Ride the Waves

I put the last of my dishes in the cupboard and hang up my dish towel. I lean back against the counter and glance at the calendar. February 20, 2007, where had … The phone rings. “Hello.” “Mrs. Van Dyke?” “Yes.” “My name is Anissa. I am with the Donor Alliance. I called to let you know that your husband, Chuck’s donation of bone grafts will return mobility to up to 50 people.” I don’t think, I react, my fisted right hand, shoots above my head, and my right leg, bent at the knee comes parallel to my left knee, I yell: “Yes! That’s what I call flipping the bird to ALS”. In addition to donating bone grafts, his corneas were donated to the Rocky Mountain Lions Eye Bank. One was transplantable. A 71-year-old man in Crowley, Colorado, can see because of Chuck. It was a struggle for me to write that essay. I would write and then I would cry. I shared my struggle to write the essay with my professor and she suggested I choose a different topic. But I couldn’t. I needed to write about ALS and Chuck’s death. When I finally finished the essay and read it to the class, the response from my fellow students was resoundingly positive. Each person in the class told me I had done a wonderful job of writing. I have often thought about sending that essay to either Guide Posts or Reader’s Digest. Perhaps someday I will. I wrote that essay 11 years ago. A lot has transpired in those 11 years. I learned to be a widow. I restructured my life. It was not an easy journey. After completing the creative writing class, I lost my focus. I felt lost and alone, I was adrift with only my grief. One day Linda, the massage therapist from hospice came to visit. Linda was now my massage therapist. We were becoming good friends. As we talked I began to sob. I couldn’t stop sobbing so Linda took me to Lutheran Hospital for an evaluation. Linda is not only a massage therapist; she is also a registered nurse. She thought perhaps some drugs for depression might be in order. At that time, I was still a smoker. Linda sat with me at the ER as long as she could, but she finally had to leave. I had been waiting to be seen for over an hour. I was getting restless as my nicotine level was dropping. After two hours of waiting, I still had not been seen and I was “jonesing” for a cigarette. I was no longer crying; I was mad and determined to go smoke. I got the attention of a nurse. “Hey bring me my clothes. I’m going home.” “You haven’t been evaluated yet,” she responded. “You’ve had long enough. You can’t hold me. I checked myself in and I can check myself out at my discretion. You haven’t got a 72 hour hold on me so I am free to go. Now get me my clothes or I swear I’ll walk out of here in this hospital gown and these paper slippers.” “You really should be evaluated and the psychiatrist is tied up right now.” “Look lady, I don’t need to be evaluated by a psychiatrist. Any competent master’s level therapist can evaluate me for a 72 hour hold. Hell, I’m certified to do 72 hour holdds. So you’ve got 5 minutes to get someone here or I’m walking out with or without my clothes. Do I make myself clear?” My tone brooked no disagreement. In less than 5 minutes a woman came to the cubical where I was seated. She was carrying my belongings. “Here, get dressed. Then I’m taking you outside for a cigarette. I’m not talking to you or evaluating you until after you’ve smoked.” “You’re a very wise woman,” I said as I took my belongings. I dumped the bag on the bed and shucked off the hospital gown. I pulled on my jeans, my bra, my shirt and my shoes and socks. I grabbed my purse. “Ok, let’s go”. We went outside. As soon as I was away from the doors, I lit up. That first drag was absolute heaven. Anyone who has ever been addicted to nicotine or any other drug knows what I mean. That first hit of the drug after starting into withdrawal is an immediate relief. I smoked that cigarette and then lit up another. The woman stood there saying nothing. “Let’s get this done,” I said as I put out my second cigarette. She nodded and we went inside and back to the cubical. I plopped down on the bed. She stood at the foot of the bed. “So what’s going on,” she enquired. “My husband died and I gotta get a life,” I responded. She leaned towards and extended a finger so it was pointing right at my nose. Her face was very close to mine. “You … got… a … life. You got it the moment your husband took his last breath. It’s up to you to decide what to do with that life.” Well damn. She sounds just like me. I can hear those words coming out of my mouth. She’s my kind of therapist. “Yeah, you’re right. Guess I better pull it together and figure out what I am going to do.” “You got any friends?” “Of course I do.” “Good, I’m going to get you a phone and sit right here with you until you find someone to come stay with you for 4 or 5 days. You don’t need to be locked up. You need to learn to live in your new world.” saying that, she walked off. In a few minutes she returned with a phone. I had already decided to call my friend, Jan. She was single with no children; no pets and she loved Odin and Nala. I knew she would come. I called her and she agreed. She spoke with the therapist. Then I told her I would be outside the emergency room doors. The therapist nodded, “Let’s get you out of here so you can keep your nicotine level up.” I just grinned. Jan is a certified public accountant. She worked for an accounting firm only 4 miles from my home. I went to the firm one day to meet her for lunch. She was tied up, so I waited in the lobby. “Hi, I’m Mr. Adducci. May I help you?” “I’m waiting for Jan. We’re going to lunch. She’s with a client, so I’m waiting until she’s done.” “Well, come on in to my office. We can talk while you wait.” I followed him into his office. As we talked, he elicited the information that I had an under graduate degree in accounting and extensive training in QuickBooks. By the time Jan was ready for lunch, I had decided to get incorporated as In Your Office Services and start doing bookkeeping on QuickBooks. I would go into clients’ offices and do their bookkeeping on their computers. Mr. Adducci had at least one client who could use this service. Thus, I was launched on a new career. Having a focus helped a lot. I, also, decided to explore the metaphysical side of life. I found a class called “Psychic Development”. It was a 9 month introductory class in working with psychic energy, learning to read energy and understanding the meaning of the Tarot. I learned about Reiki and began taking Reiki classes, eventually becoming a Reiki Master/Teacher. I took Karuna Healing and again became a Master/Teacher. Both Reiki and Karuna are forms of energy healing. I learned to read Tarot cards, and to read the Runes. I began reading Tarot at a local bookstore. The money I made from doing bookkeeping funded my adventures into the metaphysical world. It took about 4 years, but eventually I was earning money from teaching Reiki and Karuna classes, giving Reiki/Karuna treatments and reading Tarot cards. I wrote and taught a class called Unleashing the Goddess Within. I wrote a class about Native American goddesses called Journey with the Goddess. I reinvented myself and successfully turned my life around. In 2016, I sold the house I had occupied for 26 years and moved a little over 1300 miles to Puyallup, Washington. Since moving to Washington, I have worked to establish a metaphysical practice. I teach Reiki, give Reiki/Karuna treatments, and am teaching Journey with the Goddess, the class I wrote about Native American goddesses. I completed this book. Who knows, may someday I’ll write another book.