Chapter 8 - June 2008

“Dad, she needs help. You need help,” Prince said, sitting on the front porch.

            Prince had called me the night before to ask if I would come by. He wanted help convincing Allan that Mary-ann should be somewhere that could provide her with the care she needed.

            “She’s my wife,” Allan spat, tears pouring down his face.

            “And she’s our mother.” Prince walked to his side and wrapped his arms around his father. “You have to understand that this isn’t just about her. You are going to kill yourself having to look after her all day. Dad it’s not healthy.”

            Aaron stood in the doorway with a cup of coffee in his hand. “He’s right pops. Your body won’t be able to handle it much longer.”

            Mary-ann was asleep in the living room, her body cocooned in a blanket.

            Allan took several breaths. “It’s just so hard for me to let her go.”

            “Allan,” I said, standing from one of the chairs. “You’re not letting her go at all. There’s nothing stopping you from being right there by her side the whole way through. This will just relieve some of the pressure.” He nodded his head, but I could tell he was still reluctant to agree. “Think of it this way. There are likely things that are happening to her, both physically and mentally, that you aren’t even aware of. That could lead to considerable damage. But if you take her somewhere, they will be able to better monitor her progress.”

“Progress!” Allan shouted. “What progress?”

“Dad, he’s just trying to help,” Aaron said, stepping onto the porch.

“I honestly believe that there is room for progression. But if she stays here, the likelihood

of that happening isn’t very high.” I moved forward and put my arm on his shoulder. “I want to see her back to the way she was more than you could possibly know. I never had the chance to see Mary-ann before she got sick. You all did. Remember that. Remember how loving, joyful, forgiving, selfless, compassionate. The list goes on.”

Prince helped his father to a chair. Looking up at me, he mouthed thank you.

“Alright,” Allan said. “What do we do first?”

Aaron finished what was left of his coffee and set the mug down on the railing. “I think

we should take her to a doctor to get her assessed first. We can’t know the help she needs if we don’t know what all the issues are.”

“I agree,” Prince said, sitting in the chair next to his father. “But we don’t want you to think we are taking sides. We want you to be a part of the decision.”

Allan looked at them both and nodded. “You’re right. Call the doctor’s office and make an appointment. The sooner the better, and we’ll go from there.” He turned his focus to me. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for what you did for Katrina. You didn’t have to.”

“I’m glad you called Allan. I would have done it for any of those women. Meeting you and your family has opened an entirely new appreciation for life.”

“Us black folk aren’t too bad eh.” He smiled, rubbing the dried tears from his eyes.

“Not at all Al. Not at all.”

 

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            “Doctor said she’s twelve pounds underweight and losing a lot of nutrients,” Prince said over the phone a few days later. “She’s been admitted to the Rehabilitation Ward. He’s not sure how long she’ll be there based on what he saw with her condition. She may need to be transferred to the psychiatric building.”

            “What do you mean her condition?” I asked.

            “The doctor ran several stress tests and saw an increase in anxiety and locational discomfort. He said that could lead to sudden outbursts of aggression, which at her age would likely be more harmful to her than anyone else. Also, she would have a higher tendency to move about and go places trying to find something she thought was familiar.”

            “I guess that’s why she wandered off that day,” I said. I was sitting in my office making corrections on another story.

            “Exactly. But we didn’t really give her an opportunity to wander off again because someone was always there watching her.”

            “Is she allowed visitors?” I asked, re-writing a sentence for the fifth time.

            “We were told any time except the hours of one to three. They are doing intensive therapy to help her regain strength and cognitive function. She hasn’t eaten much, so they’re putting her on a diet. We told them a feeding tube should be a last resort.”

            “What about your father? How is he taking all of this?” I asked, finally happy with my sentence.

            Prince chuckled. “Still stubborn. He wasn’t happy that she would be spending this many nights away from the house, but we calmed him down enough to sign the paperwork. I swear man.”

            “Yeah, but you’ve got to understand where he’s coming from.”

            “True. I’d see myself reacting the same way if my wife were in this position. Have you spoken with Katrina?” he asked.

            “She took my call the other day, but only for about five minutes.”

            “She’ll come around. You mean a lot to her, I know that. Maxine told me that she would go on and on about that little Italian.”  He laughed and I could hear a car door closing.

