The Against All Odds Thanksgiving

Ebony arrived in Newport Tuesday night, shortly after 9 p.m., greeted by a red fire engine, with its cherries popped, and three firemen standing in the middle of Gibbs Avenue, talking to my mother.

And this is how we began our Thanksgiving week in Rhode Island.

I got in Tuesday morning, following my Monday night shift, around 4. I was up for a little while then turned in. I got up at 9 a.m. Sun was already up, her mother that is, and sitting with Ebony, feeding her a little breakfast, some fruit, I think.

I was starving so I made myself a garbage plate of leftovers. A little ground beef, Kielbasa, diced red and white onions and an egg, fried in butter on a medium-high heat and served over toasted rye bread topped with cole slaw, pickles and mayonnaise: a deconstructed hamburger. It was so good: just hot, yummy and filling and just what I needed. For a few moments, everything was fine and it was going to be a great day.

And then the world turned black.

In Ebony’s current condition, her right leg is unresponsive and does not function. Where before the lumbar puncture, she could balance on the balls of her feet, like a ballerina and support herself on that side when standing up. Only weeks before that she was shuffling around with the walker, gliding along effortlessly like a figure skater.

Now, what I have learned is that she needs to be fully awake and alert in order to stand on her right leg. Coming out of a sound sleep, Ebony is bleary-eyed, groggy and nods off frequently. Trying to lift her only has her body slipping down in my arms and I desperately try to swing her to the wheelchair only to fail several times in row, after which I am sweating and need to sit myself.

This was one of those days. After some time and a few moments where I wished I had not eaten, I had managed to clean her up and get the pull-up adult diapers over her ankles and pull them up. I really hate calling them diapers, she is too genteel for that. I prefer the French, which is on the packaging for some reason. Her aunts have been participating from North Carolina, throughout this ordeal, shipping us things like this and I guess they order them from Amazon Canada. Instead of diapers, Ebony wears Les sous-vêtements pour incontinence, absorption maximale. Or, simply: French underwear.

Pulling her French underwear on while she’s laying down seems like it should be a piece of cake; but Ebony is gifted in a way that Nicki Minaj is gifted and as she is unable to prop herself up on her own, this turns the simplest-looking task into a conundrum better faced by Hillary Farr’s contractor on Love It or List It. It takes time and it also involves rolling Ebony forward, then back, and a lot of pulling and general disbelief. Just pulling on a pair of loose-fitting sweats is equally challenging and time-consuming.

Cleaned, dressed and still nodding off, her mother and I manage to get Ebony vertical and then seated snugly in her wheelchair. This has a lot to do with the fact that Ebony woke up briefly to the pulling and such, and managed to support herself on her left leg long enough for us to get her sorted out.

So, mission accomplished, and at now 1 p.m., I walked down to the car rental place.

We live way out in Queens, just off the Van Wyck, in an area that is filled with car dealerships and auto-body shops, near Lee’s Toyota. And near Lee’s Toyota is Enterprise car rental. I can walk there in 15 minutes. The problem was, since it is “a holiday week,” a lot of the cars were not ready on time, or coming from one place to another. The car I reserved was coming from the airport. I’m not entirely sure which airport, but it might as well have been Logan. My plan to get us on the road by Noon, 2 at the latest, was quickly dissolving.

I finally got the car, a 2018 Hyundai Santa Fe, which is a stylish SUV with all mod cons and plenty of room for three people including one with extra long legs, a wheelchair, a walker, a bunch of stuff and my bag of laundry that I have been neglecting that, when I carry it over my shoulder, probably makes me look like I’m shipping out to… well, Newport. Newport, Rhode Island was one of four Navy boot camps where enlisted men were sent during World War II. How appropriate.

I have never driven an SUV but quickly adjusted. I knew I wouldn’t find parking so I just drove up on the patio in front of the building and parked and hit the flashers. Went upstairs and started packing and when it was time to bring Ebony down, Taddeus, our tall Polish super, offered to help. At least I think he did because I have a lot of trouble understanding him. He loves Ebony, though, ever since she moved in. “Jet Blue! Jet Blue!”

