Lana’s lovely, soft attributes that I had grown to adore, nearly twenty years in the making, were almost unrecognizable. Her wavy, stylish blonde hair and rosacea marked cheeks along with the wide, kind smile that always made me feel I’d come home were all overshadowed by the machinery that had been hooked to every orifice in her body in an attempt to keep her alive.
Trying to recollect the woman I knew was difficult, as her face now resembled that of a puffer fish, each cell distended and weeping with fluid. Her eyelids were so swollen and unable to close completely that they had to be taped shut so that her corneas were not damaged from constant exposure to the air. The hose in her nose extending into her stomach pumped out any excess gastric juice that was being produced. Her gut had stopped functioning and absorbing nutrients necessitating the continuous injection of intravenous sustenance directly into a large vein in her neck. Also flowing into this vein through separate lumens were multiple, herculean vasopressor medications that were used to give her body blood flow. Counting three different completely maxed out “pressors,” hanging above her head barely managing to even give her a blood pressure: it was a horrible sign. Really there was not much left to do but pray.
The sound of the continuous rhythmic clicking of the ventilator that was connected to the endotracheal tube sitting in her windpipe to send oxygen to her lungs reminded me of instruments in a symphony. Wondering how long it would be before they told Heather that they would need to cut her mother’s neck open and place a more permanent device weighed on my mind briefly. The distraction did not last long before I had to fully take in what honestly lay before me.
Were my eyes playing tricks? It was if Lana, in all her disfigurement and corpse-like posture, started to glow. Looking up at the ceiling to search for the spotlight I was sure that must have just been flipped on by the nurse entering her room, I found none. But her body continued to illuminate. No longer was I staring at death or in fear. She was pure love and light and beautifully magnificent. Was I getting a glimpse of her soul? Whatever this was, I felt a deep peace and faith that all was well.
“Can I touch her?” softly questioning my best friend but really asking her radiance. “Of course,” I heard and felt her answer.
Taking the heart stone from my pocket that I had been guarding, I gently opened her contracted, puffy right hand and clasped it together with mine. The deep blue heart rock that had been imbued with the love of an innocent child and the clarity of my sage guru was the center of our embrace.
Kissing her forehead and then bending down close to her ear, I squeezed her hand so tightly that the imprint of the heart rock most likely would have remained embedded in the engorged tissue of her palm had I released our grip.
“This heart rock was blessed and shared with me during a dark, fearful time in my life by a great, sage friend and advisor. It embodied love and light and hope when I had very little left. I passed it on to Mia when I no longer needed the symbolism and could feel those qualities growing again within my own heart. I told her to rub it and hold it close to her chest when she missed me or was afraid. It has been bathed in her sweet, loving goodness. Mia asked me to impart this rock to you as she felt you needed it more than her now. Her four-year-old spirit wisely trusts the power of love concentrated in this little stone will help heal your own heart and now so do I.”
Letting the tears flow like a faucet, I hugged and kissed this special lady. Caught up in the moment of feeling total gratitude and love for knowing her regardless of what her physical outcome might be, Heather took over the speaking. In all my emotion I overheard her begging her mother to fight: to please stay alive, as she did not know if she could handle the pain of another loss. And then I heard her promise her mother something so precious.
“I need you but my unborn baby needs you too. You still have more to do in this world before you move on. I promise you, I will give you a grandchild if you just fight and live.”
My tears stopped and I flipped around. “What the fuck?” Are you pregnant?”
“No but I will be if this bitch will wake up and live again,” she retorted.
Laughter overtook us both as we embraced. My God, I loved both of these women. I hated to see my best friend in pain but I also knew that Heather had superhuman strength and wasn’t being handed anything her sassy ass couldn’t handle.
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