            “As long as someone is checking on her, I’m happy.”

            “She’s got plenty of support. Alright, well, I’m headed back home for a while. Miss the wife and the business needs me. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be back in about a month.”                 

            “Sounds good Prince. Be safe, I’ll chat with you later.”

            I hung up, the feeling of a weight sliding off one of my shoulders. Mary-ann needed this. Allan needed it too, even if he was too stubborn to believe it.

 

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            I was blown away a few weeks later when I visited the Rehabilitation Ward. It was nothing like the rest of the hospital. The walls were covered in finger paintings, each room’s floor tiled in an assortment of color. The hallway was etched in yellow painted bricks allowing for the magic of the Wizard of Oz. Nurses worked alongside patients ranging from four to one-hundred, all seeking to regain their life.

            As I walked the yellow brick road, I stopped at a long desk covered in Polaroid pictures of smiling faces. A young man sat in a chair helping a little girl braid a beaded bracelet. I waited patiently for them to finish, her eyes lighting up as he tied it around her wrist.

            “Thank you, Nurse Benson,” she said as she ran off.”

            He turned and was surprised to see I was standing there. “Hello,” he said, standing. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long. I am Nurse--”

            “Benson,” I finished with a smile. “I didn’t want to interrupt. That was really amazing what you did.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice. I’ve been working here for about two years and I can honestly say I’ve made more of those than the average mom. I had to watch a video just to figure out how to do it.” He laughed, showing a sparklingly white smile. “How can I help you?”

“My name is Sal Pitello. I was hoping I could see Mary-ann Cauldwell.”

“Are you on the visitors list?” he asked, reaching for a clipboard.

“I sure hope so,” I said.

Nurse Benson ran his finger down the page. Shaking his head, he flipped to the next

and repeated the process. “Ah, there it is. Sal Pitello. Says here you are a good friend to the family with no restrictions.” He set the clipboard down and opened a drawer. “This is our visitor’s lanyard. You must wear it at all times and it must be returned at the end of your visit. Just go ahead and sign here next to your name for today’s date and I’ll walk you to her room.”

I signed quickly, tossing the pen into a colorful cup and walked by Nurse Benson side. “I have to say, I wasn’t expected to see all this, life. The walls, the...yellow brick road. It’s rather impressive.”

“What is rehabilitation if we sit in dark rooms just talking about it. That’s why this place

has been so successful, we don’t just talk about giving life back to our patients, we show them how it should be done.” Nurse Benson took a left down a hallway. There were three rooms on each side and a window at the end that overlooked the west side of the city. “I was lucky to get a job here. I’m the only new hire in this department in the last twenty-three years.” “These people know what they’re doing and they love it.”

“How did you then, get a position here?” I asked, admiring the artwork on the wall.

“To start, my mother works here. But one of their longtime head nurses

became ill and chose to retire.” He led me to the second room on the left.

            Peeking through the door, I could see Mary-ann sitting in a cushioned chair next to a partially opened window overlooking a small park. Her hair was combed out and hung in loose curls around her ears. She wore a green sweater, black pants, and a pair of slippers in the shape of a flower.

            Nurse Benson knocked gently on the door. “Mary-ann,” he whispered. She turned her head and looked, her face still faded and discolored. “There’s someone here to see you.”

            “How wonderful,” she said, swiveling in her seat. She looked past nurse Benson, making eye contact with me and smiled. “Mr. Pitello. It’s great to see you. How is your story coming along?”

            “You remember?” I said, raising my hand to my chest, shocked to find she’d recognized me.

            “Of course, I do. You’re the one that’s going to make me famous. I’d be a fool to forget you.” She folded her hands on her lap. “Come sit with me. There are some children playing in the park.”

            “I’ll leave you for now. If you need anything you know where to find me. In case of an emergency, press this button,” nurse Benson said, pointed to a large red button on the wall. “Someone will be by in an hour to take her to lunch.”

            “Thank you,” I said, shaking his hand.

            I fell gracefully into the seat beside Mary-ann, throwing my arm over the armrest and looking out at the children building a pile of leaves. A small boy with a blue hat took a running start and launch himself into the pile. The others laughed and threw leaves on top of him.

