There are more heart attacks on Monday than on any other day of the week, at least according to the National Institutes for Health. MSN says: "Research shows conclusively that the most common day for heart attacks is Monday. Statistics spike on Monday mornings, in particular, since heart attacks occur between 4 a.m. and 10 a.m. more than any other six-hour period."
I can understand why. Groan... Gees. five a.m. comes pretty darned early and after two great days of just being a human being, returning to work takes discipline, even if it might eventually turn out to be interesting work, and maybe even especially fulfilling as the week wears on, and EVEN if it's HUGO and NOT ME going to work!
I opened one eye, blinked, then willed myself to get up and eat breakfast with Hugo. At 5:30 a.m. we piled in the SUV and drove over to Hugo's hospital arriving before six. Hugo left me after a peck on the nose, and it was some compensation knowing he'd be ready to leave work at three that afternoon and our life together could continue.
At home again, I began to think about all that would need to be done to get ready for bringing the boys home from the hospital. So! They were 11 and 12 years old! No matter. They were coming home from the hospital just as if they'd only been born this week. They'd be OUR boys coming home to OUR HOUSE for the very first time.
Humm? Let me see... I went upstairs and looked around at things up there like I hadn't done for a very long time; well, really never had I done that before because I'd never used all that space before. And NOW, however, it was likely to become a very busy place indeed.
Two bedrooms across the hall from one another were best suited for the boys because they were both large. They had basic bedroom furniture in them, but-- oh, my-- didn't look very much like places kids lived... "Humm? What's missing?" I asked myself.
"Well, for one thing, the walls needed lively colors and some new draperies with things on them-- like maybe racecars or Spanish Galleons or space craft and planets and asteroids. I don't know... Maybe I should look on the internet for some home decoration ideas for pre-teen boys?" I thought.
The carpet would have to do-- changing it would involve too much. Light beige in color, it certainly would be trampled like a well-worn lawn, if my estimate of what two boys would do to it were anywhere near realistic. I thought that area rugs and runners, again with 'things' on them, probably ought to be put down to deal with the heaviest traffic lanes.
And the walls needed posters-- of 'things.' Until each boy decided on the particular 'things' that he wanted, I'd supply some generic ones that would add more color and life to the place.
Fortunately both rooms had their own full bathrooms, and the balconies and windows in both rooms let in a lot of sunlight. These would be super places for these guys... bright, cheerful, private, yet close together for company when they wanted it...
OK. So I think I'll repaint both rooms too, maybe one a bright sky blue and the other a bright sea turquoise. I made a few notes and left.
Back downstairs I realized that Hugo and I could use a few new things too, just to make life comfy. "How bout some new fluffy white towels, and maybe two new pillows and a comforter for the bed," I thought. "And, you know, a bright area rug would add a little zest to our world too... Should it have 'things' on it? Humm?" I thought, "How bout some porn models with erections on the area rugs?" Don't think I've ever seen anything like that in the stores... not even up in Los Angeles either... Okay. So I'm gettin a little carried away with my own permission to liven up our lives in our new home. Besides, we couldn't have that sort of stuff around the boys," I reminded my randy side...
At this point I was ready to jump in the SUV and head off to Home Depot and Bed, Bath, & Beyond. There were still a few hours before I could pick up Hugo.
I got all of my shopping done and still pulled up in the parking lot of Hugo's hospital at ten minutes before three. In just minutes he came running out and jumped in the shotgun seat. I leaned over and got myself a kiss more satisfying than the abbreviated smooches Hugo kept on tap for routine greetings. After all it had been all day since I'd seen him. Our finally being together today, I felt, deserved a more heartfelt recognition than I feared Hugo would think.
When I finished and let Hugo go, he reached across the console and went after my penis... (Here we go again, but this time I was somewhat more in the mood to have my penis purloined.)
Then he moved his hand up to my stomach and started rubbing it... Humm? Suddenly I got the distinct impression he was more in the mood for mastication than for masturbation; so I said in sound, "Coco's?"
Hugo shook his head vigorously in the affirmative and smiled broadly...
Okay, so the sex would have to wait; I chose the Coco's nearest to the boys' hospital.
We took up residence in our usual booth and enjoyed the immediate attention of both the hostess and an attractive waiter. Much to my delight Hugo was more interested in the menu than in the hired help; so in no time we were alone just looking at each other.
I felt like I'd been with Hugo forever... How was it that actually we'd only known each other for 20 weeks or so. And the boys, I felt as if we'd always had them to worry about. I suppose that's just life's way of making the present more important than anything in the past.
Hugo reached into the pocket of his baggy fatigue jacket and pulled out a rather dingy looking folded paper. He handed it to me, opening it as he pushed it across the table.
I looked down and saw that there were two or three pages in his handwriting.
