We're Not in Hawaii, Are We? Excerpt 1

8/6/2019 We're Not in Hawaii, Are We? Excerpt 1

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We.re Nat in Hawaii,Are We?Where you are at any given point in time is all relative between amother and daughter

Caryl A. Felicettamailto:[email protected]

WE'RE NOT IN HAWAII, AREWE? - EXCERPT1 2011, CARYLA. FELICETTA. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. I 1
mailto:mailto:[email protected]:mailto:[email protected]


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We're Not in Hawaii, Are We?Excerpt by Caryl A. Felicetta

I never knew what to expect when I got there. Past experience hadpredisposed me to the wringing knots in my stomach until I walkedthrough her door. I had practiced being "positive" and trying not toassume the worst. Unfortunately that's against my nature. And this wasmy mother we were talking about."There" was "The Garden" as we called it, a rehabilitation and nursingcare center near my parents home in South Jersey. We found it quickly -with the help of a good friend, the social worker's recommendations,and the Internet, of course - on the day of her discharge during the firstleg of this journey. Niecie was in pretty good spirits that time around.After showing her pictures online, we all agreed it was nice; it lookedmore like a hotel than a hospital, and we joked about that often. Mostimportantly, it would give her the time she needed to get strong, and shewas OKwith that.Carotid surgery - "it's an easy surgery, really," the doctor assured -turned into six weeks in the hospital, then another six in rehab, whichwas followed two months later by yet another week in the hospital andfour weeks in rehab. Just 17 months before she had been diagnosedwith congestive heart failure and left the hospital with five stents and a



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stack of 17 prescriptions. Her battle to recover from the cardiovasculardisease that brewed inside her - for likely as many years as we heldonto the "Hawaiian dream" - was coming to an end.Her second time at The Garden was more difficult. She had weakenedboth in body and spirit. She was tired. She often said she had enough.She hated that she finally "looked old." The stress level of what was nextwas getting to us all.So we spent every day with her, cheered her on, armed ourselves withstacks of gossip magazines that she loved, and watched countless hoursof TV together. In the background, I neurotically obsessed over everyreport or spoken word from each doctor and nurse like I had a medicaldegree. I tried tucking the stress of the unknown into my back pocket,hanging on to it like I needed it, only to pull it out the next day. It wasthat fear of "what's next" that was paralyzing me.

So I coped by over-exposing myself to whatever other information Icould find - to better prepare myself. I would get up at 4:45 everymorning to call the nurse's station and see how the night went, timing itperfectly to get accurate reports from the night shift prior to theturnover to the day shift.Sure, I could've call her room, but most times the phone was out ofreach, or I was concerned I might wake her. Not getting an answerwould leave me even more stressed and make the hour ride even longerfor the voices in my head to babble uncontrollably. "Why isn't sheanswering? Is there something wrong? Should I call the nurse's stationagain?"WE'RE NOT IN HAWAII, AREWE? - EXCERPT1 2011, CARYLA. FELICETTA. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. I 3


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The calls were mostly the same. "She had a good night. No issues werereported," a calm professional voice would typically say."She slept OK?Didn't try to get up?" I'd continue, hoping not to miss anydetails. I was sure they answered without ever looking at her chart."N0, everything was fine." I really was sure that the voice on the otherend had no idea who I was even talking about.The staff must have understood my prodding phone calls, it was mymother after all and they all had mothers, right?Niecie, the pet name Gramma gave Bernice, was a big dreamer."Someday I'm gonna win the lottery and we're all going to Hawaii," she'dsay. We all heard it for years, although I was never sure why she pickedHawaii. I'd tell her that with all the money they spent trying to win, theycould have saved it and taken that trip afterall.

***

This particular morning it was unusual. I was awakened not by theusual bleeping from the alarm clock. The phone was ringing. Noonelikes a 4 AM call; it's never good. This time it was The Garden calling me."Everything is alright. Your mom had a little fall over night. It seemedlike she was trying to get out of bed. She's fine, really. The doctor iscoming in to check her, just to be sure. She said she's fine. We justwanted you to know."

She always said she was fine. For 81 years, she repeated that statement



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like she invented the words. And of course they "wanted me to know;"legally, they have to! There go the voices in my head again."I'm fine," she said to me when I rushed in to her room. And actually, shedid seem OK."I had to go to the bathroom, I think." She always spoke inambiguities, so this was nothing unusual. After a brief pause, she smiledand continued, "Can I ask you a question?""Sure," I said. I assumed it was going to be "when am I going home", atopic we danced around regularly."We're not in Hawaii, are we?" she asked.Now my head raced. Has this all been a weird dream? Just a long strangetrip filled with doctors and nurses standing in for the bellmen and theconcierge? Has all the time we spent eating lunch and dinner with 80-,90-, and even 100-somethings just one of my crazy nightly head trips?For once I was speechless, but she was staring at me waiting for ananswer. Right now, it would be far easier to answer a question like, "didyou smoke pot when you were a teenager?" but that's not the questionon the table. It's time to grow up."Uh, no Ma. I wish we were. We're at The Garden, remember? It kindlooks like a hotel, but unfortunately we're still in New Jersey.""Yea, I know," she said, looking a little dejected, "that's what they toldme." She stopped for a moment, then smiled again and started, "I had adream we all went to Hawaii. I thought this was the hotel, but yourfather isn't here, so I wasn't sure."



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I leaned in, hugged her, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Did you thinkyou won the lottery finally?" I asked."I must have," she replied with her trademark smile and the usualbrightness in her crystal blue-gray eyes that would start to fade in thedays after.

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Caryl Felicetta is a marketing professional and writer in New Jersey. Thisis an excerpt from her pending novel about the long strange end-oflifetrip she took with her mom, and how she got back to reality.


We're Not in Hawaii, Are We? Excerpt 1

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