HIDDEN TRUTHS REVEALED - PART 14

Back to my hometown. Back to the place Carl and I started our lives together. Back to Jonathan’s place of birth. As we near the city, traces of a recent March snowfall still covered some areas of the ground. It had been 12 years since we left (Jonathan was 3). What a change. Albuquerque was already considered the biggest metropolis in the state but the tiny northwest side of town was now a city all its own. Came to town with a full blown cold (haven’t had one since). Got some spicy chicken soup from a Greek restaurant. A miracle cure--it literally burned the cold right out of me.

The first order of business was to enroll Jonathan back into school. Grew up on the NE side and thought it would be great if Jonathan attended my high school alma mater and found an apartment in the same school zone. What a weird feeling walking on campus after 28 years. Had played tennis on the outside courts many times since graduating but never had stepped inside the compound. Don’t think Jonathan was all that thrilled but there was a twinge of excitement for me while entering the administrative office. Pulled out his records and all the information required for enrollment and was dumbfounded when told that the three months of home school made Jonathan’s first semester of high school in California null and void. In the opinion of the New Mexico Department of Education, Jonathan was still considered an 8th grade student and could not enroll in the Albuquerque Public School system. All the arguments in the world weren’t going to change the results. They gave me some phone numbers to call to make arrangements for alternative types of schooling. What a fiasco! Doubt we could have screwed up life more if we had planned it.

We were fortunate to find the first technology-based charter school of its kind in New Mexico that just opened up and even in close proximity to home. This school focused on individual needs, used computers as the main tool for instruction, and was certified as a college preparatory institute. At least the education problems seemed to be resolved for the moment. Jonathan could get credit for work study so he got a job as a waiter with a Marriott retirement facility just up the street from our apartment complex.

Saw an advertisement in the classified section regarding manager teams for self-storage facilities. Replied, interviewed, and Carl and I were the onsite management team for the Storage USA facility just ½ mile from where I grew up and across the street from Jonathan’s new school. Everything seemed to be falling into place. Our living quarters above the office had a huge kitchen with lots of cabinet space with a view of the city lights on one side and a view of the Sandia Mountains on the other. The living room was even big enough to hold a brand new pool table, not my choice, but soon learned to love playing. All we had to do was walk down the stairs to the office (once you do that or get a job within walking distance, nothing else compares). Didn’t mind the job and were given somewhat autonomy. But there must be something about first days on the job for me. Had a run in with one of the tenants. Part of the job involves collecting rent and if payments aren’t made--foreclosure process is followed. No phone number for the tenant but found a number in his file for a contact person. Called and left a message. The tenant called our District Manager (Mike) and wanted me fired. The history of this tenant--always late with payment to the point where his storage unit will be auctioned off. Mike appeased this “gentleman.” I met the guy and learned how to handle him. He was a timebomb ready to snap. Yep, this tenant was going to be a literal pain in the butt! Also became the self-storage police and had a tenant evicted for running a business in his unit which was against company policy. (He only had been doing it for two years but no one seemed to care until yours truly.)

Carl dealt with the maintenance and sales aspect of the position, and I pretty much ran the office. We made a great team and always considered Carl the best at dealing with people, but never did give myself much credit for anything. Mike came into the office to do his monthly observation and commented about one of Carl’s telephone conversations with a potential customer. Mike was amazed and said it sounded as if Carl was talking to his best friend.

Although living just across the street from school, it was like pulling teeth trying to get Jonathan to be on time. He was finding it difficult to even go and would feign sickness quite often. (It’s funny how he recovered after school was over and well enough to go to work. Although there was a basketball team, Jonathan hated to play with a "bunch of losers" so soon ended his association. Luckily the administrative staff was supportive in our attempts to want Jonathan in school and made him sign a contract--either buckle down or there was the door.

One of the tenants brought a couple of lab pups into the office. So adorable and decided to go to the facility in the mountain area that bred these gorgeous creatures. In the past had looked at animal shelters but never found the right one. Learned from a PBS program the proper technique of choosing the right one--lie on back and if doesn’t squirm (the dog, not the potential owner); raise your hand and if doesn’t flinch. There were several to pick from and chose the cutest male white lab. Went to the pet store and bought all the paraphernalia that goes with the territory. It was around Christmas time so Jonathan bought a little red doggie hat to mark the occasion. Decided a classy name for a classy canine would be appropriate so we chose Dante. The first day let Dante loose inside to roam. He stopped by the kitchen chair--SQUAT… Then made his way underneath the pool table--SQUAT. That night Dante whined and whined and whined. The crate was a mess--newspapers torn up and alleviation throughout. Cleaned the crate and decided to put Dante down into the office hallway but still could hear the whining. I sat with him for a while and decided to try the same technique as used for babies--leave alone and let them cry themselves to sleep. Still couldn’t sleep so went back downstairs. The crate was a mess again so decided to release the prisoner and let him roam the hallway the rest of the night and would deal with the mess in the morning. I didn’t have the patience of Job and after a few nights of this just couldn’t handle it anymore (had enough on my plate) and knew I would be the one who would end up doing all the work anyway. So Carl had the honors of returning Dante. It was a tearful goodbye.

A majority of companies offer counseling benefit assistance to employees and their families. Having difficulties with Jonathan and decided to get therapy as a family and one on one. Discussed my history of depression and eating disorders. The doc believed it to be a chemical imbalance and could prescribe some antidepressants. Ain’t gonna happen and didn’t want it changing my metabolism so for now chose to just use talk therapy. Completed our limited sessions and she would continue to “treat” me for a price or could recommend some other therapists. Should come as no surprise that I chose not to continue.

