Elephant in the Sky (15 page)

37

After I'd gone for a walk outside of the hospital, the weight of the anger that had attached itself to my shoulders slowly started to lift. I inhaled deeply, squeezing my eyes shut, and let the crisp, cold air fill my lungs and nip at the insides of my chest.

I stood there, focusing on my breathing, just like they'd taught me to do in my prenatal class. After a few moments, I opened my eyes. Everything was blurry after squeezing them shut for so long, and my eyes needed to acclimatize to the sights around me.

All around, people were rushing about. Everyone was in a hurry. It was clear people were late for appointments. In need of test results. Trying to exist within the chaos that hospitals present.

A little girl about four years old, wearing a green jacket and plaid mittens, skipped down the sidewalk alongside a man who I assumed was her father. She was holding his hand, and radiated so much joy that I thought she would burst. The balloons the man carried said “It's a boy!” I imagined the little girl's mother holding a tiny, newborn baby on the fourth-floor maternity wing, singing softly and welcoming her newest family member to the world.

“Are you excited?” the man asked the little girl as they passed by me. “Don't forget to call him by his name. Do you remember what we named him?”

“Yes, Daddy. It's Steven. We named him Steven. But I'm going to call him Stevie.”

“Okay, honey,” the father laughed, bringing his daughter in for a little hug. “You can call him Stevie.”

When the father and his little girl had passed, a horn honked angrily and I turned my attention to the street. Taxicabs formed a row directly out front, waiting for their next fare. The drivers of the cars looked bored. Tired. Grouchy. The looks on their scrunched faces mirrored what I was feeling. I thought about getting in one of the cabs and taking a drive around the city for a bit. Away from the hospital. Away from life.

But I knew I couldn't do that. No matter how much I needed to escape, I couldn't abandon my son. I needed to put him first.

Instead, I kept walking. Eventually I made my way back to one of the benches outside of the main hospital doors. I sat down and leaned forward, placing my elbows in my lap and propping my head up with closed fists. The bench was cold, and the iciness of exposed metal snaked its way through my pants and attached itself to my legs.

About fifteen feet away, I watched a man in his early forties push a delicate woman in a wheelchair towards the hospital doors. She was so short that she barely made it above the top of the wheelchair. On her head, she wore a pretty pink hat with a matching winter coat that looked like it was two sizes too big.

I noticed her slowly raise a frail hand in an attempt to get the man's attention. I could tell it took her more energy than she had just to raise her finger.

The man stopped and bent down to put his ear next to her mouth so he could hear her; I doubted her voice was barely more than a whisper. The man listened attentively, nodding his head to let the frail woman know that he understood.

I knew I was being rude, staring at them as I was, but I couldn't take my eyes off of them. The woman was so pretty, even in her feeble state, and it was obvious how much the man cared about her.

After a few moments of hushed conversation, and a tiny smile from the woman that looked like it took as much energy as raising her hand had, the man continued pushing the woman towards the hospital.

Something about the way the man pushed her wheelchair — and how he had looked at her when she was speaking to him — told me with absolute certainty that the man was her son. A son who had been raised so well he didn't think twice about taking a hiatus from his likely successful and thriving life to take care of his ailing mother … because it was the same mother who had spent
her
glory years rocking her son to sleep when he was a baby, even though her entire body ached from lack of sleep.

For the grown man, the woman he was pushing in her wheelchair had been the healer who had sat up all night with
him
when he was ill. The educator who spent endless hours helping her son with his math homework at the kitchen table. The taxi driver who took him to his early morning hockey practices every weekend. And the worrier who stayed up well into the wee hours of the morning, waiting for her teenage boy to come home, just so she knew he was safe.

The man wasn't taking care of his ill mother just because he wanted to. Nor was he doing it solely out of obligation. The man was caring for his mother because somewhere deep inside of him lived an unconditional love that was so powerful he didn't have an option. Simply put, he was all in, and completely committed to his family.

Standing there, watching the woman and her son, induced a shift in my attitude towards everything that was going on with my own family. While not even realizing they were doing it, the man and his mother had reminded me that, after all the complicated layers have been peeled away from the complex onion we call life, what's really left is the unconditional love for those we care about most. It's the connection that keeps us tied to them. Helping them. Forgiving them. No matter what else has happened.

