It wasn’t long before friends started calling expressing well wishes and their desire to visit. Thanking them for their prayers and well wishes, I delayed visitations for now.
I finished unpacking the car and lay down in bed next to Althea. Sleeping next to someone for almost forty years is more than a habit; it’s a lifestyle and one that you dearly miss when it is gone. Finally able to lie down next to her was blissfully fulfilling. She rested peacefully, snoring lightly, and gasping every now and then—just as she always did. Touching her warm arm, I wrapped my fingers around her wrist and gently squeezed my hand. “We’re home, honey. We’re back.”
Seeing her lie there, listening to her breathing, and feeling her warmth was like a dream. I was so accustomed to commuting to the hospital and now this…now she was home. The enormous change in her health from just over three weeks ago baffled me completely. I wonder what the next few weeks will bring? I thought mesmerized by the sight of her sleeping shape.
After thirty minutes, I got up and left her alone. She slept for a few more hours while I straightened up the house and put things away. From the kitchen, I heard her stir and helped her into the living room. Sitting on the couch recliner, she looked out the windows at the house across the street. “Your friends want to come and see you. Do you want visitors today?” I asked.
“Maybe I could…for a little while. It would be nice to see them.”
Soon after, three of her favorite friends came to visit each bearing hugs, kisses, and gifts. One friend brought soup, another gave her a card, and still another flowers. Each was attentive to her needs and amazed at her progress. Althea talked in short bursts with brief, concise words with them, grateful for being able to do so. From the comfort of her own home, she was visiting with friends again just as she had before. Her heart soared from their display of love and caring.
When they left, Althea turned to me and said, “How long was I gone?”
“Twenty three days, darling. That’s a little more than three short weeks. We all cannot believe how quickly you’ve recovered. Each of these visitors had friends or family experience a stroke and their recoveries were nothing like yours. You are unique!”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Yes you did. You believed that you would get better and you did. You didn’t let your stroke disrupt your life. You embraced it, accepted it, and your determination and persistence brought you to where you are today, right here, right now. You did this, with the blessings of the Creator.”
Tearfully, Althea reached out for me, pulling me down to her. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“There were times I thought things would be very different. But here we are, home at last. Now all we have to do is get you back onto your bench just like in the sketch.”
Althea wiped her eyes and let me go. I sat down next to her holding her hand in mine. “Soon…we will soon be sipping coffee toasting just as I sketched it. Wait and see.”
Chapter 26 — March 15, 2008 — Day 24
* * *
While we were unmarried, our whirlwind romance in the U.S. Air Force was interrupted by changing duty assignments. From our meeting at Sheppard AFB, Texas, I returned to Altus AFB, Oklahoma, and Althea was transferred to Randolph AFB in San Antonio, Texas. While for some, distance may make the heart grow fonder; in our separation it placed a severe strain on our young love.
Being on your own is a challenge for any independent eighteen-year old, but being on your own without reliable transportation can be a living nightmare. Weekends for Althea were times of exploration and without wheels, she depended on friends and public transportation to get around—neither of which she favored. Her wild, adventurous spirit felt restrained being unable to do, go, and see the things her heart desired.
On a telephone conversation, Althea asked me, “It’s really boring here not being able to get out. Can you help me get a motorcycle?”
Already owning a motorcycle of my own, I understood the call of the road. Little can compare to the feelings of independence and freedom one achieves while riding in the wind on a warm day. Without the constraints of doors and windows, a motorcycle fulfills the youthful fantasy for any rider of flying just above the ground. I understood this calling and why Althea asked me to help her have these same feelings.
I just couldn’t say no. So on an “emergency” visit to Texas, we found a used blue Honda 90 in the newspaper and Althea proudly drove her off-road scrambler back to Randolph AFB. Still riding this same bike for several years after we married, she eventually moved up to a bright red Honda Shadow 500.
For long trips, a bigger bike rides better and Althea started racking up the miles. This low-rider was ideal for her short legs and its cruiser styling caught her eye. It was lightweight, nimble, shaft drive like a car, and very easy to park. But as time went on, we started going on longer and longer road trips, and even a bike this size proved to be tiring after a just few short hours.
On a trip through the winding canyons in Wyoming’s Medicine Bow National Forest, we freely talked back and forth to each other with our new hands-free helmet radios. These hands-free radios brought another dimension to the enjoyment of the ride making it feel like we were intimately sharing every moment of the experience. Being able to say something to your riding partner at any time without stopping or yelling through your helmet was a delight.
The Snowy Mountain Scenic Byway, with nearly thirty miles of spectacular views and tight turns is by definition why someone takes a road trip on a motorcycle. Driving east to west, we crested a pass and dove down into the valley below. The snaking narrow road went on for miles constantly switching back and forth, left and right. Tight turns in switchbacks with light gravel in the bends momentarily toggled your focus from the amazing scenery and back to the road. Even driving slowly, the ride for Althea was very tiring.
