The Last Unopened Christmas Gift by Mark Kadzielawa

 

What else needs to be said about Christmas that hasn’t been said before? It is definitely the most special time of the year. The decorations, the variety of colors, the tree, the ornaments, and lights, lights, and lights again. Even during the coldest and snowiest winter, there is something very warm about Christmas. Many claim it is their favorite time of the year, even though a beach is nowhere close in sight. Nothing beats the feel of the Christmas gifts about to be opened. The excitement from the ones who give and the ones who receive… just wow. How can you match that? 

As the gifts continued to disappear from under my tree this year, there was one that stayed behind. It was just lying there, lonely and abandoned. Whether the tree was lit or dark, that one gift was waiting patiently for its destined owner. So, who gets the last gift? A person very dear to me, and a person who loves gifts, who loves shopping, and enjoys the Christmas spirit. Who is it? My mother. Only this time she’s nowhere close to the Christmas tree, not even in the same location where the gift is placed. Why do you ask? What would cause such an inexcusable delay? 

My mother is in the hospital. Shortly before Christmas she suffered a stroke, and she is simply trying to recover and get better. Her life and my life have changed in a big way since this unfortunate event. It’s pointless trying to justify why it happened; life just works in mysterious ways and often throws you a curveball. While I have experienced many curveballs thus far, this one is certainly a big one. Countless hours at the hospital, conferring with nurses and doctors, and just making sure that she is doing alright. 

Hospitals are just like countries; they operate on their own rules. The more time you spend there, the more you understand the inner workings, not to mention being able to find parking at ease. It’s an expertise one would rather try to avoid, but once again it’s back to choices, or lack thereof. Your body might be tired, but you follow your mind and your heart, and you do the right thing. You don’t have much time to figure out what that is; you know it or you don’t; there is no in-between. All of a sudden, all other things with some importance become irrelevant, and you only have one goal in mind. The adrenaline and unbridled energy are doing overtime, and there are moments where you absolutely crash, only to wake up the next day and do it again.

How did this all happen? About a week before Christmas, I was on the phone with my mother during my lunch break. We were talking about a doctor visit scheduled for the next day. She was asking me if everything was in place, which it was. What I did notice was her speech. It sounded slurry over the phone, but it was still the phone, and sometimes you just can’t tell. It left me concerned; I told her I would check on her in an hour just to make sure. Shortly after our phone call, she fell down and injured her collarbone. She told me later she felt the fall was a serious one because she was in pain. She heard the phone ringing, but she couldn’t get to it. Luckily, she was able to get close to the front door, open it, and ask for assistance. Luckily again, her next-door neighbor was walking to his car and noticed something was not right. Endless thanks to my mother’s neighbors who reacted quickly and got her into a hospital in no time. My wife got there as soon as she could, and then I got there after finishing an after-school program, which I couldn’t cancel at such short notice. Getting to the hospital was a great relief for me. While things were far from good, I felt good being close and being able to support my mother through this very challenging time. 

Initially, the stroke was not detected even though there were symptoms of it taking place. After a very detailed MRI, the doctors confirmed a mild stroke and a serious buildup in the brain area. As my mother’s stay extended, she received multiple visits from all sorts of doctors, neurologists mostly. The doctors presented several options for possible procedures that would prevent additional strokes from happening. At first, my mom was being very stubborn and pretty much shut down any such possibilities. A day later, however, she began to consider things, especially seeing how it was affecting her vision and mobility. At first, I must admit I didn’t know how to react to her defiance, but I told her, “Whatever you decide, I will be with you until the end.” Later that night I woke up in the middle of the night trying to make sense of it all. At that point, I realized that I need to honor and support her every decision, even if I don’t agree with it at first. If she wanted to go out on her own terms, I can only show support and be there. Grim thoughts that only happen at that time of the night. The next day brought more brightness, as she agreed to a procedure to oversee what can be done. A little glimmer of hope, I suppose. 

The doctors navigated through one of her veins, saw the area of concern up close, and determined their next possible step. This time, the meetings with the physicians became more serious because the procedure they were proposing had a risk element in it. It dealt with a very sensitive area. We spent time talking about it for the next two days, trying to make sense of it all. At the end, my mother decided to go for it despite the possible risks involved. While I was happy for her for being so brave, on a personal level the stress completely took over my body and my mind. I was worried that something could go wrong. On the day of the procedure, she seemed very relaxed and ready for anything that may come. I was with her until she was taken to the operating room, and then I was awaiting the results and trying to maintain any sort of sanity left. It was a very nervous time, and when I saw the two doctors heading towards me an hour later, I think I must’ve been shaking. They came with good news: the procedure was successful, and she was being taken to an intensive recovery unit. A big trip from below the ground level all the way to the seventh floor…and more waiting. This time it was much longer, but the echo of the good news made me feel a tiny bit better. During this time, I called multiple relatives to update them with the latest developments. Now looking back at it, what an intense time it was for me mentally. It felt like I completed two loading shifts at UPS.