Came back to the church I knew so well but it was no longer the same. There was a split during our 12-year absence and the majority of the members scattered and not just to other churches of Christ. Just glad I wasn’t there to see it transpire. Although tried to go regularly at least on Sunday morning, attendance was somewhat sporadic. Periodically Carl, Jonathan, and I had to work or the aftermath of Carl’s insulin reactions.

The two-year looming dread of kidney failure was now a reality and dialysis was a necessity. In preparation took Carl to the hospital every week to receive either blood transfusions or iron shots. Acquired all the pertinent information regarding dialysis procedures to be done and choices to make and getting on the transplant list (seem to recall it was a seven-year wait). Carl would get extremely cold and stayed in the office standing in the sun a majority of the days. My brother and sister-in-law came for a visit and had front row seats to one of Carl’s reactions and acknowledged their new found appreciation for what I had endured over the last 17 years. Very scary for the first-time observer.

Carl hated his plight more and more each week. The poking and prodding and hours lying on a bed receiving numerous pints of anonymous donors’ blood through an IV. One of the final procedures to be done was a echocardiogram or in layman’s terms, heart echo. The doctor wanted to notate any fluid build up around the area. It was the end of the week, and Carl didn’t want to go so it was rescheduled for Monday afternoon.

Carl became exceedingly tired and seemed to walk at a snail’s pace one Sunday afternoon. After church got Carl to rest while Jonathan and I went downstairs to the office. We heard a thud and ran upstairs. Carl had become light headed and fell out of his chair but seemed all right.

Started out as a typical Monday morning--exercising, getting ready for work, and fixing breakfast. Carl was sluggish and it took Jonathan’s prodding to get him to come to the table. My concentration of pouring the OJ was interrupted by Jonathan’s shouts of “Dad!” Carl’s head was slumped backwards; eyes affixed. Told Jonathan to call 9-1-1 as I pulled Carl down to the floor. The paramedics came and transported him to the ER, and we followed shortly thereafter.

It was a long wait and the doctors filed in and out of the room numerous times. Carl’s heart had stopped five times and was comatose (there was a lot of fluid around the heart). That night the neurologist advised that if Carl were to come out of the coma, he would be in a vegetative state. There was no hope. In the beginning of the year one of our tenants who was a lawyer composed living wills for us. It had never occurred to me it would be used so soon in our lives. Carl’s sister, Donna, flew out, Mom and Dad drove down, and many friends came from the church. They were my lifeline. Jonathan felt uncomfortable in the hospital environment and was quite stoic throughout the entire incident. The doctors tried dialysis to see if there would be any improvement but no luck. After a few days life support was disconnected and Carl died within 15 minutes with Donna and me in the room holding on to each other. Kissed Carl goodbye and walked out of the hospital with legs wobbling like bowls of strawberry jello and teeth chattering as if stuck in the Alaskan snow. Sorrow and heartache as never experienced.

A member of the church employed at one of the main mortuaries in town made sure all arrangements were done as requested. Decided on cremation and a memorial service at the church. Mom always thought it would be more difficult having a funeral at church instead of the funeral home, but our lives together started here; it made sense that it should end here as well. Family and friends came to pay their respects, even several teens from the youth group came in support of Jonathan. Most people didn’t know about Carl’s artistic side and received many favorable comments about the drawings we displayed out in the foyer along with some other memorabilia. Odies flew in to sing solo (as he did at our wedding), but he felt odd doing it at a funeral so lead the audience in a few songs instead.

I am a solver and try to find reasons for why things happen in my life, whether right or wrong; otherwise, nothing seems to make sense. Think it has helped me to keep going. Doubt it was a coincidence that we returned to the place I knew the best surrounded by life-long friends who would be my biggest support group. Some of those individuals who came to the memorial service were former members who hadn’t stepped foot inside that building since the split and those who could not bring themselves to go back personally dropped by to see me. Even old time friends who had lost touch for years became reacquainted.

There was a meeting for all the management teams in New Mexico the day before Carl died. Obviously, I was not in attendance, but Mike told me the room was full of tears. Thought I was going to lose my job because Carl and I were hired as a team (as was done at the retirement facility except under different circumstances). Mike and someone from the corporate office came by to assure me that my position was secure and to take as much time as needed. Worked one more month and resigned. Living and working in the same place did have one drawback--no daily break from the memories.

[You can read my blog of 2/24/07, “Death Call” for a more extensive look at the last few months of Carl’s life.]

Packed up and returned to the place Jonathan knew the best--Austin. Moved in with my parents, and Jonathan could go to the high school a few blocks up the street. Went to California to scatter Carl’s ashes in the ocean. Since Don (my brother) and Donna (Carl’s sister) lived in California, my parents felt it a good idea to relocate and after some searching, it was Murrieta or Oceanside. Mom and Jonathan wanted Murrieta (Mom liked the concept of a brand new house). Dad and I wanted Oceanside. (There was nothing in Murrieta.) The ocean won out. My parents put their house up for sale and bought one in Oceanside where Jonathan would be attending the same high school he started in the 9th grade. (I thought that would be easier for him; however, should have listened to my son--he wanted something new, but thought I knew better. And just think if we had chosen Murrieta--would now be in closer proximity to a certain family, but then again, it’s doubtful we ever would have moved to Long Beach and never would have met them in the first place.)

What a whirlwind! Oh, by the way, the original owners of the house in Oceanside--Tony Hawk’s parents.

(to be continued)