Snowy Mountain Switchbacks
Noticing her struggle after one particularly sharp switchback, I said to her through our radios, “Why don’t you try my bike for a while. It’s easier to steer than yours.”
Despite her deep attachment to her own wheels, Althea reluctantly agreed and we stopped briefly to trade bikes.
My green Honda Magna 750, also a low-riding shaft-drive cruiser, carried most of the weight for this trip but it was well balanced and very easy to maneuver. Navigating the turns, despite the increased load of our four-season tent and cooking gear, was not much more than a simple lean. This bike smoothly responded to your slightest command.
It only took a few minutes of cruising when I heard the remorseful words from Althea’s radio. “Phil, I hate you,” she said jokingly.
“What do you mean?” I chuckled to myself fully knowing what I was about to hear.
“This bike is amazing. All I have to do is lean and it turns. With my bike I have to push it through a turn to make it do that.”
For the remainder of the trip we switched off bikes back and forth to give each other a break. Although the handlebar height and footrest positions on each bike were custom adjusted specifically for one driver, the change was welcomed during long days. After this trip, Althea was convinced that her bike no longer met her needs and she too wanted a Magna.
Selling her beloved Shadow was an emotional event. Although a Magna was easier to ride, it was considerably heavier and harder to park. Putting a Magna up on its kickstand was a major feat where the Shadow wasn’t much harder to do than her first lightweight 90 Scrambler. But the memory of the low-stress ride and effortless steering stayed with her and soon she purchased a Magna 700 of her own.
For this era in motorcycles, the Honda Magna was a precision and highly desirable road machine. Japanese cruiser-style motorcycles copied the shaft-drive mechanism of the long-famed European manufacturer, BMW, and the Magna was one of the first of its kind. The major mechanical improvement of a shaft-drive system over a chain was that it drove much like a car. Sacrificing some power for greater reliability and comfort, the shaft-driv
e system lowers noise and resulting emotional strain encountered during prolonged exposure to repetitive vibrations and sounds.
Althea found a used Magna from a friend and the two—Althea and her bike—soon bonded. Much like an emotional attachment to a favorite pet, just looking at a prized motorcycle brings similar feelings to its owner. Just as crazed pet owners care for their pets by buying fancy collars and toys, motorcyclists do the same for their prized rides.
Althea’s short legs dictated a change in the already low seat to an even lower one, and other frilly accessories soon found their way to its frame as necessity demanded. A custom red paint job, pin stripes, hand painted artwork, full wind fairing, highway foot pegs, and even air horns eventually adorned her road-worthy ride she affectionately named Lady Coyote. Even its name proudly appeared both on her license plate and eventually hand lettered on her shiny red gas tank.
The Lady
Still as independent as ever, she decided one warm summer day to take a leisurely drive through the mountains on her new bike—alone. Her bike was always ready to go at a moment’s notice so she grabbed her matching custom painted helmet, put on her black leather fringed jacket with red rose cutouts, zipped up her black leather chaps, and jumped on Lady Coyote.
Heading down our long driveway was a challenge with its thirty percent grade but before she knew it she was on the dirt road heading down the mountain. It was seven miles to the main highway, the first half of which was on rough unimproved gravel roads. Taking the lower road with the fewer switchbacks, wider turns, and striking beauty, she confidently drove down toward the paved intersection cautiously entering each precarious turn.
The day was perfect with low wind, warm sun, and no rain. Surrounded by bright butterflies in the brush, striped chipmunks chirping in the trees, and golden eagles soaring high overhead, she rounded the second switchback and unexpectedly hit a patch of loose gravel. While Althea is an excellent driver, her front wheel slid out before she could recover. It happened so fast there was only time to step off the bike and try her best to gently lay it down. The Lady was lying helpless on her side.
Reaching over to the ignition, she turned off the engine looking dumbfounded and in disbelief at her beloved bike sprawled out in the middle of the road. Now the struggle to right her ride lay at her feet. Lifting a five hundred pound motorcycle despite the fact that it was well balanced is hard to do on asphalt and nearly impossible to do on gravel. Finding a low point for her to push against proved elusive. Undaunted by a brief struggle in the loose gravel, Althea decided to get help. Nothing would keep her from riding today.
Homes on our mountain sat comfortably on parcels of land between two and forty acres in size. Unlike clustered residential communities, the driveways on mountain roads are usually a long way apart. Determined, she walked quite a ways down the road to the nearest neighbor, followed the long winding driveway to the home, and knocked on the door. A young woman swung open the screen door staring at this wild looking rider in her shiny black leather gear.
“Hello. I’m Althea and I live just up the road. While riding my bike today, I turned a corner and it went down. Now, I am having trouble getting it back up. Could you help me pick it up? It’s just up the road a piece.”
“A bicycle?” the neighbor asked.