We wheeled Ebony up to the front passenger side and on the count of 3, tried to lift her, then pivot her into the front seat. This did not go well and Ebony immediately went down on her legs, slipping from my arms until her ass was resting on the runner. Taddeus jumped in the back seat and helped pull her back up and after about ten or fifteen minutes of pulling and lifting and trying to maneuver her, we got her into the front seat, and I buckled her in.

Taddeus kept saying, “Oh my God. Oh my God.” He didn’t realize how much she’d declined since this began and I think he was truly sad. I was just wiped and relieved he was there and kept thinking about what might have happened if he had not been.

Soon, shortly before four o’clock, we were on the road. Everything I dreaded about driving North-bound along I-95 came true. All I wanted to do was beat the traffic but instead we schlepped along like an old dog all the way up to New Haven. It was excruciating. The only good thing was that we listened to the Coleman Hawkins birthday broadcast on WKCR, a marathon of the great jazz tenor sax player hosted by Phil Schapp, which kept my blood pressure down. Ebony woke up once we hit Connecticut and was in and out the rest of the way but I think she enjoyed the excitement.

After we got to New Haven I decided to test the powers of the Santa Fe and punched it to make up for lost time. We lost the KCR signal and soon were listening to Christmas music, courtesy of the syndicated John Tesh, on Lite Rock 105, Providence.

Ebony has suffered for 10 years of my adoration of the seasonal all-Christmas radio format and whenever we’re in RI for Thanksgiving and Christmas, it’s on. They play all the usual things and feature new music – Pentatonix – but over the years have also included music that would not be considered traditional Christmas music and this irritates me, because it’s all really, really depressing. Joni Mitchell’s “River,” Dan Fogelberg’s “Same Old Lang Syne” and the fucking “Christmas Shoes.” They won’t play Billy Squier’s “Christmas Is” or anything remotely heavy… also, they never play the good Johnny Mathis like “Calypso Noel,” but nevertheless, I tune in and Ebony tolerates it. She likes Nat King Cole and Dean Martin, though, so she hangs in there. Either way, we were playing Christmas music when we rolled in and saw the flashing red lights…

Mom decided that, since we do not have a wheelchair ramp, and Ebony needs assistance to walk, MY idea of calling in friends (and in one instance, a good friend said her father – an awesome guy to be certain – would come over and help), was insufficient and therefore called the Newport Fire Department. So, Peter Boyani and two of his best men were on hand to lift Ebony out of the Santa Fe and into her wheelchair, then lift the chair into the house and then still, lift her out of the chair and onto the couch. I couldn’t thank them enough and started choking up doing so.

It’s not perfect but I cannot bear the thought of putting her in some home or acute care facility and this is evidence of it. It is difficult, it is scary and not without event, but when she woke up Wednesday morning, I was right there at her side and she touched my hair and put her hand on my face and smiled.

She was pretty good Wednesday and I don’t know if it’s because she’s here and my Mom is doting on her while blithely challenging her cholesterol intake (“Do you want something to eat? I can make you a bacon butty with some potato chips on the side if you want? How about a Coke?) but she is livelier than she’s been in a while. I went out and ran errands – I got ham hocks and collard greens for Sundai who is making collard greens – and stopped at the Black Pearl to get clam chowder and I made three trips to two different Stop & Shops plus one to my arch-nemesis, Shaw’s; and finally one brief stop at Vicker’s Liquors because I am weak and terrible human being with an affinity for Italian wine and am going to have a glass for the first time since early September. 

I cannot say that I am relaxed but I can say that Ebony is surrounded by people that love her, entertain her and are spoiling her. It’s not an ideal situation but what is? I have promised myself I am going to focus on the positive and keep everyone’s spirits up as best as I can. I keep thinking of all of the amazing times I have shared with Ebony, many of them in Newport, and I could not be happier to be here.

With any luck, I am going to try to get Ebony out for a little bit tomorrow. We live around the corner from the crazy guy who has the insanely spectacular Christmas display in front of his house near Braga Park  so I think it might be nice for her to see as we’ve always stopped by to stare in utter bafflement and take pictures.

As with everything else, we’ll see.

Happy Thanksgiving~!