Unconditional love keeps us moving forward, I thought. It's altruism that offers no bounds and is completely unchanging. An affection and allegiance to the people in our lives — the very same people who likely drive us the craziest — with whom we've either been tied to by blood or have chosen as lifelong companions. With no limitations and no exceptions, unconditional love is stronger than reason. More powerful than choice. And it provides us with a dynamic, unexplained energy that lifts us up in the most difficult times, and bonds us to the family members within our complex world of challenge and uncertainty.

The man pushing his mother in her wheelchair was standing by her. Walking alongside her, no matter how big her battle had been, or would be in the future. He was committed to her. No matter what.

And I was committed to my family. To my husband and, most importantly, my son. My immeasurable loyalty to Nate had never been in question. But I had thought about walking away from my husband.

Nothing was going to change the fate that had been handed to us as a family. We were in the battle together, no matter what was thrown at us. I was angry at Pete for not telling me about my father's illness. He shouldn't have kept it from me. But he did it to protect me, as well as my father. He did it because he thought it was right. I couldn't let a mistake that was made based on my genuine best interests get in the way of the altruistic ties that were meant to bind us together as a family.

As a mother who loved her son more dearly than life itself, I wouldn't let anything get in the way of Nate's health, whether physical or mental. I simply had no choice. It was the unspoken vow that had wrapped itself around Nate and me the moment I held his six pound, twelve ounce body for the first time, moments after his birth.

My son deserved the world. A world filled with opportunity and health. And he certainly deserved two parents fighting for his recovery, together, as a united couple.

As I walked through the hospital doors, anxious to get back to Nate, a nagging thought continued to play through my mind: if I believed so strongly in loving family members unconditionally, what did that mean for my father and me? He and I had been officially estranged for three years, and he hadn't been a parent to me since I was seven.

After so many years of my father and me co-existing within the complicated heartache, disappointment, and abandonment that had been my childhood, I didn't know if there was the same chance of forgiveness with him. Or if I even really wanted it to happen. Even if he was sick.

It was hypocritical, yes. But with everything going on with Nate, thinking through my issues with my father was too much. Dealing with the news of his illness would only serve as a distraction from my focus on Nate. And nothing, no one, was going to take me away from being dedicated to making my son better as quickly as possible.

38

When I reached Nate's floor, I slowed my pace as I walked by the paper garbage directly outside the nurses' station, and peeked inside to see if my iPhone was still there.

It was gone.

“Is this what you're looking for?” a voice piped up from the office behind the nurses' desk. “I figured you'd return for it.”

I snapped my head up, embarrassed to be caught looking in the garbage, and was greeted by Addy waving my phone.

“I, uh, I guess I lost it …”

“No need to explain. I saved it for you. You know, just in case you wanted it back.” Addy winked as she handed my phone to me.

“Thanks. I guess my actions were a little excessive,” I said. I could feel the heat of embarrassment rush to my cheeks. Obviously, I would need my phone. If not for work, for keeping in touch with close friends and family to update them on Nate.

“You seem like a busy lady. Your phone hasn't stopped going off since I retrieved it. Anyone I can call for you?”

“Er … no, thanks. It's okay. I can call them.”

Addy was about to respond but was cut off by a man in the room across from us. He was wailing loudly, and escalating in volume with each word he said. Except for his deep voice, he sounded like a toddler who was throwing a temper tantrum.

Addy recognized the overwhelmed look in my eyes as the screaming continued. “Here, Ashley, why don't you come back to our office and have a seat. We can sit and chat for a bit. Nate's not going to wake up for a long while. I expect him to sleep until at least dinner.”

I smiled gratefully and followed the nurse into the office.

“What about Nate's school? Have you called to let them know he won't be in today?” Addy asked.

“Damn it! Of course … Nate's school. It's Tuesday. Where's my head?”

“Spinning. And that's normal. You're not thinking straight right now, but not many people would be. Don't worry about the school … you can call them in a bit. I just didn't want you to forget.”

“What should I tell them? I have no idea what to say to people about all of this.” I could hear the panic lining my voice as I said the words out loud.