"Dear Doctor Kavanaugh,
I have been thinking about your offer to treat my deafness. I have not written before now because I have been a little scared of such a serious operation. My doctor and I have discussed it, and he believes that it would be a risk worth taking, because it might make me hear again, and it can't really make me worse.
There are a lot of questions that I have.
-
Would I have to come to Ireland or could you come to San Diego? My 11-year old brother just had a serious operation and isn't out of the hospital, and I need to be here to take care of him as much as I can when he gets out.
-
How much money would I have to pay you? My income is small, and I can't afford even regular medical care; so I might not be able to do this if I need to pay more money than I can raise.
-
When do you want to do it? And how long would I have to take off from work? I do have someone who will help me, but he cannot do things unlimited.
-
If you operate on me, I am thinking that I won't hear immediately. Like, I'd have to wait for the cells to grow, is that right? So, how long would it take for the cells to grow? About?
-
If they grow and I can hear would that be permanent, or would the cells die sometime and leave me deaf again?
I am sorry that I didn't write to you sooner. I hope that this works out. You can write to me at my new address (put our address here).
Hugo Ramirez
I let the papers drop to the table while still holding on to them, and I looked up to see Hugo looking at me expectantly.
Putting Hugo's letter aside I reached for his pen and wrote on the pad he had put before us: "I think this letter is perfect. Do you want me to type it and print it on the computer back at the house?" I wrote.
Hugo looked relieved with my opinion of his letter. He wrote, "Oh, thank you, Kev. I'm glad you think it's okay. I'd really appreciate if you typed it out for me, and maybe fix an envelope too?"
"Of course," I wrote.
"And if you don't mind, I'd really like to send it off right away. Do I use the regular post office to send the letter to Ireland-- like do I need Irish stamps?" He wrote.
And I replied, "Hugo, it's just like writing to Mexico or any other country. Use U.S. stamps and the U.S. Postal Service."
"I've never written to Mexico," Hugo admitted. "My father wrote to me one time, but he hasn't done that in years. I don't know his address; so I never wrote back."
"Oh, my goodness, Hugo. We ought to look into that.. if you want to.." I added. And it dawned on me how I seemed to have a compulsion to run Hugo's life. "WHERE does that come from," I wondered.
"Yeah! But right now I want to get this operation done. I'm ready to face it; so I'd better do it while I'm in the mood," Hugo confided realistically.
"I think you're being wise, Hugo. I'm glad you feel like taking Dr. Kavanaugh and his Research Team's stem cell treatment."
"Well, I don't really understand what makes the cells grow and fill in my broken nerve, but if it works, it'll make me really happy," Hugo wrote.
"But, Hugo, have you thought about maybe the cells might not grow and correct your problem, and you wouldn't get your hearing back?"
"Yeah, I thought about that a lot... That worries me the most really. Oh, no, but I won't let myself think too much, or I won't do it," Hugo wrote.
"Just as long as you think you can handle it if no improvement develops... I want you to understand that FOR ME, Hugo: I love you... You don't have to hear for me to love you... And I don't ever want to be away from you, whether you can hear or can't hear. I just want you to remember that." I wrote very clearly and then looked at him in the eye as he read it and as he looked up at me after reading it.
I mouthed the words, "I love you so much, Hugo!"
Hugo reached across the table and took my hands in his own large hands. Then he leaned a rather great distance across the table and kissed me on the lips, lingering with the kiss, in the middle of the restaurant.
In a moment he settled back into his seat and continued holding my hands and looking into my eyes.
This was the moment when I knew we shared a connection in eternity that would always be there, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, and God knew this too.
The young man who was our waiter approached the table carrying a huge round tray chocked with dishes which were looking and smelling wonderful. Hugo and I cleared a space for the waiter to use, but we continued to hold one another in our gazes.
At the boys' hospital, Hugo jumped out of the SUV right after I cut the engine. It was only a little before six, but quite dark already. Winter was certainly on its way. He waited for me as if he realized for the first time that I was there too. This guy has amazing concentration, certainly a function of the fact that he lives in the world of silence and is not beholden to the outside world unless he wished to be. He would often have to be roused from his reveries, not that he was experiencing any deficits of attention; he just needed to be reminded to re-join those of us around him in the world of sound.
Seventh Floor.... Wait. Wait. Wait... (Fuck that elevator...) "Creeeeak." opens the door.... finally....
Entering the ward we found ourselves right in the middle of chow time. Nurses and orderlies were scurrying about like flight attendants preparing the patrons for their in-flight meals.
We headed toward the boys' beds only to see both Jilder and Nicky occupying Jilder's bed on the far end, both waiting like Labrador retrievers-- one red haired and one black haired-- for dinner to arrive. It was so amusing. How could such handfuls be so endearing when they were immobile and no threat to civilization or themselves?
They both noticed our arrival at the same time.
"Hi, Hugo. Hi, Kevin." they called out loudly...
