There are eight stages to recovery from TBI or terminal brain injury. I will painfully enumerate them for you.  At first, the victim lies still, then there may be false hope when the victim responds to a hand squeeze by squeezing back.  In the third stage the patient becomes very agitated and moves around in the bed.  

 

Nike opened his eyes in this stage, about a month after the accident.  It was so eerie when he’d look right at someone like an infant who looks but doesn’t register seeing anything.  Shortly after, he was moved to Lewis Bay, a treatment center on Cape Cod where he spent the next 5 months.

  

How uncanny the dynamics, when a loved one is in critical condition.  Everyone reviews how significant their relationship is to the victim, as if it were a contest.  Who is the more important one?  A loving wife who had spent 14 years of her life with him?  A mother who bore him and had worried him into adulthood.  Or a sister who had been responsible for keeping him from all harm?

          

One grieving opens up another.  Watching the movie The Mission I witnessed the slaughter of humans and the death of music. I went out onto the back porch and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.  Another time that I was similarly stricken was when I called Nike at his treatment center and he didn’t remember who I was.

 

I had such a sinking feeling as I continued my abbreviated conversation with the stranger on the other end.  I returned to my mowing and shortly after, cut the motor and collapsed to the ground sobbing with great anxiety and a sense of abandonment.  My brother did not even remember who I was. I reflected upon the things we had done together, as recorded earlier.

 

I know people meant well, but I found it difficult when they’d ask me how he was day after day and all I could say was, There’s no change yet. I hope that none of you have ever had to do that to keep answering the same thing about a loved one, there is no change yet. Since this incident, I am continuously conflicted when any of my friends have had a loved one in critical health. I stand there unsure as to whether or not I should inquire of their loved one’s present condition.

 

Fortunately, Helen had gotten him into the rehab center before he went through the 4th and 5th stages.  He became so violent they had to medicate and physically restrain him.  Some people never move beyond this stage; they are stuck forever in rage.  There was a nursing home attached to Nike’s building where he would wander, setting off alarms, looking for “cutters” to snip the straps holding him in his wheelchair.

 

He had yet to learn to walk again. In Stages 6 and 7 the patient displays inappropriate behaviors, such as grabbing the nurses’ breasts. Three months had passed and the nurses were still holding the phone up to his ear so people could talk to him.  Everyone there was beginning to wonder if he would ever talk.  They had never heard his voice. One of these calls, Nike spoke for the first time while on the phone with Helen.

 

During the period in which he was unclear about what was real, he told me they had a boxing ring in the basement where they had competitions and if anyone got a head injury, then they’d just have to bring the head-injured victim up one floor for their rehabilitation.  He hadn’t lost his humor either. Because he was not allowed to leave the grounds, we ate his favorite ice cream, Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia, in the car parked up against a fence.

 

He kept repeating and laughing, “Go ahead and back up.” He's always been great at wordplay. We have a great time playing with words and imitating our childhood coach, Jonathan Winters. He's apt to call me seven times in the day,  I am unable to sum up the courage to always answer the phone.  When we do talk he's usually in a pretty good mood and it is a pleasant exchange. If not, I abbreviate our conversation and inform him I will be hanging up. We do have a little joke that goes with it If someone hangs up on another person they are pulling an O'Neill. My father and his sisters used to hang up on each other as adults.

 

Finally, after approximately 6 months, he reached stage 8 where he was ready to begin learning life skills.  We drifted in our relationship even after he returned home. He was very different with the sparkle in his beautiful blue eyes was replaced by an expression of startle and he seemed to be looking off in the far distance.  His wild side was gone leaving a very flat affect and monotone voice.  As his brain has healed and time has passed, we have become close again. It is different, but he is all the family I have.

 

When I wrote this 20-plus years ago, some new situations did not exist. He's been with a wonderful woman who has done her best to care for and nurture him. His brain has healed and he can remember more. He does have a new problem he has discovered with sequencing. He puzzles over how to attempt to take a shower. This is such a simple activity for us.  "Should I bring my clothes with me or leave them in my room?"

 

His girlfriend wrote steps down for him so that he would be able to follow the sequence. Tragically, he's also become more emotionally unstable. It's as if he is regressing to stage 4. It's so sad to see how he has become so frustrated and is becoming verbally abusive to his girlfriend. She says she loves him and wants to still care for him. She will eventually move to Alaska to live near her daughter and family.

 

I don't know what's going to happen,  I'm just beginning to question that whole thing.   I asked Nike what would happen when his girlfriend leaves and he has no one. He agreed he is very dependent upon her. I've got to broach the unpleasant topic to his 50 year old son.  Enough of that topic for now. This is an extremely painful chapter,