Althea: A Story of Love

by Philip Rastocny

  We reviewed the highlights of her experience from finding her snoring on the couch, to the hospital ride in the ambulance, to the two week stay in the ICU, and now in this room.

  “I only remember a little bit,” gesturing with her thumb and finger slightly apart.

  “It will probably all come back. It will just take a little time.”

  We cried a lot and held each other’s hands. I hugged her close to me.

  “I sure am glad I can hug you. This feels so good,” she said tearfully.

  We embraced for a while and cried together for a moment. I said, “It sure feels nice to have you in my arms again too.”

  “Yes, it does,” she said stroking my back with her hand.

  Other things she did not recall like her gesture to me when strongly refusing to go into the helicopter and not wanting Shannon to come down and visit. Most details were blurs but these were unimportant. What was important was that she talked and communicated with reasonable ease. Her sentences made sense with smooth transitions from subject to subject. Her mind was more intact than I had presumed and her recovery more advanced than I had anticipated. With limited communication, without speaking to her, even what I perceived from detailed observations fell far short of how well her recovery had actually gone.

  “Your sister Shannon wants to come down and help you convalesce once you get home. Wouldn’t that be nice?” I waited to see what her reaction would be since I knew helping Althea in her time of need meant a lot to her sister.

  Pausing for a while—giving this a great deal of thought—she eventually responded saying quite seriously, “In theory.”

  Shannon was recovering from her own health challenges. Pausing regularly to get a breath, Althea saw my concerned face and said, “I know she means well…but with her current health issues…you would end up taking care of us both…I think it may be too hard on you. You have your hands full with me.”

  I am surprised by how different my interaction with Althea is now that she can talk. I understand more clearly where her recovery needs still lie, how far she has come, and what she has already accomplished. Her needs are quite different from my assumptions, so once again I find myself shifting gears and changing the way I work with her. It is even more important for me to properly support her during the remainder of her recovery.

  Her child-like innocence is now gone, the rebellious teenage attitude disappeared, and a mature adult has emerged. I see how she struggles, trapped inside of a body that limits her desires. Her eyes wander around the room more looking for stimulation. The things we talk about are more serious in nature and the words we use are several syllables long. Althea is steadily returning to her former state of health. With these physical constraints, I thought to myself, How much of this is permanent and how much will actually heal?

  After eating a full lunch of real food, a package arrived from our dear friend Gary. I met Gary while in the Air Force. With our mutual love for music and stereos, we quickly became best friends and Gary was the best man at our wedding.

  Althea’s control of her hands is getting better as she more easily opened Gary’s presents. Ripping through the tape and paper, inside of a small rectangular box was a Native American dream catcher and some hand-made blue beadwork jewelry. Hanging the dream catcher on a hook by the TV, I put the jewelry into my pipe bag for safe keeping.

  After a compliment from the Occupational Therapist who said Althea was progressing remarkably well for just over two weeks, we called her sister Shannon.

  Althea spoke to Shannon in her full voice for the first time. It was so moving to hear the two of them catch up on the TV shows they watched together. At the start of such a show, Shannon would call Althea and the two would sit on the phone most of the hour discussing the plot and share their surprise as it unfolded. These two sisters were close, very close.

  Chatting with her sister for ten minutes thoroughly wore her out. But like someone who had been away from family for a long time and not wanting to waste a single moment once reunited, Althea wanted to call her dad. She was totally exhausted and I suggested, “Let’s wait for a few minutes and then call him. Rest for now. We have plenty of time.”

  Taking a brief inventory of her energy, she quickly agreed. Sometimes, when she is really excited as she is now, Althea forgets about her strength and forges ahead anyway. I was glad this time she took things a little slower.

  After a while, I was worn out by Althea’s enthusiasm, and went downstairs to journal and take a short break. Upon returning to her room, the first thing she said was, “Where were you?”

  “I missed you too. I just took a short break for myself. I’m here now. I’m back.” It felt so good to be missed. But when she became tearful, I realized there was an emotional wound that needed to be healed. She cries at almost everything as if she realized how close to death she actually was. She is grateful for being alive and now thinking more clearly than ever before.

  “I was journaling downstairs and have been doing so the entire time.”

  “I know. I saw you making notes,” she said pointing to the notepad on which I had been jotting down reminders.

  I was amazed at how observant she was despite her outward appearance of being near catatonic. My perception of her condition was very different from reality. She was far more attentive than I had imagined and her mind was returning quickly.

  Matching Althea’s recovery level with the way I interact with her is still my greatest challenge. Hearing feedback like this shows me how condescending and insensitive I may appear to be. Despite this challenge, her attitude, acceptance of her condition, and love for me makes me believe her recovery will be complete.