Nicky spoke up first, "Look! The nurse said we can have supper together. We've been really good."
"I've been letting Nicky use my PSP; so he can get to level III too," Jilder volunteered.
I replied even before we'd docked in the vicinity of the bed, "It's sure good to see you two have been following the rules and made peace with the nurse. I know that makes everybody, including Dr. Gilmer, happy."
"Yeah." Jilder spoke up, "We've been really good."
Hugo went over to both and gave each one a hug, and both of the boys gave him a big, juicy kiss on the face in return. Hugo began writing on his pad which he thrust in front of whichever one saw it first, "How are you feeling? Did you both have pain pills today?"
Both boys wagged their heads yes but Jilder held up one finger and mouthed the words, "Only One, Hugo."
Hugo wanted to be sure he understood them; so he also held up his hand with one finger extended. "One?" he spoke.
Both boys shook their heads up and down a second time.
"You see, guys, Hugo wants you to have pills when you need them, but he knows that the pills can be bad if you use them too much. We'll keep talking to Dr. Gilmer to be sure you are not getting too many pills," I explained again. The boys needed to understand Hugo's concern, and just why he was concerned.
For me, I thought it was highly responsible for us to be showing the boys right from the get-go that pain pills/drugs can only be used if they're needed-- we don't want them to think that they are either candy or entertainment.
Just then the nurse rolled a small cart to the end of Jilder's bed and picked up two plates each just brimming with chicken over brown rice, spinach, bright red pickled ginger, and a salad composed of a full split tomato, walnuts, shaved carrots, broccoli florets, diced onion on the side, dripping in olive oil dressing.
The boys eyes enlarged and they both picked up their fork in one hand and knife in the other and started yelling, "And lemonade too, please..." so as not to be forgotten-- as if that could be possible, given their potential for mutiny...
"Just hold your horses, guys," the nurse replied. "The beverage cart is right behind me. Nelson will give you something to drink as soon as he gets here. See, he's just over there," she explained patiently-- or maybe out of self-defense, one never knows.
"OK" Nicky answered after beginning on his first forkful. Jilder was quiet and already engaged. Given Jilder's propensity to get thoroughly into his meal, I knew we could expect 10 minutes or so of dead silence from the two boys...
Hugo had gone down to the nurses' station with his pad and started up a written conversation with the male nurse down there. Hugo asked, "Has Dr. Gilmer visited the boys today?"
The nurse picked up a pen and wrote back, "I think so. I came on at three this afternoon. I think he came early today."
"Do you know if both Nicky and Jilder will still be able to leave the hospital on Saturday," Hugo wrote.
"Humm? I don't know. Let me check their charts," the nurse replied. After which he perused the charts and began nodding his head in the affirmative after looking into each chart.
"Yep!" the nurse wrote. "Saturday's still the day."
Hugo smiled and thanked the nurse, then turned and came back to Jilder's bed. I'd taken a seat in one of those soft chairs that are much too low to be next to the patients' beds, and Hugo sat down on the arm of the chair, putting his arm behind my head at the top of the chair's back. He could see the boys very clearly from his elevated spot.
Nicky looked over at Jilder, both of them shoveling food in as fast as physics would allow, and when he caught Jilder's eye he bobbed his head in our direction, trying to get Jilder to do something or say something to Hugo and me. "Go ahead," Nicky whispered, "now!."
"No! YOU do it," Jilder whispered back equally as intimidated.
"Why won't-cha? You said they'd let us..," Nicky answered in yet another whisper loud enough to be heard down at the nurses station.
"I think they'd be nicer to you than to me. Go ahead, you try em...," Jilder came back.
At which point they were both about to explode with whatever it was that was on their minds; Nicky must have screwed up the courage first, because it was then he turned directly to the seat Hugo and I were sharing and spoke, "Jilder said you guys said maybe we could have a dog..." Then he quickly looked back to Jilder for moral support, and shoveled in yet another forkful of food feigning nonchalance.
Hugo didn't understand the details but he caught the word "dog!" and that was enough for him. He swiveled around to look at me and laugh and point.
The issue had hardly registered with me when I realized that an old conversation I'd had with Jilder had been retrieved from some archive, and now I was on record as advocating a canine colleague for our two new housemates... "Did I say that?" I thought, trying to remember, like some political candidate facing a new attack ad.
Hugo picked up the pad and wrote. "I know you probably don't remember, but you really did tell Jilder something about "maybe a dog" in the future. Anyhow, I forgot to warn you that with boys you can't say ANYTHING without having it recollected and used against you FOREVER... Watch Out!!! Sorry..." (Followed by three happy faces... oh, yeah, and one happy face had floppy ears-- humm? is THAT supposed to be a dog in my life???)
