Chapter 17

It was good to arrive back home. I was not surprised to discover that my yard had really taken a beating. The extended heat wave had taken its toll on my grass and many of the flowering plants. I had hired a neighbor kid to cut the grass and do some watering, but still; there is nothing that compares to the tender care and attention that I gave my yard.

I had arrived early in the afternoon. Despite having that woozy feeling that you get from a long flight, I wanted to stay up as long as I could. I have found that it's always best to try to get back into a normal routine as quickly as possible. I willed myself to go out and attempt to accomplish some of the tasks that needed to be done.

The first thing I did was to get the sprinkler going in the yard. I have one of those tractor types that move as it waters the grass. Once I had that started, I drove over to the Post Office to pick up the accumulated mail. I also stopped by the store to pick up some food items so that I could restock my refrigerator.

The next stop was the hospital. I wanted to see how my mom was doing. When I walked into the room, I could not believe my eyes. I have never seen my mother look so tiny and frail. Fortunately for me, she was asleep, and could not read the reaction on my face. I found a chair and sat down. I wanted to study my mom more carefully. It's always a shock when you see someone that you love in a hospital bed. It's even worse when they are really sick.

I sat by mom's bedside until she finally woke up. She was very happy to see me and reached out. I responded and took her frail hand in mine. It was so unlike the one of the girl that I had just left. I thought of how my dad must have held that same hand and marveled at its wonder and beauty. I imagined my father holding mom's hand to his lips and gently kissing it. So many years had passed and the ravages of time could be seen in the hand that lay before me.

I bent my head until I could reach mom's hand. It didn't matter to me that it was so frail, or that the veins were prominent, or that there were bruises from the needles. It was the hand of the women who loved me and had cared for me as best she could. It was the hand of the woman who I could always turn to, knowing that she would always be there for me. I kissed it ever so softly. I saw a smile flutter across her face. I closed my eyes and tried to think of mom in her better days. I searched for those long ago memories of when she was so vibrant and full of life.

We were interrupted about a half hour later when my brother and his family stopped in to see mom. Of course everyone was pleased to see that I had arrived back home safely.

A doctor stopped in to check up on mom. He held out his hand and greeted everyone in the room individually. He would say, "Hello, I'm Doctor Bashad," as he shook each hand. It took several minutes. When he had completed this process, he turned to mom to see how she was doing.

"My nose is dry because of the oxygen," she had responded.

Dr. Bashad had replied that he would make a certain adjustment. The nurse that was accompanying him said that it would not be a good idea to make the change the Dr. had requested. The doctor had then asked for the nurse's suggestion. She had explained her idea and then proceeded to make that change.

As the doctor left the room, he once again went around the room and shook everyone's hand. When he was finally gone, I looked around to see if there were some hidden cameras in the room. It really felt like I was participating in something out of a television skit.

I stayed for a few more minutes and then told everyone I had to get some sleep. I could feel the haze coming over me. I felt it was getting late enough that I could go to bed without messing up my schedule too badly.

It was so good to use my own shower and slip into my own bed. I can usually sleep just about anywhere, but there really is no place like home. I briefly thought about Anna, so many miles away, and then I was gone. I slept like a baby and didn't wake up until seven the next morning.

That morning I made my own breakfast. On the menu were scrambled eggs, bread with homemade jam, yogurt, and some hot tea. The jam was my mother's freezer jam. I consider it the best in the world. That special yogurt was the only thing I missed from my travels abroad. The rest of my meal was simply fine.

I had arranged to have the day off so that I could acclimate before returning to my job. I performed some necessary jobs around the house, paid some bills, and went down to visit mom at the hospital.

She had recently gone through a special procedure to see if there was anything that could be done to help her lungs. While I was visiting her, a doctor had stopped in to check up on her.

"Could you tell me something about how the procedure went," I asked.

"I should really defer to the doctor that was in charge," he responded. He then plopped down on a chair and made himself comfortable.