  Dinner came and a nurse put Althea into her chair. She was excited to get up and sit being very animated and joking around. Any food—other than from a tube—is welcomed and gives her something to do with her hands. Whether balancing vegetables on her fork or slicing chicken with a knife, everything she does is like doing it for the first time. Her concentration is intense as her face distorts with expressions of both frustration and accomplishment. Although moving slowly, with each bite she becomes more confident.

  While she ate, we talked about how she was improving. “Althea, you always wanted to do things yourself. Now it’s no different. I am so proud of you for wanting to heal and cure yourself and focusing on your progress.”

  “I know this is going to take a while to recover,” she said in between bites.

  Pointing to the sketch of us on the bench, I said, “Remember, this is our vision.”

  Tearfully, she nodded and affirming with a smile.

  Watching her sleep after dinner, I couldn’t help but feel pride swell up inside of me. It was so moving to see her coming out of the fog and into the light again with such assertiveness and vigor. Althea attacked this problem just as she did others before her stroke. Her enthusiasm and strength shined through any difficulties she had yet to surmount. Although concerned about how complete her recovery will be, I am encouraged by being with her loving spirit and feeling her contagious energy. Soon the vision of us sitting on the bench will indeed become a reality.

  Chapter 20 — March 9, 2008 — Day 18

  * * *

  In her professional life as an addiction counselor, finding ways to overcome obstacles and unblock personally imposed limitations became a natural focus for Althea in dealing with addictive recovery behaviors. In her personal life, using well-known techniques like Neuro-Linguistics Programming, positive thinking, and affirmations all helped her achieve success. Knowing that change is never ending, she made a commitment to herself to constantly seek out and find ways to break through even the most stubborn personal or professional barriers.

  Wanting to take her commitment to the next level involved using less traditional techniques like limit testing, confrontation, and core issue probing. Facing fears and moving through them was a recurring theme during this phase of her life. One late summer evening in downtown Denver, Althea
made a commitment to participate in an ancient eastern ritual called a fire walk.

  Regardless of the hype and mystical explanations around a fire walk experience, the real purpose of a fire walk is for you to face your fears. Your feet are one of your body’s most valued possessions and when you decide to walk on coals hundreds of degrees hot, it creates an instant dilemma in your mind: How can I sanely put my bare feet on something that in moments cooks marshmallows to a crisp?

  Few other exhilarating experiences match the feeling of standing before a thirty-foot long path of glowing coals knowing you want to walk across them in your bare feet. Your eyes see the danger, your skin feels the heat, and your nose smells the smoke from the burning wood. Amidst loud snaps from the flaming fire, you question your sanity. All of your senses scream inside of you with undeniable warnings; walking on hot coals can only lead to certain disaster. The moment you overcome these intense sensory objections and decide to go ahead is when you separate your spirit from your mind.

  The task then becomes multi-dimensional convincing your mind all will be well and taking a huge leap of faith, you ignore your physical reality. Intellectually, you can rationalize there is no real danger since many others have completed this ordeal successfully and walked across completely unscathed. But your mind is persistent if nothing else. Constantly asking, Are you sure you want to risk this? brings doubt into your mind, even at the last moment. If any doubt—even for just an instant—takes hold, your belief takes root in that same doubt and changing this belief can in some cases be insurmountable.

  But Althea does not subscribe to such a negative belief system and knows there is power in words and beliefs. So one evening in Denver, we both decided to “take a walk” over a thirty-foot long bed of six hundred degree coals.

  Preparing for such a feat involves mental conditioning and a repetitive chant to help turn your focus from what you perceive to what you want. What most people wanted was to walk across without burning their feet. But some do burn their feet and therein is the rub. It is not as easy as one may expect, and there is no a guarantee of success. It’s all up to you.

  Walking out in the eerie twilight to the nearby parking lot, rows of fires raged and flames soared high into the sky. Huge pieces of burning wood snapped loudly throughout the length of the massive bonfires. The roaring flames drowned out the people’s comments as they rounded the corner behind us in amazement.

  Firewalk Bonfire

  Almost to a person under a low voice, the phrase “Oh!” could be heard like the sea rising and falling in a stiff wind. Each person’s eyes stared ominously at the sight they beheld of the roaring fires and the long beds of coals. This was the moment of truth; there was no turning back.

  With last minute coaching and meditative preparation, Althea walked onto the mat ready to take her first step. Getting centered and thinking only of “cool moss,” she found a point at the end of the path of glowing cinders and focused her eyes on that single spot. Chanting the phrase “cool moss” over and over, she stepped off of the mat and onto the red-hot coals.

