I never really know when I’ll get to post what I write.  It’s usually a couple of day’s worth of a minute here or there.  Mike is still charting high heart rate and blood pressure so as we await the OT for lunch, we took a few minutes for deep breathing and relaxation.  For me, a chance to write.

Since the accident, our relationships have been altered, our roles have changed and the Michael we knew is a memory.  The essence of Mike is still the same but for now, a passivity of sorts prevails.  The fragmented memory, the visual deficits, the physical changes and the mental clouding seem to pick away at the fire inside and he is uncritically accepting of his experience.  Not the Mike we know.  Michael was the typical first born “Type A”, always pushing, wanting and needing to be the best, look the best, date the best, wear the best, but never really understanding the self imposed pressure or what toll “the best” would take.   

The two brothers have always been different, yet alike in many ways.   Both loving and affectionate, both witty, intelligent, smooth talkers, just on different planes.   Nate the artist taking the safer scenic route, Mike the risk taker in the fast lane.  As our family evolves and we adjust to the changing course, Nathan who often looked to Mike to light the way, must now take the lead and become the light for his brother.  

Nathan writes when he can and every now and then leaves a journal at the house.  He has given me permission to read through his works, so I have the extreme privilege of seeing the inner most thoughts of this genius writer.  I’ve asked him on many occasions to share the poetry relating to his experiences with Michael but as with most artists, the standards Nate places on what he is willing to share is much greater than someone like me.  I not a writer.  I’m just the messenger. 

I’ll still work on getting the ok from Nate but for now, check out his new posting under “By Nate”.  Sitting on the couch visiting with Michael last night, Nathan spoke from the heart the way he does best…with rhythm and rhyme.

The third week at home draws us closer to real life, closer to the reality of the long term effects of TBI.  Sometimes the mind and body protect the soul, but Mike really has no awareness of the depth of the brain injuries he sustained.  Perhaps without the perceived limitations of TBI he is able to see the end in sight, make progress in learning how to learn, and accumulating the all those “normal” skills that are no longer coming naturally to him.  

Started this on Thursday, it is now Monday.  Mike did 10 push ups today!  He started on his knees for the first one and then his body took over the form it knew so well.  Up on his toes and he pumped out the other 9.  His arms shook, his face and neck pumped full of blood but that boy did 10 push-ups today.  His brain has convinced him that his right side is weak and cannot be trusted.  These push-ups today spoke louder than his brain and the two sides worked equally moving the weight of his body up and down, down and up 10 times.  Ten may not sound like alot but ten full body push-ups at this stage is huge.  Can you do 10 full body push-ups?

I sit here tonight listening to two of the loves of my life engage in conversation with perfect rhythm, feeding off each other.  Their dialogue witty and eloquent, their timing seamless and their hilarious banter make even the weakest jokes work.  Their love is like no other… I am so proud to be their mother.

Tuesday the 29th - Today Mike had a follow up appointment with Dr. Jebraili, his Neurosurgeon.  “OMG, who is the patient?   I asked my nurse, did he walk in here?  Is he talking?  Mike, I tell everyone, YOU are my miracle patient!”   When a neurosurgeon says you’re a miracle patient, it holds weight.

Mike also took a trip today to INOVA Fairfax Trauma ICU  and walked in to see the nurses and techs that took such wonderful loving care of him.  After ”wow! “, “amazing!”, “I can’t believe it!” and photos, we were off to the third floor to see the staff there and in the Neuro Observation Unit.  There were tears and more photos and it felt good to see how Michael and his progress touched them.  The hard work, the love and dedication of the medical staff at Fairfax Hospital will never be forgotten.  I’m sure they don’t often get a chance to see the results of their labor so it was a joy to walk in with Michael and to have the opportunity to say “thanks”.

I say it in the morning, I say it through out the day, it is something I can’t say enough…thank you, thank you, thank you.  To God, to the healers, to you…thank you.