"Did they go into the heart with the catheter," I asked.

"Yes, they went into the left side of the heart," he responded.

"Did they go into the lungs," I inquired again.

"They did not go into the lungs," he answered.

I thought that was contrary to the information I had received earlier, but I appreciated the friendly tone that the man before me had responded with.

About an hour later the doctor that had actually performed the test came into the room.

I learned from him that they had actually gone into the right side of the heart. They had also performed a test in the lungs which had not gotten the results that they would have liked to have seen. This doctor was much more abrupt and had left as soon as he had delivered the results. He seemed to be all business, but I could appreciate that.

I sat there and scratched my head. Why had the previous doctor even made any comments if he did not know what he was talking about? It would have been better if he had just kept quiet. The only good news I had heard so far, was that my mother's lungs showed no signs of blood clots.

I left the hospital and performed a few more errands. I went for a bike ride and made my dinner. It felt good to be back in my own house and not living out of a suitcase.

That evening the phone rang. I picked it up and heard Anna's voice on the other rend of the line.

"You make it home safely?" she asked.

"I sure did," I responded. "I miss you."

"I miss you too," Anna said.

She went on to say that she had to leave for the hospital in the larger city. She informed me that she would be there for several weeks. We talked about a number of things and then finally said our goodbyes.

I sat in my chair for a long time. I tried to remember everything about her that I could. I could see her face, her smile, and her eyes. I tried to remember her smell. That was a little harder to do. I went to my suitcase and pulled out a scarf that she had given me. I held it up to my nose and breathed in deeply. It was her smell.

I longed to hold her close and feel the warmth of her breath. I knew that was not possible, but I could still dream. I pulled out my camera and gazed at a few of the pictures I had taken. They helped ... but I still missed her so much.

The next day I went in to work. I was greeted warmly by my boss and everyone the office. After a few stories about Russia, I was quickly brought up to speed. It was evident that there was a good amount of work that I would need to accomplish. I went to my office and set about applying myself to the task at hand.

My brother called and asked if I could stop by the hospital around lunch time. The team wanted to have a meeting to determine the next step in my mother's care. I could always take a longer lunch, if needed, so I agreed to attend the meeting. The hospital was only a short distance from the office.

The meeting was attended by a doctor I had met before and a nurse from the unit. The purpose was to determine the next course of action for my mother. The doctor went on to explain the various problems that my mother was experiencing. One of the things he said caught my attention.

"I thought my mother didn't have any blood clots in her lungs. You just said that she did."

The nurse was quick to respond.

"She doesn't have clots in her lungs. You are correct."

I was somewhat agitated. I suppose the jet-lag didn't help.

"Why can't you folks get the information right? I hear one thing from one doctor and another thing from the next doctor. I would appreciate it if you checked your information to insure it is correct before talking with me," I said calmly, but in a firm manner.

"Did you even take the time to look over my mom's chart?" I wanted to ask.

The doctor apologized profusely. It didn't give me much comfort. I could see that it was the nurse who really knew what was going on. I had interacted about as much as I wanted to with these folks.

What eventually came out of the meeting was that my mother would be moved to a temporary care unit. There she would receive daily doctor's visits. If given the go-ahead, they would consult with some other doctors to determine what treatments she should undergo. Some would be experimental. It was beginning to look like we might need to make some serious decisions about her care in the near future.

I kissed my mom and returned to work. It was quickly becoming evident to me that I had returned to the real world. The bliss that I had experienced in Russia was replaced by the everyday responsibilities that we all must face. I had a brief cup of coffee as I prepared to meet with a new client. Later that day, my boss went home early and left me in charge. I didn't get home until late in the evening.

After a quick meal, I went for a ride on my bike. I have found that in order to work at peak efficiency, I need time to burn off excess energy. A good place to do that is on the trails in the woods around me. I often ride at night, with only the moon to guide me. I do have a halogen light in case the trail gets extremely dark. I stopped by a clearing along the shore of one lake. I gazed out over the water.