Dan Festa - Through the Eyes of the Heart: Stories of Love and Loss

Through the Eyes of the Heart

Stories of Love and Loss

Dan Festa

Chapter

R ichard was only when he was first diagnosed with leukemia. The year was 1968 , a time of great turmoil in the Deep South as people began to live with the Civil Rights Act of 1964 . Why that bears any relevance is that I began working in the hospital in because of a strike which was going on in Charleston at the time. It was during that experience that I first met Richard.

I had begun my second year in college and needed a way to fund my education, so when the hospital was desperately looking for able bodies to work during the strike, I seized the opportunity. I never dreamed at age that I would be caring for someone who was two years younger than meand dying!

I must tell you that when I began working as a nursing assistant I didnt know beans about what I was doing. Id never taken a blood pressure or read a thermometer, and I certainly didnt know how to make a bed or bathe someone. My patients truly were my teachers, along with a host of tolerant and incredibly patient staff members, aides, nurses, medical students, and physicians alike.

I remember Richards mother and father hovering around Richards bed in a four-bed male ward. They both appeared to have eyes glazed with gossamer veils, enabling them to focus all of their attention on their frail son and blocking out any other distractions in the room.

Following a blood transfusion or two, Richard would rally and seem like any other now -year-old boy with hopes and dreams of a future beyond the existence of a hospital bed. But several days later, as Richards red blood cells were consumed by his body, Richard was back to where he was prior to the transfusions.

I came and went between school and work with a rich and full social life. My days were punctuated with studying and learning new factors about life and living; while Richard simply struggled to breathe and exist from one moment to the next. His parents began to exhibit a dazed look about them as it became increasingly clear that Richards disease was winning the battle to claim his very young life. They looked less and less able to cope as the sands of time slipped quickly through their hands and Richards.

Because his parents hovered over him, I rarely ever had the opportunity to talk just to Richard. His parents, if present, always wanted to keep the conversation light. They were attempting to buoy Richards spirits by acting as if nothing was wrong, maintaining the polite Southern illusion of fine thank you, and you? In reality, I think they were trying to buoy their own spirits by acting as though all was fine.

I remember one evening when Richard, in anger and frustration, snatched the veil from his parents eyes when he screamed at them that he was dying and would not be around long enough to enjoy any of the insane ideas about which they daily blithered. Richard could read the signs that he was dying. He had sores all over his body from the lack of platelets and red blood cells. He was a mere shell of the young man Im sure he once was before the ravages of disease destroyed his body.

Richards fatigue was etched on his face and mirrored the faces of his parents, who were walking ghosts moving through the shadows of daily living. I can remember a meeting between Richards parents and the medical staff, in hushed tones voicing decisions to discontinue treatment as Richard was not in remission and would die soon anyway. I remember Richards father in particular very stoically trying to hold himself afloat in a sea of denial as the betrayal of a lonely tear and the quiver of his lips betrayed his internal struggles and utter devastation as he tried to pull himself together to face Richard. Richards mom simply appeared deflated, like a balloon with a steady leak and the air slowly escaping with no means of reclaiming the loss.

For Richard there would be no code blue, no heroic efforts, simply the hope that he would peacefully slip away...

Death under many circumstances is not pretty, and Richards was no different. Because he had no platelets and was bleeding uncontrollably, he was bleeding from every orifice, and attempts to keep him clean and in fresh sheets were an ongoing challenge. Richard died during the night with the moonlight streaming in upon his bed as his parents, sitting in chairs, slept bent over his bed. A quiet tribute to what might have been.

Chapter

S tories that usually are woven into the fabric of our lives are full of both humor and pathos; Sammies is one of those. Over the years I have probably written and rewritten this story in my mind hundreds of times.

Laura and I married relatively young; she was and I was . For those at that age it is difficult to find a place to fit in because youre in that already but not yet place of development; while technically an adult, you just dont seem to mesh into the adult world quite yet. Fortunately for us there was a group at our church which allowed us in, even though we were the youngest in the organization; it was known as the Young Scots. One of the older couples who were a part of that group was Grace and Steve.

Grace taught school at one of the local Hebrew schools, and Steve was an accountant with one of the local hospitals. Grace had a remarkable sense of humor; Steve was always more of a background presence as the straight man to Grace. They had moved to Charleston from Alabama and brought with them their toe-headed -year-old by the name of Sammie.

Grace and Steve had married at a later age and decided, prior to Sammies birth, that Grace would have her tubes tied because she really did not wish to go through another pregnancy; Sammie was to be a signed and numbered edition. Truly a one of a kind!

Sammie was one of those cute little kids: old people yearned to pinch his cheeks, and the rest of us just wanted to tousle his hair. Sammie was charming; probably manipulative with his charms but none the less cute as a button. Sammie began preschool at age and Im sure charmed the socks off his teachers while simultaneously giving them a real run for their money.

Like most -year-olds, Sammie was fascinated with goldfish and pestered Steve and Grace into getting him one for his birthday, bowl and all. One morning after Sammie left to go to preschool, Grace noted that Rudolph the goldfish was floating belly up in his bowl.

Well Grace, knowing that Sammie would be wondering about Rudolph when she picked him up from preschool, fabricated this elaborate story to tell Sammie. So on the ride home from preschool, Grace shared her elaborate story with Sammie about how Rudolph had been lonely and wanted desperately to go and swim with the other fish in the ocean. Sammie, in all of his childhood innocence, flashed a look like, really, youre thinking Im buying this truckload of...

Sammie looked with horror at Grace and announced, So Rudolph died and you flushed him, huh?

As I heard the story recounted, Im sure Grace told me she just about ran off the Cooper River Bridge.

Several months later on a Saturday morning, Grace and Steve decided to go furniture shopping; not exactly a -year-olds dream trip. They went out Savannah Highway to Thems Furniture Store, having been told that it had a great selection of furniture. As they wandered around in the store for a couple of hours, Sammie became increasingly agitated, so finally Steve took his son to the front parking lot so Sammie could run around and play.