Kalib: the one who is about to change his life

Lavina brought home the latest ultrasound of the next Hess, our new grandchild-in-waiting, today. We do not know the sex and nobody wants to know until the birth, but, as you can see, boy or girl, (s)he is mighty handsome and beautiful, all at once.

Cute, too - just like innocent little Kalib is cute.

Last night as we lay in separate beds, waiting for her latest injury to heal, Margie expressed the longing she feels for Kalib, now that he is back at daycare and she can watch over him no longer.

Kalib and his mom.

Kalib blasts me out of the bedroom when he makes an annoying discovery

I was in the bedroom, when all of a sudden the horn in the Escape began to honk repeatedly. "Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!..."

I blasted out of the bedroom and charged toward the living room to see if I could put a stop to this racket, as I knew the neighbors were hearing it, too.

There, standing in the front room was Kalib, who had gotten ahold of the electronic key. Kalib likes to push buttons and had just done so, setting off the horn. But the horn was quiet now, because Kalib's Dad had just turned it off. 

Kalib still had possession of the keys, however, and was most excited about it, for he suddenly realized that he held a magical power within his hands.

Kalib presses the button again.

Kalib jumps up with excitement and looks out the window towards the car as the horn blasts away again. He knows that, somehow, when he pushed that button, he caused this to happen.

Kalib points toward the honking car, as if to say, "listen to what I just did!"

 Kalib pushes the button again. The horn stops.

Again he pushes the button.

He looks toward the window in amazement as the car begins to honk again.

Dad tries to get Kalib to give him the keys. Kalib does not want to yield them. 

I drop Margie off for her MRI, see sights, big man gets stuck in children's slide, a femur fracture is found

"No, Royce!" I shouted as the old man orange cat ran through the door and dashed outside. I was about to drive Margie to town for her MRI and I wanted him to stay in the house. Even so, he went outside. After I helped Margie into the car, I picked Royce up and put him back inside the house.

"Where do you want to eat?" I asked Margie, once we got to town. She mentioned a couple of possibilites but when I noted that we had not yet feasted at the any of the Fourth Avenue hot dog stands this summer, she got excited.

"Oh, yes!" she exclaimed. "Let's go for hot dogs."

So, while Margie waited in the car, I bought two reindeer dogs. As the vendor prepared them, a guy roared by on a loud motorcycle. "What's this guy who comes by here everyday at the same time on his motorcycle going to do when winter comes?" the vendor asked.

I did not have the answer.

"I don't understand people who have to drive loud bikes," he continued. "Who are they trying to impress? I drive a bike, but it's not loud. A bike doesn't have to be loud."

I handed the money to the pretty young woman who works with him and who might be his wife and he handed me the hotdogs. I took them back to the car, along with Pepsi, Diet Pepsi and original Lay's Potato Chips. Margie and I sat there and ate them as the rain drummed on the roof.

It was the nicest time that we had experienced since she got injured and the dogs were delicious. I must go back and have another, but I think I will get beef next time, or maybe Kosher Polish.

I could not accompany Margie to the MRI room, so I dropped her off. I was told that the MRI would take 25 minutes, so I headed off to see what sights I might see. I had not gone far before I saw a young man push a woman in a wheelchair across the road as another man crossed in the opposite direction, carrying what appeared to be two cups of coffee.

The rain fell upon them all, just as the Bible says it does.

It didn't fall upon me, though, because I was in the car.

But not for long. Lisa had left her driver's license at Penney's, Penney's had sent it to us, so, as Margie lay in the MRI machine, I took it to the Alaska Native Medical Center's Family Medicine Clinic where Lisa works and brought it to her.

She then took a break and followed me back to the car. We then stood in the rain for just a little bit and discussed important things.

We hugged. "Bye, Dad," she said. I drove away.

