When I’m thirsty there is nothing more refreshing and satisfying than a tall glass of water with lots of ice, but after the accident both were temporarily denied, and for good reason.
Once stablized I asked for two things: a few extra blankets for warmth and some water. “I am so thirsty,” I pleaded. The blankets came immediately, but not the water. Someone explained that I shouldn’t have anything to eat or drink until further examination to make sure I wouldn’t choke. Nevertheless, I was still thirsty and begged for water. Finally, Nurse Keven relented saying, “Try giving her a little ice.” The droplets trickled down my throat like fresh summer rain on a hot afternoon; cool and gratifying. I felt rejuvenated — until the next thirst — requesting more ice.
Care couldn’t have been better than in ICU, but the family decided one of them would be with me 24/7 despite the assurance of staff that my needs would be met. All the same, it was agreed there would be a schedule of six-hour shifts so I was never alone: My caregivers main function: watching me sleep and feeding me ice. Looking back I must agree with staff: My physical needs were taken care of very well. However, without Ken sitting near my bedside, there is nothing that fills the vacancy or heals the spirit more than family. Kevin, our first boy and third child is big and burly like my father, and like his brothers is very good looking. Casual, laid-back, and a bit detached; at 18 he too had experienced a life-threatening automobile accident. “Mom,” he asked, “Are you trying to outdo me?” all the while trying to make light of a serious situation. Kevin’s shift was taken from part of his work day and busy political life.
Kenney, our youngest, is the comic, covering the hurts of life with something amusing or a joke. He made me laugh even with broken ribs, and despite the pain it felt good to laugh reminding me that life could still be funny. Yet, my son can be serious and thinks deeply, philosophizing about everything from work to our messed-up world. He and Keith are in business together. Kenney came in the evening and stayed until Keith arrived.
Keith is a no-nonsence kind of guy, the middle son, the fixer, the silent one who steps forward to calm the storm. His shift finished the night and as soon as his wife, Sabina, dropped off their daughter at school, she relieved him.
I slept most of the time, awakened periodically by staff or by thirst. “Ice,” I would ask, and before me one of my caregivers appeared, a cup of ice in one hand and a spoon in the other. Gently, the crushed refreshment was placed into my open mouth. Usually, three spoonfuls were enough and I would return to sleep.
In my dreams I could see a nest in a tree and in the nest was the most pitiful looking bird imaginable. It remained seated in a half-broken shell, looking upward; the feathers — lots of feathers — were still wet and stuck together forming a scattering of points sticking out from its skinny body. The head was round with human eyes and a demanding beak-mouth which was always open. I thought of the creature as me, constantly calling for ice, and constantly fed. In retrospect my sons and daughter-in-law would have made wonderful bird parents.
In the darkness I was aware the shift had changed. Kenney was on his way home for a few hours of sleep before beginning the day. Keith was the papa bird feeding me ice. “Mom,” he said, making sure I was awake and listening. I mumured a soft acknowledgement. “Mom,” he said once again. “You need to know that everyone here is working extremely hard to make you better and you’re not cooperating.” I looked up at him silhouetted against the light from the hall; not even seeing his handsome, troubled face I could hear the worry. Recognizing that he was scolding me as if I were a naughty child, I still didn’t understand why. A touch of irritation in his voice caught my attention as he whispered, “You’re not breathing the way you should. Breathe, mom, breathe — really deep.” “Hurts,” I burbled. “That’s why you’ve got to take the pain medication then it won’t hurt so much. Now take a deep breath.” “Okay,” I mumbled. “Tomorrow.”
With my thirst quenched and the scolding over, I drifted back to sleep; the needy, pitiful bird with its enormopus mouth once again filling my mind. Yet, another thought continued to nag, and somewhere in that misty place between conscious and unconscious I reasoned that I had better cooperate and begin to breathe deeply because if I didn’t there remained a strong possibility that Keith might not give me any more ice.
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