It was unbelievable how advanced the medical procedures are nowadays. When I was growing up, you simply couldn’t imagine such a thing being even possible. Yet, as much as you admire the doctors and their advanced methods, there is also a level of fear, which doubles and triples with each passing minute of uncertainty. It’s a double-edged sword, and most of the time it really comes down to luck, and the luck was definitely on our side today…

Finally, I was taken to meet her. She looked very tired, but she did recognize me. It seems like every few minutes a nurse or a doctor would come and check her reflexes and sadly keep her awake. This pretty much continued throughout the whole night. That schedule only loosened up on the next day. She looked exhausted and worn out by the procedure and the follow-up checkups.

It felt sad to look at her and realize how quickly things can change. How quickly you can go from feeling normal to being completely limited and in pain. The overwhelming feeling of being powerless is suffocating. It makes you realize that despite all your riches, you can do very little for your loved ones in the face of a serious medical emergency. Which also makes you understand that all you have amounts to nothing. You come into this world with nothing, and you pretty much leave the same way.

I visited the hospital on a daily basis, walked many halls, and saw the insides of many rooms while passing by. The amount of hurt and challenge I was able to observe made me acquire a new perspective on things. What a luxury it is to be able to stand and walk; what a luxury it is to be able to go to the bathroom unassisted. Things I took for granted for decades, until I saw my mother struggling in that area. Being healthy and mobile is an incredible blessing. Also, in the stroke unit I saw many young people recovering; I found that very surprising. How can a guy 20/30 years younger than myself already have a stroke? How is it justified? It turns out that no one is immune, and no one is guaranteed another day. So, make the best of what you have left because you really don’t know how much it could be.

Having a parent in the hospital during Christmas is especially tough. I remember sitting next to my mom in the hospital room during Christmas. I was feeling somewhat confused, hurt, and unsure of the direction. She was peacefully sleeping and regaining her strength. As I was getting an update from the nurse, I asked her, "What should I do?" Since I was never in such a situation, the dilemma was massive. “Do I stay here with my mom, or do I join my immediate family for Christmas? What makes one more important than the other?” The nurse, while young, had a strong and wise response. “I see you here all the time, and I know it’s not easy when a major holiday like Christmas is taking place. What you should do is be here a little bit, which you’re already doing, and be there a little bit, so that way you have some balance, and you won’t go crazy.” After a few more hours, I followed her advice, wished my mom peace and Merry Christmas, and continued to celebrate with my wife and my daughters, only to return the next day. The advice was good and logically reasonable, but there still was an element of guilt I felt inside. Was I being a good and responsible son? Was I being a good and responsible husband and father? You can’t flip a coin and get an answer.

As my mother continues to recover, I would visit her on a daily basis. Some days she would be more animated and talkative, and others she would be resting and not saying much. It was difficult to see her like that, and I knew the recovery would be very slow, and it still is. When not in the hospital, I needed some safety zones to be able to feel good and maybe even distract myself from the overall hospital mood. I would listen to audiobooks, trying to get into the plot of the story, and follow it until the end. I would watch movies, mostly handpicked features that I had a long history with and reminded me of some great times from the past. Movies like “Spies Like Us,” “Goldfinger,” “Rio Lobo,” “Blue Thunder,” “Kelly’s Heroes,” “Grand Prix,” or “Better Off Dead” really took me into another dimension where anything and everything was fine. What a great escape they always seem to provide. 

As December came to a close, the hospital transferred my mother to a rehabilitation center. It’s very close to where I work, and I am able to visit her there. She is now working with a variety of therapy doctors and specialists on walking and speech. The big goal is for her to be able to move around independently or with the assistance of a walker. Her doctor tells her that her legs are strong, and of course they are. She would walk long distances prior to the stroke, so I know she was in great shape. Now, it is up to the brain to reset itself and start sending the proper signals to the rest of her body. Easier said than done, but there are steps being taken on a daily basis, and of course there is hope and positivity. 

As I sit in my living room and think of all that transpired over the last month, it is hard to believe how much time, feeling, and energy was poured out of me, but I have a good feeling about it. When you release so much positive energy and direct it at someone so close, that energy must also somehow contribute to the overall recovery. I’m looking at my Christmas tree, and it calms me down, and as I peek below the bottom branch, I still see the last unopened gift that is patiently waiting for its owner, and I’m waiting too.

Mark Kadzielawa