To kill time, I circled the Alaska Native Medical Center itself and as I did, an airplane came flying by. At that very moment, Margie was in the tube, getting her knee cat-scanned. She did not like it. She felt claustrophobic, she kept her eyes closed and focused upon mental images of Kalib, running, laughing, playing. She saw him pull the telephone book off of the tiny table that it sits on, place it on the floor and then dance upon it - just the way he did yesterday.

She saw him pull Kleenix's, one after the other, out of the box and smile ever so sweetly and mischievously, as he drop them to the floor - as he did just a few months ago. She saw him at just a few weeks of age as he sat in his car seat in the back seat of the rental car and she and his mom drove across the Navajo Reservation to introduce him to his other grandma and a host of aunts, uncles and cousins.

She saw him as they drove on to the Fort Apache Indian Reservation, and then how happy her own mother had been when infant Kalib met his only living great-grandparent.

She replayed scenes from his whole life thus far in her mind, right up to that moment when we stood outside the door to the birthing room and heard his first, beautiful, cry.

Next I drove up onto the campus of Alaska Pacific University, where I saw these children, gathered in a circle.

I then returned to ANMC, parked the car, and headed toward the building. There is a children's playground just outside the door to the emergency room, where I would enter the hospital. I saw a small child climbing into the slide, helped by his Dad.

The small child's mother scolded the dad. "He's not going to like it!" she warned. "He's going to be frightened." Just the same, the dad gave the small child a shove and down into the tube he disappeared.

His mother readied her hands to catch him.

Then the small child began to scream. He had gotten stuck, somewhere in the darkness within the tube.

So the dad climbed in, to see if he could unstick him.

The small child got the hang of it and came out with a smile on his face. Now the Dad was stuck. He could not go up. He could not go down. Why... look at the kid! It's my own grandson, Kalib! He had come to ANMC to greet his grandmother when she came out of the MRI tube. That must mean that the dad stuck in this tube... is my own son... Jacob.

Jacob wiggled a bit, and finally he slid out. Kalib headed back, ready to go again.

Margie had not yet exited her tube. I strolled through the hospital, looking at the art, reminded of what life was like in Alaska just a short time ago.

Finally, Margie hobbled out into the hallway and headed for the car. She did not know that Jacob, Kalib and Lavina were behind her.

"Kalib!" she squealed when she discovered them. "Thank you! You got me through the MRI. I kept seeing you in my mind and that's what got me through."

When we reached the car, Margie handed me her crutches so that she could climb in. Kalib took the crutches away from me and handed them right back to her. 

So she put them on the floor and then climbed in. Kalib was very pleased, for he knew that he had done something good for his grandmother.

Kalib, Jacob and Lavina then went off to do some house shopping. Margie and I met Melanie at the Title Wave Kaladi Brothers coffee shop, where we discussed the airplanes that fly over her new house, renovations that she wants to make, the dogs that come and pee in her yard, her cats and other important things.

It was even better than sitting in the car, eating hotdogs. It was, in fact, the most pleasant experience that I have shared with Margie since she got hurt, and all the more pleasant because Melanie was there, encouraging her mom not to be discouraged. "It will be better, soon," Melanie soothed.

It already seemed quite a bit better, although we did not know what secrets the MRI would reveal.

Shortly after we said goodbye to Melanie and began the drive back to Wasilla, we got a message that Margie's doctor wanted her to call, so she did. The doctor had taken a look at the MRI and had immediately discovered something the original x-rays had not. 

Margie did break a bone when she fell. Not her knee cap, but her femur, right on the outside where it meets the knee.

"Try not to put any weight on it," the doctor said.

We have yet to get a report on any ligament damage.

It still rains and as I sit here typing this on my computer, I hear the whistle of a train, passing by miles from here. It seems kind of odd, but sometimes when it rains around here, sound really travels.

Meagre berry picking expedition leads to magic moment between toddler, cat and the clouds

Melanie and Charlie came to visit Sunday and as we took a little ride, we drank coffee, listened to All Things Considered and then This American Life. Afterwards, I returned to my office, sat down and worked for a couple of hours on a project that has been vexing me. 