            “To be that young again,” Mary-ann said, reaching over and taking hold of my hand.

            “I bet you’ll be feeling that young in no time.” I turned, her drooping brown eyes and freckled face staring back at me. “Have you been eating?” I ask, reaching over and placing my other hand on hers.

            “Yes, the food is fabulous. They won’t let me help in the kitchen though. I told them I’ve got over fifty years of experience making food for people,” she giggled.

            “There’s no doubt in my mind you have the skill, but it’s time that people took care of you for a change. They need to give you a little bell and a butler that will come running when you call.”

            “You stop that,” Mary-ann said, slapping me on the shoulder. With deep breath, Mary-ann leaned forward, resting her arms on the windowsill.

            “Tell me something Mama.”

            “What would you like to know Mr. Pitello?”

            “Your fondest memory.”

            Mary-ann thought for a long while, the wind whistling through the window. “Broadway,” she said, laying her right cheek on her arms and closing her eyes. “Prince surprised us with tickets to Les Miserable. We had talked about going for years but never had the money.”

            The way her lips twitched and her eyes darted back and forth under their lids, I could tell she was there, standing in line to get in. A beautiful dress of violet with flowers in her hair. Allan in a black suit and plum tie standing next to her, arms linked and smiles rippling across their faces.

            “He said that he was going to bring a date and he’d meet us at the theatre. So, Allan and I went out to dinner nearby and found our seats twenty minutes before the show. Ten minutes went by and there was no sign of Prince. Another five and still he hadn’t shown up. I was starting to get worried when Allan began frantically shaking my arm. ‘Look. Mary-ann, look.’ He folded the program over and handed it to me, pointing at the cast list. I couldn’t believe my eyes.” Mary-ann sat up, her mouth wide with a smile. “Jean Valjean, played by Prince Cauldwell. And in parenthesis it said, ‘we are happy to present the youngest, and first, African American to star in this leading role.’”

            Mary-ann clapped her hands as tears trickled down her face. Her head began to sway as if listening to her son sing once again.

            “Wow. I had no idea he performed on Broadway,” I said, making a mental note to bring that up the next time I saw him.

            “Yes, for several years actually. We thought he was working with his brother in Boston the summer after he graduated from college, but he was actually living just miles away, rehearsing for the show.”

            “How was he?” I asked.

            “There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about that night. From the moment he walked on stage and started singing, till I laid my head down that night, I don’t think I stopped crying. His voice was so powerful, so effortless, it was like God himself was singing.” She wrapped her arms around herself and squeezed, inhaling deeply. “We found out his brothers and sisters were there too, in the upper balcony.”

            “Did they know before the show that Prince was in it?” I asked, standing and walking to a sink to get a glass of water.

            “Oh, yes. Prince told them that if Allan or I asked what he was up too, to say that he was in Boston.”

            “So, it was all for you. I can understand why that is a memory that you’re most fond of.”

            “There are others, but that stands out the most.”

            I went back to my seat and stood behind it, my arms resting on the back.

            “Will you eat lunch with me?” Mary-ann asked.

            “I’d love to. Afterwards, if it’s allowed, I can take you down to the park. Get some fresh air.” I walked to the corner of the room and rolled her wheelchair over.

            “That would be lovely,” she said, holding out her hand. I helped her into the wheelchair and met her nurse in the hallway.

            “Mrs. Cauldwell. I was just coming by to get you.” Her red hair bounced in long curls and a fade of freckles hid behind a pair of green glasses. “You must be Mr. Pitello,” she said, holding out her hand.

            “Call me Sal,” I said.

            “I’m nurse Proctor and I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know Mary-ann quite well over the past few weeks.” She took over the pushing of the wheelchair, down the hallway, to the left and into a large cafeteria filled with people. “She likes her sweets.” Nurse Proctor leaned down and whispered something, causing Mary-ann to burst with laughter. “It sounds like it’s been a good day.”

            “Better now that you’re here,” Mary-ann said. She looked up at me and all recognition seemed to vanish. “Why is this man following us?” she asked, turning back to nurse Proctor.

            “Sweetheart, this is Sal Pitello. The man writing the story. He’d like to eat lunch with you, if that’s alright.”

            “And go down to the park to get some fresh air,” I said, squatting down.

