Maria Isidoro Schalalci, a petite mail-order bride from the Orient, is the second wife of Albert Schalaci, a lanky, stubborn fanatic, who has kidney failure, but refuses to accept the standard form of medicine. Explanations, constant urgings and threats, fail to dissuade him from his unorthodox ways and belief. He insists on his own herbal remedies with near-deadly consequences. Despite his curmudgeonly personality, however, she stays with him, perseveres, and tolerates his shenanigans. Only through her vicarious sacrifices, determination, and tenacity, her husband escapes the inevitable. The willow tree by the pond, her retreat for prayers, meditation, and a hiding place from her obnoxious husband, helps maintain her sanity. This story, although a dramatization, is based on the author's professional knowledge and personal experiences with renal failure and its treatment. It portrays patients with chronic kidney disease (CKD): the etiologies, symptomatology, physiology, processes, and benefits of the accepted treatment options. It is an aid to the understanding of the plight of patients and families with CKD: their miseries, frustrations, disappointments, and the successes and failures in the quest for compatible kidney donors. The author aims to give the readers and the public a better understanding of the disease's processes and its ultimate remedy, kidney transplantation, and hopes to erase the clouds of doubt, skepticism, and fear. Life is sweet, help the unfortunates.

The Solace Tree

By Frank Tejada

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2009 Frank Tejada
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4490-2274-7

Contents

Chapter I 911...........................................1Chapter II Visitors......................................16Chapter III Treatment Recommendations.....................24Chapter IV The Solace Tree...............................37Chapter V Diet..........................................57Chapter VI Mysterious Letter.............................68Chapter VII Relapse.......................................73Chapter VIII Back to ER....................................82Chapter IX Dialysis......................................93Chapter X The Family....................................129Chapter XI The Pager.....................................143Chapter XII The Donors....................................160Chapter XIII The Other Woman...............................176Chapter XIV Distant Quest.................................209Chapter XV Second Letter.................................224Chapter XVI The Cynics....................................239Chapter XVII Captive Audience..............................245Chapter XVIII Birthday......................................253Chapter XIX Surgery.......................................269Chapter XX "First Pitch".................................278Afterword...................................................289

Chapter One

911

A loud crashing thud and sputtering noise-as if hundreds of marbles rained from the sky-startled Mrs. Maria Schalaci from a sound sleep.

She sprang out of bed, rubbed her eyes, and uttered, "Wha ... what happened? Tornado? A bomb? Oh, my gosh!" She gasped and listened. Had that rotten tree branch, precariously dangling for some time, finally broken and fallen on the roof of her house? She turned on the lights but failed to see anything amiss inside the room-except that her ailing husband was not in bed. Her hurried search found him in a prone position, immobile on the bathroom floor. Plastic medicine containers and toiletries were scattered on the floor, the contents of a wooden cabinet he had toppled on his way down. She checked his pulse with her shaky fingers but was unsure of what she felt.

"Albert! Albert! Albert!" she screamed shrilly. She shook his shoulder vigorously, but he did not respond with even a moan or muscle twitch. She contemplated doing CPR but hesitated because she was not sure how. To do so haphazardly was impossible or disastrous. She had seen the procedure (although decades ago) in the orphanage where she stayed. Her best friend, who had a congenital heart disease, fell unconscious by her side. She was quickly ushered out of the scene while the personnel did a CPR, but unsuccessfully. She also saw the CPR procedure demonstrated once on television.

She cried, sobbed, and screamed his name repeatedly as she tried to flip him over. She strained and grunted, her tears dripping all over her husband while she unsuccessfully tried. For someone as tiny as she was (five feet tall and 110 pounds), to turn her six-foot tall, 210-pound husband from a prone to supine position was like rolling over a big, heavy log within a cramped space.

"Albert! Gising ka! Gising!" she screamed. Wake up! She pressed hard on the pain spots she learned from her school years-on the hand-web between the index finger and thumb, and the bone edge of the brows, but there was not even a slight muscle twitch.

"Oh, my God, he is in coma! Dear Lord, please don't let him die!" she sobbed.

She ran next room and dialed the telephone.

An operator answered. "Hello! May I help you?"

"Dios ko! Saklulo! Saklulo!" Maria screamed and sobbed. "My God! Help! Help!"

"Ma'am, please calm down. Take a deep breath and tell me the problem, slowly and in clear English."

"I'm very sorry. My husband fell unconscious inside the bathroom! Please help! I think he has a heart attack or a stroke! He is unresponsive. What shall I do? Oh, my God! Please help me!"

"Is he breathing? Did you check his pulse?"

"I think, but I'm not sure," she stammered and sobbed. "I'm sorry; I do not know what to do. Somebody, please help me!"

"I'll send an ambulance. What's your address?"

"Please hurry!" Maria screamed and sobbed at the same time.

"Stay with your husband until the paramedics arrive."

Maria knelt beside her husband, took the silver cross pendant of her necklace into her hands, and prayed silently. Periodically, she shook Albert's shoulder and called his name, checked his pulse, and placed her ear at his back and listened, but she was unsure of her findings. Instead, she heard her own heart beating hard and fast like a runaway bass drum.

What if he had a stroke, become a complete invalid in a vegetative state, or had a heart attack and died? She closed her eyes and clasped her hands together on her forehead. "Dear Lord, please help my husband. I beg Your kind heart to get him well and don't let him die. I would be at a loss without him. Please don't take him away from me. Although he is not an ideal husband, I think he has some good potential."

The wailing sound of an approaching ambulance broke the early morning quietness of the old section of St. Louis called Dog Town. Two paramedics in blue uniforms with Red Cross patches on their right shoulders got out of the ambulance. The tall and younger one carried a folded gurney, and the older, plump one, a red metal suitcase. Maria met them at the door and ushered them quickly to the bathroom.

The medics quickly assessed the condition of the patient and administered oxygen and intravenous fluids while Maria stood by the doorway, watching and wringing her hands incessantly. She sniffed frequently and wiped her eyes and nose with tissue.

"What's wrong with my husband? Is ... is he in danger of ...?" Her words trailed into deep sobs. "Is he going ... to make it?"

The tall medic replied, "We don't know yet, ma'am. What is his name? How old is he?" His questions were brisk, his job automatic, and focused.

"Albert Schalaci ... sixty-five." Her voice quivered.

"Is he a diabetic or epileptic?"

"I don't think so, probably neither."

"Has he fainted before?"

"Yes, but not this way." She dropped her shoulders and shook her head.

"What do you mean?" The medic said without removing his attention off his patient.

"When he was younger, he had indulged heavily in alcohol and usually passed out on the sofa, especially during weekends, but not recently, I think ..."

"Is he taking any medication? Is he under the care of a doctor for any illness?"

She blew her nose on the tissue and answered, "Well ... during the last several weeks, he developed gradual swelling of his legs and shortness of breath but refused to see a doctor. He takes care of his own health problems with his own herbal remedies, but I do not know the names. I am sorry."

"It's okay. We'll check later."

Maria clasped her cross pendant. "Mister, what do you think? Did he have a stroke or heart attack?" Her lips trembled as she wiped her tears.

"We don't know yet. He is still unresponsive and his blood pressure is low. We'll take him to Gateway Hospital for the doctors to give him a more thorough examination. Ma'am, don't worry; we'll do our best to help your husband." He gave Maria a placating smile.

The two paramedics loaded the unconscious, heavy man onto the gurney, secured him with leather...