By Juan C. Ayllon 'I am tense but trying not to be. Seated in a hospital room in a light ochre modern rocker, with its tan walls, beige Stryker hospital bed, wires, charts, serene lake metal-framed print, the light green privacy curtain pulled back with a lustrous, faux oak flooring below, I am overcome with the large institutional vibe, the low drone of whooshing forced air, muted chatter from a nurse's station, electronic beeps, the closing of heavy, metal doors and passersby clad in blue scrubs, some pushing heavy equipment, marking the time. I am waiting for my mother, Bess Ayllon, to be wheeled in following a successful trans-catheter mitral valve replacement. I am grateful for her successful operation, but she's not out of the woods yet, as a blood clot attached to her heart's atrial wall poses a stroke risk, so they're putting her on additional blood thinners in hopes of dissolving it while keeping a close watch. That's what her chief heart surgeon told me over my cell phone several hours ago. Hence the tenseness.
Well, that and the tedium. I was told to arrive no later than 8:00 AM this morning in case they bumped up Mom's scheduled 9:30 surgery so I would be assured a pre-surgery visit. That went as scheduled, but now it's 3:12 PM and I am still waiting with no additional word. And with COVID-19 protocols, once you arrive at the hospital, you cannot leave the assigned room--save for a bathroom visit--and be allowed back in. Not even to grab a bite. So, a handful of crackers, a cup of Diet Coke and several bathroom visits later, it is now 3:30 PM. It occurs to me that if there's a Purgatory, it would be very much like this. Searching for things to ponder, I recall a radio talkshow guest touting the need for margins in our lives on a years-ago drive to work. What are margins, you ask? Like the blank spaces around the edges of a word processing screen or a legal pad, they provide the breathing room we need for life to remain sane and retain meaning over the long run. Without it, life can become unmanageable and the likelihood of burnout, breakdown or other negative consequences greatly increase. That point is underscored when a friend of hers texts, "Breathe." The fact remains that she made it past a major hurdle, so I should rejoice in that, relax, and take things as they come. After all, it's been a crazy last year or three with weddings, baby showers, the hospice and passing of my father-in-law, mother-in-law health issues, COVID-19, adapting to remote teaching, health scares, and then at 83, my mother suffering the onset of congestive heart failure, which led to her third heart surgery since 1991 today. I dropped her off yesterday afternoon at the Emergency Room, when she was suffering dizzy spells (I was not allowed to stay) and her doctors felt it best that they keep her overnight for observation prior to her operation. Then, as Belle and I tried to calm her fears last night over the phone, Mom recounted a breadth of subjects, some of which I was unaware. For instance, I did not remember that her mother, my grandmother Lucille Doughty, played the piano and sometimes filled in for the church organist where Grandpa Doughty preached as a Methodist minister. Or the fact that when my late father, Juan Ayllon Valle, traveled into the Bolivian jungle armed with a pistol, others bearing rifles, as his engineering team installed a pipeline in a dangerous region where native Indians sometimes attacked with bows and deadly arrows bearing tips shaped like fish hooks, making removal extremely difficult. Then there was the time that as a three year-old, I was bitten by our Cocker Spaniel, Pogo, who'd become rabid while my dad was away on his jungle adventure. When the proper serum was unavailable locally, the lengths Mom went to have good, non-expired medicine were incredible! No doubt, the shots were painful (she said it took three people to hold me down!), but with her hard work and determination, she saved my life! But, fascinating tales aside, it wasn't so much the storyline that caught my attention, but the great detail and precise manner in which Mom, a retired bilingual teacher, presented it. It dawned on me afterwards that, in many ways, she's a natural writer and perhaps this helped shape my predilection for the craft. I knew that Grandfather Doughty wrote some books, but it had never occurred to me that the richness of Mom's oral narratives through the years played a big part, as well. Her kind and godly demeanor also influenced and helped inform the kinder, softer parts of my persona, as Belle offered and thanked her effusively for. Whew. It's now 4:23 PM and