“No, it’s a motorcycle. I dropped it going around the corner just up the road,” Althea repeated her plea realizing that the woman did not clearly understand what she was asking. Maybe it’s the way I’m dressed that’s scaring her, she thought.
After what seemed like minutes but were most likely moments, the neighbor volunteered “Sure. I’ll help you.”
Being seven miles from the main highway, traffic was practically nonexistent so there was no real danger of someone inadvertently driving over Lady Coyote in Althea’s absence. The two walked back to the site of the incident, and soon Lady Coyote was upright again. With a quick snap of her wrist on the bike’s throttle, Althea sped off down the road mindful of this small deterrent but focused on the joys of her ride.
Once Althea puts her mind to something, few obstacles can deter her. With the conviction and perseverance of an Olympic Gold Medalist, even righting a motorcycle that outweighed her by over four times her own weight could not stop her from enjoying her ride.
She drove through back roads, cresting mountain passes, and into small neighborhoods. Exploring was her second nature and from the bike’s unobstructed views, Althea drove down every road of our mountain community. The small front tire of Lady Coyote plowed through the dusty roads much like a boat through water. Brown clouds billowed behind her as she putted slowly down the road enjoying every moment. Breathtaking sites of tall distant peaks frequented her ride through the winding rural community. With each turn, something new appeared.
She had never explored our neighborhood and getting lost is how Althea learns how to get somewhere. Maps, compasses, and signs are of little value. Instead, Althea uses her visual acuteness to know just where she is. Although the wilderness consists of a blur of repetitive trees and random rock formations, the subtle differences in uniqueness of each moment did not escape Althea’s keen attention. Backtracking from dead ends, recognizing intersections, and retracing routes helped her retain a sense of direction.
If Althea gets lost, she takes a moment to reflect, changes her expectations based on her new circumstances, and asks the Creator for help. Despite her severe dyslexia, by noting these striking landmarks and subtle formations, she eventually draws her own map in her mind, one she understands on her own terms.
Fear is a word that seldom registers with Althea. While she respects situations, she rarely surrenders to fear but redirects its energy into strength. When defeat or tragedy is a possible outcome, finding the courage and wisdom from within brings clarity to her choices. Wielding this attitude through life changes how it unfolds. She steers her choices in life’s directions just like she steers the handlebars on her bike—with loving attention, optimism, and extreme enthusiasm.
.
Five Hundred Pounds
She could have quit the ride after the fall thinking that the gravel was just too loose and too risky to ride on, but instead she used this experience to sharpen her driving skills. She could have given up when getting lost while riding on the mountain, but instead persevered and used what she observed in creating her own kind of roadmap. Giving up is not her style. Her positive attitude surrenders to the changes, accepts them, but uses her energy to create solutions. What an incredible team of Ladies these two are.
Althea’s first night’s sleep back in her own bed proved to be exactly what she needed. Aside from the welcomed feeling of being home, the nurturing feeling of her personal space rejuvenated her spirits. Setting up the house to accommodate her changed behavior was the current task at hand.
Removing throw rugs, storing furniture, and making everything more easily accessible occupied my early morning time. I would do whatever it took to keep her from reinjuring herself now that she had made such a stellar recovery. Anything that could cause her to trip or bump her head was quickly eliminated.
She slept very late today, getting up just before noon. I heard her stirring in the bedroom while I busied myself in our small kitchen. A low yawn floated through the air and I walked toward the bedroom door with my familiar phrase, “Good morning, darling. How are you today?”
Her strength returning, Althea used a walker to make her way slowly into the living room. It is here that she would spend the majority of her time on the mend. Making this a pleasant experience, despite how long it took, was now my full-time job.
Much like an infant, every aspect of her grooming, feeding, and entertaining required my attention. It’s not that she needed me to do these things for her; she merely required my assistance to help her while she worked out how to re-master them again.
Walking through the house on her trusty walker, I followed behind her ready to catch her if she tired or fell. Allowing her to try at he
r own pace is what she needs most. Encouraging her to do things without placing her in harm’s way was a daunting and delicate task.
Despite the obvious compromised physical condition, Althea’s emotional state is remarkable. Much like driving her motorcycle, she addressed obstacles and challenges with the same optimism and enthusiasm. It is in these behaviors that I saw the real Althea coming back to life.
Her hospital routine of reading, stretching, and bathing was now replaced with walks around our house and watching her favorite television programs. Althea loves movies as much as she loves reading. Stories of any kind always entertain her. When televised programs did not meet her needs, selections of movies from our vast video library helped her pass the time.
After making her breakfast, I inquired, “Many of your friends have wanted to come over and visit you. Is it too early for this?”
Althea sat there quietly, pondering the situation almost as if she didn’t hear me. It takes Althea a while to respond to a question and I waited patiently for her answer.
Althea: A Story of Love Page 37
