Miracles; Steven's Story (based on a true story)

Miracles

  Steven’s Story

  Carey Mozena

  Copyright 2011 Carey Mozena

  Lights flashed and sirens screamed, breaking the silence of the dark city street. Emergency workers rushed up the porch steps to save a man inside the gray house while sleepy neighbors looked on in shock. Steven had been so healthy and active, no one saw this coming. Everyone held their breath as they watched the rolling bed being pushed out of the house with Steven on top, unable to lay still. He thrashed around, nearly falling off the bed as it was lifted up into the back of the ambulance. Within seconds, the doors slammed shut and the ambulance sped away, leaving Steven's family and friends shaken and cold, standing around on the dark lawn. Whispers replaced the sirens, each person voicing their opinion of what had happened and whether or not Steven would be alright. Quick words about who would go and who would stay with the children were spoken low, and the family split up. One by one, the neighbors all returned to their beds, and the city street became quiet and still once more.

  *****

  Steven picked up the television remote and flipped through the channels. It had been four years since he had been taken away in an ambulance. He knew that he was old, but he never felt old until he woke up in that hospital room. He wasn't completely sure about what had happened that night, except that the doctors kept saying something about an aneurism bursting in his brain followed by a massive stroke and that he was lucky to be alive. He sighed. He wouldn't call his daily routines 'living'. He used to enjoy taking his grandchildren to the corner store for ice cream, or play volleyball with his family and friends. He couldn't do any of that anymore. He wasn't sure if it was the aneurism or the stroke, but whatever it was, it had left him paralyzed on the right side. He couldn't walk or stand, or even lift his right arm. He just sat on the couch day after day, watching television or putting together grade-school puzzles. He couldn’t even talk. Any time he tried, it came out as a groan. His bedroom had been on the second floor of the house, but since he couldn't get around without a wheelchair, a barred hospital bed had been moved into the dining room for him. One of his daughters, Jamie, had moved in with her three children so that he would have constant care. Another of his daughters, Deadre, lived right next door, and the oldest daughter, Cindy, lived next door to that. He wasn't sure where his other daughter, Teresa lived, but she came over every weekend. The first three came over everyday to bathe him, dress him, fix his meals, take him to the bathroom, and make sure he was okay. He smiled to himself at the thought of his children coming together for him like this. They were the only things keeping him going.

  A man in a wheelchair came on the television screen, along with a woman standing next to him. An announcer spoke about a nearby hospital's new therapy for wheelchair-bound patients. The screen swept through a state-of-the-art therapy room, filled with all kinds of equipment that was supposed to help people walk. The screen then switched to the man getting out of his wheelchair next to a set of bars and walking. Steven sighed, thinking of the months of therapy he had been through, but with no progress. The doctor decided to end Steven's therapy, thinking it was a waste of time. In fact, Steven didn't think he'd ever walk again, either. He flipped to a different station. Three young children frolicked in a grassy meadow, along with a dog and a man that Steven guessed was their father. Memories of how he used to take his children to the park and play with them like that filled his mind. He felt a tear trickle down his face and quickly wiped it away. He glanced at his wife, Shellie, sitting in a recliner nearby, but she didn't seem to notice. She didn't seem to notice much of anything these days.

  Steven set the remote down as the screen changed again and pulled a large board that had been sitting on the couch next to him onto his lap. There was a half-finished puzzle on the board. He enjoyed doing his puzzles. They took his mind off of everything going on around him. Adjusting the board on his lap, he picked up a red and yellow piece and searched for it's spot. He never used the picture on the top of the puzzle box. It was more fun to figure it out without the picture, and to be surprised at the end. After searching for the piece's spot for five minutes, he set it down again. He couldn't find it's place. He picked up another piece and found it's spot. Another piece quickly followed. In a matter of minutes, he had finished the puzzle. It was pretty cute, a kitten and a puppy sleeping next to each other. He rubbed the finished puzzle, proud of his accomplishment. He still had that red and yellow piece sitting on the board. That piece didn't belong. It was just an extra piece that had been thrown in the box without any place in the puzzle. That was how Steven felt; like a piece that didn't belong.

  He saw one of his granddaughters coming up from their playroom in the basement and he groaned, pointing to the finished puzzle. She understood and put the puzzle back in the box without saying anything. Completing a puzzle didn't impress her. She was nine years old, and could finish the same, 100-piece puzzle more quickly than he could. He held up the stray yellow and red piece, groaning again. She glanced at it and took it from him, dropping it in a shallow bowl on the end table next to him. The piece would stay there until they found the puzzle it belonged to, which was unlikely. Anytime he found a stray piece, it ended up in that bowl, and then in the trash. He stared silently at the red and yellow piece as his granddaughter pulled another small puzzle out from under the end table and dumped the pieces on his board. She tossed the box carelessly on the couch next to him and trotted back to the basement stairs and disappeared. He knew she didn't want to stay there any longer than she had to. She didn't want to be around him anymore. He figured that she didn't remember all the fun they used to have, going to movies and the candy store together. He sighed and began sorting the puzzle pieces.

  Before he got very far, Cindy came in the front door carrying a steaming pot that smelled delicious, and headed towards the kitchen. Cindy always came over with dinner ready nearly every day. Every Thursday, Deadre would cook, and every Tuesday they would take him out to a restaurant. Moments later, Jamie came down from the second floor, helped Shellie into the kitchen, and came back into the living room, taking Steven's puzzle board away and setting a smaller board on his lap. Cindy walked out of the kitchen with a bowl of beef stew and set it carefully on the board and handed him a spoon. She then called down the stairs to the children playing in the basement to come up and eat and walked back into the kitchen. Everyone gathered in the kitchen except for him. They used to put him in his wheelchair and let him eat in the kitchen with everyone else until they realized that leaving him in the living room by himself was easier. He dipped the spoon in the bowl and shakily raised a chunk of potato out. Being right-handed all his life, it had been hard to learn to eat with his left hand. He still spilled a little gravy onto his board as he took a bite and wondered when he would die. He believed that death was the end, and he longed for the end. He hated being such a burden on his family, but there was nothing he could do about it.

  He lay in bed that night, thinking about what he could have done to deserve this miserable existence. The silence of the night pressed in on him, and the stink of the half-filled urine bottle sitting on the floor wafted over him. He stared at the blackness, hoping that maybe tonight, his life would end. He closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to envelope him, and hopefully, that death would take him.

  He awoke the next morning, just as he had every morning before, stiff and sleepy. The noise of the day bothered him. He knew that shortly, Jamie would come in and get him dressed and put him on the couch and leave him there for the day, just like she did every day. He didn
't care anymore. Over the years, he numbed himself to the goings on of his family. He felt less like a part of his own family, and more of a spectator. He watched his daughters grow older and take less of an interest in him. He watched his eldest grandchildren grow up and move away. He even watched as his first great grandson was born and brought over for a visit for the first time. He smiled when he got the chance to hold the baby, but it was short-lived. Before he knew it, his great grandson was too big to be held anymore, and, just like all of his grandchildren, he didn't want anything to do with Steven.

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