  In what felt like an instant, it was over. Once reaching the far side, other people doused her feet in water and brushed off any lingering cinders from between her toes. Friends greeted and hugged her as she emerged from her trance-like state. Her eyes were huge as she realized what she had just accomplished. With one single step, her life was changed forever.

  Walking across a thirty-foot long bet of hot coals is quite an achievement. Although she burned a portion of her foot, she came away relatively unscathed. Inspired by this experience and disappointed with this small burn, Althea sought out another venue—this time it was a sixty-foot long path.

  We traveled to Hawaii for this event since the small parking lot of inner city Denver could not accommodate such a spectacle. Preparation for this feat was essentially identical to the previous one, but Althea saw that sixty feet of hot coals is far more than twice as long as the thirty foot path in Denver.

  As before, the flames from the long bonfires of burning wood soared high into the night sky illuminating everything around. These fires were so big and so hot the people tending them had to wear special clothing to get close. Muddling about along the edges of these great blazes, one’s skin felt the intense heat from the burning embers ten feet away. The people there were less verbal tonight than those participants in Denver. This task was daunting.

  Althea was in line behind a small woman who started chanting the phrase “cool moss.” Stepping onto the sixty-foot long bed of coals this small woman walked calmly but steadily along the path monitored by attendants ready to help in the event of an incident. Once reaching the distant end, this woman appeared nearly ant-like in size.

  Althea was ready and she felt the adrenaline rise in her veins. As she approached the mat, the fire tenders poured fresh hot coals along its full length as if it had cooled down. Standing there gazing at the stars just above the horizon, she noticed the underside of her chin got very hot. The fire tenders had done their job well.

  Picking out one of the stars directly in line with the end of the path, she gave this single star her undivided attention and took that first step of faith. Her feet touched the glowing embers making a soft sizzling sound. Chanting religiously “cool moss…cool moss” she felt the coals crunch under her feet with each step she took. Feeling much like popcorn, she ignored the burning sensation against her calves and walked calmly but briskly to the distant end.

  As before, she was greeted by attendants who doused her feet in water and brushed off any remaining embers. Open arms of supportive friends waited for her to return their hugs. “I did it!” she cried. “I did it!”

  Not much can compare to the amazing feeling you get when overcoming your fears. You realize you are much more than you believe and somehow find a hidden strength within. Some call this courage; some call it foolhardiness; others call it a test of faith. Althea calls this her personal spiritual connection with the Creator and accesses this place inside of her to draw on its miraculous strength.

  This morning, I stopped off again at the doughnut shop for treats for both the ICU and the three north nurses. Hopefully, giving back with this small gesture will show them how thankful I am for their loving care and kindness to Althea. I balanced two large boxes on my arm and set them on the passenger’s seat next to me. Focus on your getting the parking place you want.

  Arriving at the hospital at about eight o’clock, I once again got the parking spot I wanted. With mouth watering looks from doctors in the elevator, I dropped off one box of doughnuts at the ICU desk and then strolled down to the nurse’s station across from Althea’s room. As hoped, this small gift was indeed well received.

  Entering Althea’s room now adorned with cards, tobacco ties, and the sketch of us on the bench, I found her sleeping soundly once again. Her deep, steady breaths told me it would be quite a while before she awoke, and now quality sleep was imperative in her overall recovery. Sleep, and a lot of it, helps her brain to cure itself.

  Reading aloud and glancing over occasionally, I watched her arms jerk and her eyes twitch behind tightly closed eyes. Shutting the door to her room helped minimize the normal noise from the busy nurse’s station that could interfere with her deep slumber.

  After a few hours, Althea began to stir in her bed. In a half-awakened state, she kicked off her covers and put her legs to the side of the bed. “Do you want to go to the bathroom?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she responded groggily.

  With the assistance of three nurses, Althea ambled over to the bathroom and closed the door while we waited outside. Now that her catheter was removed, this everyday activity along with the art of walking must be re-mastered. Her legs seemed foreign to her, wobbling under her weight. Moving across the room as if in slow motion, she reached out for support of whatever she could find while shuffling her feet toward the door. It was evident she was quite weak.

  Knowing she was in good hands, I decided to get a cup
of coffee for each of us and went down to the first floor to do so. Upon my return, a nurse hovered around her moving Althea to her chair for breakfast.

  The breakfast tray soon arrived with a double order of scrambled eggs, lightly buttered rye toast, and a small stack of pancakes. She ate the entire double order of scrambled eggs, drank all of the coffee and apple juice. Her appetite is improving greatly.