I took his pen and replied to Hugo, "Oh, Shit!" in two-inch letters!... not truly bothered by the request, just startled by the recognition that indeed one has no wiggle room with kids. Everything is black & white, and if you EVER said it YOU'RE FUCKED-- FOREVER...
"Well, I do seem to remember something about the POSSIBILITY of getting a dog," I said, "Since we have a nice back yard," I said, "But I haven't thought any more about it... Are you guys thinking about having a dog now?".
"Oh, yeah!" Nicky replied, "Could we? I mean it would be so great to have somebody to play with, since we can't go out and ride skateboards or do stuff like that until we feel better. Would you discuss it with Hugo and see if it would be OK with him too?"
So then I started in: "Do you boys understand that there's more to having a dog than playing with it? Like WHO is going to feed it every morning and every night? And who is going to give it water all the time... Dogs drink a lot of water, and they can't go to the tap and get it for themselves.. Also, who's going to take him out so he can pee and poop? Dogs can't be ignored. They havta pee and poop like people, and if you don't take them out, they poop in your bed!@! And what if he gets sick? WHO is going to sit with him and give him medicine? Dogs don't like to take pills, you'd have to hold him down and drop it in... Are you boys ready to take on all that responsibility..." I was trying to make the thought of being a dog owner a thoroughly daunting & decidedly disagreeable proposition... maybe one they'd reject out of hand????
And I went on trying to make sure they wouldn't miss the point, "And remember, you're going to have to start back to school before too long, maybe I'll start you on home-schooling and teach you math and things until you can go back to public school. Will a dog fit in, Nicky? Jilder? I ain't gonna do all that work... It would be YOUR dog. YOU'd have to do the work!!!" And I said all that meaning every word of it.
After which I was greeted with cheers, "Yea, yea, Kevin said it's OK... We can have a dog, Yeah! Now does Hugo mind?"
"Did I just say that????"
At which point Nicky jumped off the bed and took Hugo's pad and wrote, "Kevin says we can have a dog... Do you mind? Please, Hugo?" And he handed it to Hugo.
OMG. I'm surrounded, I thought... Hugo smiled benignly with complete recognition of how I'd been railroaded into the Kingdom of Canine Delights. He shrugged and shook his head "yes," more in surrender than in wholehearted enthusiasm.
"Yea, yea." Jilder yelled. "Thanks, Hugo. Thanks, Kevin... They shouted together, "When can we go to buy one?"
"Well, guys, I haven't given any thought to dog-shopping at all. Give me a day or two to discover how we can get this done.... I just don't know right at this moment."
"But can we have our dog right when we get out of the hospital?" Nicky was attempting to hem us in by getting us to commit to yet a skosh more in expectations. Kids are relentless... Push. Push. Push...
"Now that's all I can say right now, boys." I tried to bring this run-away train to a halt without being annihilated in a train wreck.
"Yea. Yea." and they jumped off of the bed and gave us both big bear hugs, bumping into each other to get to both Hugo and me.
Okay. Okay, I guess it's nice to be loved, even if there's a little political maneuvering involved occasionally.
"Yea. Yea." and they both scrambled back up on the bed, just in time to reply to the orderly who had rolled up a buss cart to retrieve the dishes. They both put their plates and paper cups on the top of the buss cart with special effort to be considerate to Nelson, as he took care of his end of the work of caring for these steel-reinforced-scoundrels, loveable to the last ounce of mischief, but always ready for yet another round of entertainment... What's next, I thought.
Hugo leaned over to me, hugged me, and gave me a kiss on the head. He understood what a whipping I'd just taken, and he was clearly there for me. God, love is wonderful.
We visited for an hour or so more with the boys and then hustled both of them off to their respective beds, hoping thereby to earn a few brownie points from the nurse, who no doubt would be as happy to get rid of these two as we would to take them off her hands.
Even with Jilder's sobering injury and their newly undertaken coalition to establish maximum cooperation in their dog negotiations, they settled down in bed quickly. Jilder went back to his PSP, and Nicky put on earphones to watch a nearby television set.
Hugo and I tucked them in and gave each good night kisses. The nurse was on her rounds to give each of them one pain pill to make getting to sleep a bit easier. And with that our family was ready for the night.
Back at the townhouse, we had hardly walked into the bedroom when Hugo climbed into bed and in two seconds was out like a light. I fished the crumpled paper from the pocket of his fatigue jacket and went upstairs to the office to type up his letter to Dr. Kavanaugh. In short order I had it done in four copies: one to sign and send, one for Hugo's doctor, and two for our files.... with envelopes.
And with that the day felt done. All of my loved ones were safe and with promises of good things in their futures. I thought, "What does all this mean, God?" "What should I do next?"
My mind went blank, and then it seemed so obvious that I didn't need to ask again. I just had to allow God to put things in motion, which he seemed pretty capable of doing, now that I thought about it.
I didn't need to make anything happen-- EVER. That's His job.