            “Oh yes, right. Sal. It’s so nice to see you.”

            Nurse Proctor set Mary-ann’s chair next to a table and we walked together to get the food.

            “Even the simplest of changes can alter her train of thought and confuse her,” she said, grabbing a plate and a set of plastic utensils.

            I took the same for myself, walking behind. “Our little trade off with the wheelchair was enough for her to forget me?”

            “Sometimes. It all depends on the day and certain stimuli. I’ve had patients that cry out for a loved one that is literally sitting right next to them. It’s by far one of the worst diseases I’ve ever dealt with.” After loading a sandwich, a few pieces of fruit and stack of chocolate chip cookies onto the plate, we walked back to the table.

            “Mr. Pitello, thank you for having lunch with me,” Mary-ann said.

            “My pleasure.”

            “Alright Mary-ann, I’m going to confidently leave you in the hands of Sal. He’ll take you down to the park after you’ve finished eating and I’ll see you before you head in for therapy. Does that sound like a plan?” nurse Proctor said. Mary-ann shook her head and smiled.

            Lunch was quiet. Mary-ann focused on her food more than anything else and I was happy to sit back and watch. Her head tip-toed back and forth to a silent toon as she bit into her cookies. Although her body seemed weak, her spirits were high. I wondered if Allan had seen her like this, ‘normal.’ I had hoped that he could take care of himself with the time away, maybe even enjoyed it a little bit. But, if I knew him, he’d likely be more anxious now than he was when Mary-ann was home.

            We finished lunch and I pushed Mary-ann to a nearby elevator. A mother carrying an infant stepped out as we were getting on and Mary-ann commented on how cute the little girls outfit was.

            The July, New York heat sprinted at us as we walked outside. The air was moist and thick, but Mary-ann raised her arms in the air and took a deep, joyful breath.

            “Did I ever tell you about Prince being on Broadway?” she asked as I pushed her to the park bench. The children were now sitting in the grass next to a woman listening to her read a story.

            “I can’t say you did,” I said, happy to hear the story and see her face light up again. I sat, my arm draped over the back of the bench. As she began, I closed my eyes, picturing a young, handsome Prince Cauldwell singing Jean Valjean’s, Who Am I.

 

Who am I?

Can I condemn this man to slavery?

Pretend I do not feel his agony,

This innocent who bears my face,

Who goes to judgement in my place,

Who am I?

 

            Mary-ann finished with tears in her eyes and her hands clasped together under her chin. One of the children, the small boy with the hat suddenly walked up. He stood a few feet away on the sidewalk, his head tilted to the side and his brow pinched in confusion.

            “Are you sad?” he asked. “I can hug you if you’re sad. My mom always hugs me when I’m sad or scared and it makes me feel better.” Before I could do anything, he lunged forward, collapsing in Mary-ann’s lap and wrapping his arms around her neck.

            Mary-ann chuckled, patting him gently on the back. “I’m not sad little one. But thank you for the hug.”

            “Landon!” the woman shouted. “Come back over here and leave them alone.”

            The boy stood up, shrugged his shoulders and skipped back over to the grass.

            Laughing, I said, “Well that was a surprise.”

            “It sure was. Makes me think of my grandchildren and how long it’s been since they bounced on my lap.” Mary-ann stared off at the group of children, her lips thinning to a smile.

            My phone buzzed and it was Ryan sending me a text about the edits he’d been working on.

            “It’s almost time for your therapy and I need to stop at the office before I check on Kristina,” I said, unlocking the wheels and pushing her back towards the building.

            “Will you come see me again?” she asked.

            “Of course, I will. Hopefully at the end of the week.”

            “Allan should be by tonight. He said he likes to see me off into the night. But I think he just likes to watch me sleep.” She giggled.

            Nurse Proctor was waiting for us in the lobby when we arrived.

            “Ready for therapy?” she asked, kneeling and placing a hand on Mary-ann’s arm.

            “Ready now that you’re here,” she laughed, grabbing nurse Proctor’s hand and shaking it.

            “It was nice meeting you,” I said with a wave. Nurse Proctor smiled, her dimples sinking deep within her cheeks. I waved to nurse Benson as well, pushing the door open and heading back outside.