I Want to go Home, Brain Fugue... 

    When Michael came out of his coma the first thing he said was, “Mom, I want to go home.” He said this repeatedly during his stay at the hospital.  This statement pulls me back. Woosh, to the first time I saw the Wizard of Oz. I loved it when it turned from black & white to color film. One of the witches was gone in flames and monkeys few in the forest.  In the movie Dorothy has one theme. “I want to go home.” Her new friends, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Lion, who needed courage, helped her on her quest to “Go home.” 

    After Mike was moved to the rehabilitation unit of the hospital he started having Sundowner Syndrome. This is the problem many long-term patients have where as soon as the sun goes down they exhibit unreasonable behavior. Mike’s greatest desire was just like Dorothy’s, to go home.  

    Mike became unreasonable in his demands to go home and would get out of bed without assistance. Not a good idea and danger of a fall when his balance is off.  The hospital got a “sitter” to help keep him in bed. Now this lady must have weighed next to nothing and was as useful as lips on a duck. She could not stop a flea from getting out of bed much less a 6’3 210# strong young man.  We asked for another bed to be put into the room We would stay the night to coax him back into bed. The bed was moved to block the door so he would need to climb over it to escape.

     At regular intervals during the night, Mike would sit up abruptly and start getting out of bed. Then he would slowly stand up on wobbly legs. With his IV was dangling and his brain-drain bulb would swing down next to his cheek as he swayed clutching the blankets. After he got his balance, he would shuffle to the door. Patrick would be waiting for him and would wrap his arms around him. He would start swaying and rocking, blocking the way to the door and say over and over, “I love you, your mom loves you, your family loves you, and we want you to get well so you have to stay until the doctor’s say you can leave.” Mike would beg to leave but soon his strength gave out and his legs would start to fold. Patrick would sit him down, and then lay him back in bed…until the next time when he would sit up abruptly…then the scenario would be re-played.

     I had stuffed this memory deep into my brain until one day about a year later when I was back teaching.  I had students at United Cerebral Palsy Institute. It was lunch time, and my students were in the dining hall assisting the patients to eat  All of a sudden one of the young boys who was very crippled, started to yell. I want to go home, mommy please take me home. 

    Until that time I had been pretty strong and somewhat brave during Mike's recovery, following and explaining the physiological implications to family and friends in a stoic fashion. But hearing those words found the crack in my armor and my heart broke...I was back experiencing the painful plea, "Please take me home."

    I began to cry and sob with the memory of those difficult days. I quickly left the room and after about twenty minutes of hiding in the bushes next to the building, I called my students together and dismissed them three hours early. My eyes were red and watery and not one asked why they had the afternoon off, and I never told them, or anyone else what happened that afternoon.

The picture above is 10 years later when Mike received his Master's Degree in Education.

 

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