“Why don't you just say that Nate's sick and you don't expect him to be in for a few days? It's all true, and it buys you some time to process all of this.”

I nodded, thinking through what I was going to tell everyone. How could I begin to admit my son was in a psych ward? That he was most likely mentally ill, and we had no idea when, or if, he would get better?

I shuddered at the thought of the stigma and continual bullying that was going to attach itself to my son. The black mark that had been cast on so many people living with a disease that was no fault of their own had created a cruel world for them to live in. I couldn't stand the thought of the nastiness my son would endure from both kids and adults alike who had no idea that he was just a sweet little boy who, underneath everything else, had a heart of gold.

“Ashley?” Addy interrupted my thoughts. “I was asking about your work. What do you do?”

“Me? Oh, uh, I head up the creative department at an advertising agency here in Toronto.”

“Sounds like a big job.”

“Yeah. It is. I love it, but it's a ton of work.”

“And what about your husband? Where does he work?”

“He stays at home with the kids. He has for several years now. It's one of the ways we make it work.”

Addy nodded her head, showing she understood. “My husband and I both work shift work. But I've gone down to part-time so we can be more flexible with our kids' schedules. You do what you have to do for your kids.”

Her last sentence struck me hard. I knew she was talking about more than just schedules.

“Oh crap. What am I going to tell my work? I can't go back now, and so many of them won't understand. Very few people have kids in my office,” I said out loud, suddenly anxious about managing my career on top of everything that was going on. “And what's going to happen? How long will I need to be here? How am I going to
work
?”

“Let's just take it one day at a time. For now, tell your work the same thing you're telling Nate's school. Your son is sick, and you need to be with him for a few days. That's it.”

“They're going to know … Nate, he was missing all night. Tons of people were trying to find him. They know he's in the hospital.”

“So tell them he's in the hospital. You don't need to go into details. And if they ask what's wrong and you're not sure what to tell them … or when … keep it simple for now. Just tell him that Nate has to get some tests, and you're waiting for the results. People don't need to know the whole story. And if they speculate, well, then they speculate. You can't control that. With all you're focused on, I'd say it's the thing that matters least.”

I nodded, absorbing what Addy was saying. She was right, of course, and it helped to hear it.

“Thanks. I appreciate you talking me through this. If you'll excuse me, I have to make those calls. Then I'd like to get back to my husband and son.”

“Of course. I'll leave you alone so you can have some privacy. In fact, I'll go check on Nate and see how he's doing.” Addy rose from her chair and patted my back. Just like the caring nurse from the ER had done. It was a simple gesture, but it made me feel better. It reminded me of my own sweet mother, who used to care for me so tenderly.

I called Nate's school and sent emails to Jack, Ben, and Brad. Just as Addy had suggested, I kept it simple and told them I'd be away for a bit, taking care of my son. I instructed Ben to take my place and work with Jack and Emily to figure out what meetings he needed to be in.

Instantly, I got an email back from Brad. I held my breath, preparing myself for the questions about Nate's disappearance.

Instead, his response was gracious and caring.

We're thinking of you and your family, Ashley. You take care of them, and we'll take care of the rest here in New York. ~Brad

When I read his reply, I remembered that I hadn't shared any details of Nate's disappearance with Brad. He knew nothing more than that I had needed to leave New York. And he didn't ask any questions, for which I was extremely appreciative.

Ben's response was similar, saying that he'd rise to the occasion and send emergency emails only.

Unfortunately, Jack's response wasn't as considerate or understanding. I could see straight through the rhetoric.

What's going on, Carty? Sorry to hear you're going through whatever it is. Doesn't sound fun. Let us know if we can help in any way. And take the time you need, but remember it's busy here and we'll need you back soon. Ben will do for now, but he's no you. And we need YOU. ~JP

“Not as much as Nate needs me …” I muttered out loud. Without my job, we'd have no income. Or drug plan, which I was sure we were going to need.

Despite the temptation to reply right away, I decided to ignore Jack's email until the following morning, and return to my son. Addy's words had etched a spot in my memory, and I remembered her advice of taking it one day at a time.

So Jack could wait for a day. It was my son who needed me most.