I left mylar in the sky over Greenville
It all started with a call from the scheduler Wednesday afternoon asking if I'd cover a deposition in Greenville Thursday morning.
I decided to leave right away and spend the night in the upstate rather than compromise the delicate balance of my day -- not to mention my psyche -- with an ignorant-o'clock wake-up alarm.
(The lawyer who retained me -- super-nice guy -- says nothing in ten words if a hundred will do. That can make for a long day. You have to eat your Wheaties.)
The Boo agreed to ride shotgun. By five thirty or so we were packed and on our way, moving through a muggy midlands afternoon toward what we hoped would be a balmy evening in cooler climes.
If the stars and planets aligned we would check into the Hyatt Regency and be strolling Greenville's charming Main Street before twilight, drawing a bead on a spot of dinner.
All went according to plan. Our walk was delightful; I took pictures. We ate pizza and window-shopped.
Back in the room, the Boo docked her iPod and we listened to Josh Groban. I painted my toenails. The lights were out by eleven.
While I was getting ready on Thursday morning Boo obligingly trotted down to Liquid Highway and secured my coffee.
Later she drove me around the corner and a few blocks over, to the law firm.
The depo went off without a hitch and wasn't overlong. I was cut loose at noon and it felt like a gift.
Now to execute the second part of our plan.
Guillain-Barre: Rare. Thorough. Debilitating.
My nephew, Michael, age 28, has been hospitalized in Greenville since the Wednesday after Easter.
After a particularly severe upper respiratory infection, he developed Guillain-Barre Syndrome. For several weeks he was paralyzed from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head.
After more than a month in ICU he is slowly regaining a few facial movements and he can twitch a finger or two.
Michael is a family man: he has a lovely wife, Marie, and a baby son named Tobias.
All along I had been keeping up with Michael through my mom and my sister, who are with him every day, but I hadn't seen him with my own eyes. Today would be the day.
It was 72 degrees; the humidity was low. As downtown receded in the rearview and we tooled toward Travelers Rest, I opened my car's moon roof all the way and turned up the stereo.
On the way to the long-term acute care facility where Michael is slowly recovering, we stopped to pick up some flowers.
I wanted balloons floating high above the bouquet, so we went to the dollar store and chose two with a smiley-face design and a big band-aid and the cheery-hopeful blandishment "Get Well Soon!"
The balloons cost a dollar apiece plus tax and came festooned with six feet of white curling ribbon corkscrewed into flowing spirals.
I handed them to the Boo. We walked to the car, anxious to be on our way.
She got there first and yanked open the back door. I was about to say "Let's tie the balloons to the flowers …" when it happened.
The Boo put the balloons into the back seat … and let go.
Without noticing that the moon roof was still open.
All the way.
The happy-face get-well-soon balloons leapt through that open space and were soon well on their way into space. Through the moon roof to the moon.
Gone like yesterday.
Incredulous, I watched them escape. For once, I was speechless.
God is good. Balloons or no balloons.
It was difficult seeing my beloved nephew. Michael has lost so much weight, he is skin over bones. His handsome face is set in an open-mouthed stare. A ventilator breathes for him most of the time. He gets nourishment through a feeding tube.
When the Boo and I talked to Michael, he looked at us and tried so hard to respond. He indicated that he wanted his wife to pick out some letters on a chart so he could tell me something.
"God is good," Michael wrote and said to me with his eyes and his heart.
I left most of my mascara there … blackening tear-damp tissues in the wastebasket. The rest is still on Marie's shoulder.
Presently the Boo begged a glass jar from the nurses' station and we filled it with water. Marie expertly cut the stems of Michael's flowers and arranged them, setting them where he could see their bright colors.
I figured it was time to tell him about his balloons and where they'd ended up. I made the story funny even though I knew he couldn't laugh, but when I was hamming up how ditzy the Boo is and how she let go of his balloons, he rolled his eyes upward and I think I saw him smile.
It was as though he pictured mylar in the sky over Greenville.
As for me, I saw him staying with us for a long time ... and getting well soon.
Reader Comments (9)
You know, I'm sure your visit blessed him, and I know he enjoyed the balloon story. However - I'm pretty sure you were more blessed by his awesome testimony!
Guillain-Barre Syndrome is a terrible disease and not really much they can do for it unfortunately. The story about the balloons may have given him (and you) more joy than the actual balloons, who knows. Glad the trip went well.
@ Mari ... it was a moment! Seeing him in that condition was so hard, but I believe and trust God for a full recovery. And soon!
@ Debbie ... Terrible indeed. Happily, most people do get better ... but it's a long road back. My sister, Michael's mother, said exactly what you did: the story about the escaped balloons probably cheered him more than the balloons would have! Go figure.
It's so good to hear Michael's faith has not wavered and that he has such loving family members by his side. I can't imagine how hopeless someone in his condition would feel if they lacked either of those essentials. He knows he is loved, and he knows this all has happened for a reason. And, he knows better days are ahead, both in this world and in the next. :-)
(P.S. Have you considered the possibility that Erica is a member of PETB? You know, People for the Ethical Treatment of Balloons? Her "accident" could very well have been a deliberate act so the balloons could be free. Whatever you do, don't let her near any child's birthday party. The resulting carnage could be catastrophic.)
Please tell Michael that folks he doesn't know are being inspired by his positive attitude and his faith. Prayers for Michael and his family.
@ Kev ... Paradoxically, Michael in some ways is doing better than the rest of us! We struggle with what has happened but he has no choice but to endure it and he seems at peace with it. Amazing. Thank you for your prayers. And yes: Praise God, we know that whatever happens, heaven is Michael's eternal home.
As for Erica ... mercy. Child is a caution. Approach warily ... especially if you are a balloon! LOL
@ Reiuxcat ... I will tell him ... and thank you! I know he will be pleased and encouraged!
I hope and pray for a full recovery for your nephew.
Years ago, one of my coworkers was suddenly stricken with Guillain-Barre. She wasn't affected as severely as your nephew. At any rate, she made a full recovery.
Great story! Glad you made the best of the lost balloon situation. It's all you can do sometimes.
Nice new profile pic btw! LUV it. Made me smile.
@ Josephine ... thanks for your concern and your prayers! The story of your co-worker gives me hope that someday Michael will be fully well.
@ Audrey ... you like that piccie? Good! The iMac Photo Booth (on certain settings) is like a fountain of youth! Not without my "effects" !!!! LOL As for the lost balloons ... *sigh*