Belle just texted me, 'You still waiting?" I am; a nurse informed me about 15 minutes ago that I should hear something soon from Mom's doctors but, oddly, the feelings of impatience have largely been replaced by a sense of gratitude and awe. I am grateful for my mother being the strong woman of character that she's been through the years and for her quiet, helpful influence on the lives of others and me. I will treasure the time I have left with her on Earth. And here's the thing: If I hadn't had this unexpected margin of time to process these half-formed thoughts and feelings, I might have missed it. Yesterday, when my stepdaughter Colleen reminded Belle that, as busy as we are with family demands, emergencies, and hosting her oldest sibling Ryan's family at our home, she needs to encourage me to carve out time to listen to my hi-fi system in our family room. It's one of the ways that I relax and re-create myself. I thought that was very astute of her! Margins--take advantage of them, make room with them for yourself, the people and things you love, breathe, spin a few tunes, and you just might find some unexpected blessings. Editor's Note: It's now 6:38 AM the next day and about 15 minutes ago, I received a call from the hospital notifying me that they'd moved Mom back into her room at midnight. She's properly stabilized and doing well, now. The nurse added that she didn't call then, as she didn't want to wake me. POST SCRIPT: On Friday, July 3rd, my mother texted me the following response to this blog post: Thank you, Juan. What a thoughtful and vivíd description of your surroundings, feelings and thoughts . I really appreciate your encouragement and good thoughts and memories of me and other family members and life in the past and now. I am more and more appreciative now of my own parents and their strength and values in overcoming many obstacles of near-poverty and personal family challenges, and losses of family members to illness (Dad’s first wife, Bess, from pneumonia in her early thirties, leaving four young children), oldest sister Helen’s fight and early death in her early fifties from breast cancer)and debilitating handicap from birth (Mar, oldest son with club foot and Cerebral Palsy, passed on from pneumonia at age 15). I am very thankful for their always providing food and a healthy home, in spite of little income, one of the downsides of Methodist pastors in small towns in Iowa. At least a house was usually provided, called the”Parsonage”. Of course upkeep, heating and other expenses were not included. They always had a vegetable garden and my mother spent much work -usually in hot steamy summer days- in the garden, and often with Dad as well as occasionally we kids. Then Mom was busy in the kitchen cutting up and preserving vegetables and fruits in hot steamy green Mason canning jars: quarts, pints and a few 2 quarts. I always remember with fondness and longing, at times, the real and delicious mince meat she prepared and made into pies, for Thanksgiving and Christmas, plus a few jars for the rest of the year. For entertainment, besides music, we often played board games such as dominos, checkers, Chinese checkers with marbles and a special playing board, and caroms. Lots of memories, mostly good, come to my mind now, giving a sense of some peace and strength of purpose. Maybe these are a type of “margin” that I can call to mind now and again to find more peace and strength in this hectic, challenging world. Margins that surround pictures of fortitude and faith.
2 Comments
Kyle
7/2/2020 02:45:32 pm
Lovely, Juan. Well written and thoughtful. Thank you for sharing this. Margins are indeed very necessary in our lives, and sometimes it takes moments like this to let us listen to these margins! After all, every thing is shaped not only by its own mass or presence but the space around....the negative and positive defines. Look outside the lines and see the aura, the energy, the being.
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7/3/2020 04:27:39 am
Thanks and you're very welcome, Kyle! I appreciate your kind words and advice. Your comment about positive and negative space defining things is very poignant, indeed! It makes sense, especially coming from an artist and set designer.
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Juan C. AyllonA writer, artist, educator and owner of Prairie Audio Man Cave, he lives with his wife, Isabel (AKA Belle), and their Goldendoodle, Liam, enjoys listening to high fidelity music and all things hi-fi at their home in the greater Chicagoland area.. Archives
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