When I stepped back in the living room, Lavina had prepared dinner, but Melanie, Charlie and Royce were nowhere to be seen. "They went into the swamp to pick berries," Margie said from her position on the couch. So I ate my chicken and salad, grabbed my G10 pocket camera and then went out to see if I could find them.

I did, as you should be able to tell, even without me saying so.

They were about done but they had not done well, so Melanie tried another place, where she spotted a few. She had barely begun to pluck them when she swatted her face. Must have been a mosquito, but the mosquitoes are just about all gone now. 

Just a short time ago, one could barely have tolerated being where she is in this picture, because the mosquitoes would have been maddening. But their season is over, thank goodness.

As you can see, the berry picking was not good at all. Melanie figured it is because the swamp has pretty much dried. "Back when it was wet, there were a lot more berries," she lamented. You cannot even rightfully call it a swamp anymore. She wondered if the house wells were responsible. I don't think so.

Quite some time ago, some developers tore out the wettest end of the swamp and made a gravel pit out of it. The developers said that after they had taken the gravel they would make a nice lake of it for the whole neighborhood to enjoy, but, as developers so often do, they didn't. Now it is just an ugly, abandoned, gravel pit with some ugly pools of water in it. I think that is what dried up the marsh.

I knew that there was another reason Melanie and Charlie had found so few berries. For two days in row now, Jacob and Kalib have been out there picking and eating berries as though they were about to go out of season.

Speaking of those two, we heard some commotion so we looked, and here they came. With Muzzy.

Kalib left his Dad's shoulders so that he could pal around with Muzzy and Royce.

And then it was just Kalib, Royce, and grass going to seed.

 

Royce soon led Kalib to another spot, where they found an even taller blade of grass.

Kalib studies the grass.

And then he lays down upon Royce.

He soon spots an interesting cloud, and points it out. The cat does not care, but he cares about Kalib.

I think, perhaps, this was one of those magic moments of early childhood that, even if it may one day be forgotten, it will be felt for the remainder of Kalib's life, even when he is an old man.

Kalib, his head on the fur of a warm, tolerant, and loving cat, watching clouds drift through a clear, deep blue sky. Yes, this is a fleeting moment that is ever lasting.

And so passed this day, right here in Wasilla, Alaska.

What she has missed the most

Other than the pain, discomfort and immobility, the thing that has bothered Margie the most is the time that she has missed with Kalib. She had been his official babysitter up until she suffered her first injury in January, and then his parents had to enroll him in daycare, because she was in no condition to care for him.

Then, about a month ago, she had healed enough that she took over his care once again. And now he is back in daycare.

At least she can get out of bed now, and come to the couch and sit with him.

Even when she couldn't, I would be in the room with her sometimes after his parents came home. The door would be closed, but then we would hear his little feet running down the hall.

Margie would smile, big.

Perhaps she will never be his regular sitter again. He and his parents moved in with us about a year-and-half ago so that they could save some money while Jacob applied to the US Public Health Service Commission Corps and then waited to hear from them. It was a very long process and until it was over, there was no point in them trying to buy a house.

Right now, Jacob works directly for the Alaska Native Tribal Health Consortium as a civil engineer, but once accepted in the Corps, he would be subject to being sent anywhere in the world that the US operates health care programs, from Barrow to Afghanistan, maybe Guam.

Lavina was really hoping that he would be assigned to the Southwest. Flagstaff was the place she really wanted, because it is close to her home.

The assignment finally came - Anchorage.

Today, Jacob and Lavina went house shopping in Anchorage.

So, probably, by the time comes that Margie is again able to take care of little Kalib, he will be living in Anchorage with his parents.

Better that than Guam.

Not that I have anything against Guam. I am certain it is a nice place, but its a long way to have to go to see your grandson. It's a long way to have to go.

Anchorage is not.

That's hot chocolate that he's drinking there, by the way. His Auntie Lisa made it for him. That's her, sitting at the end of the couch, by Jim, the black cat.

I sure do love that cat.

I love them all.