open, more noises of people talking and feet shuffling slammed into her ears like an ocean wave crashing against the shore. Turning the corner and going down the long hallway, we paused to look at the artwork created by employees and patients. Althea’s eyes scanned the paintings for techniques and textures that undoubtedly reminded her of her own recent works. Moving from piece to piece, she raised her hand touching the frames and feeling the paint as if she were attempting to understand what the artist was trying to say. She traced the brush strokes with her fingers and sat back looking at their style, then pointing forward she announced when it was time to move on.

  We reached the lobby with its tall glass windows on three sides. A carport staffed by valets bustled with activity as people came and went. The front desk on her right greeted newcomers and the couches and chairs were dotted with people reading papers and sitting somberly waiting for news. The giant green palm trees just outside greeted her with flowers and grasses below. The smells of wet freshly cut grass wafted into the room as the
main entry doors opened and closed. She motioned for me to wheel her out of the lobby and we drove by the public computer area.

  “Here is where I spend my mornings before coming up to your room. I write a little about what you did each day and this helps me to stay calm and focused. I save each day’s writing onto my thumb drive and have them all right here.” I reached into my pocket and produced the drive handing it to her. She was unimpressed and handed it back to me.

  Althea is not the sort of person impressed by technology but rather uses it like any other tool at her disposal. Her focus right now is on doing things so I continued down the hall towards the gift shop. Surely as a hard-core shopper, she will enjoy seeing such things.

  The aisles in the gift shop were narrow and we were unable to reach every aisle. But it was enough for her to see the brightly lit bobbles and colorful cards, and soon she motioned for us to leave.