The Telephone Call

At some point when Mickey was out musing, practicing walking, a  new concept developed in his shattered brain. I think we'll have to agree with tongue in cheek, it was quite a genius idea. His plan was to establish a boxing ring adjacent to the hospital. 

 

“There would be, an ever vigilant staff team present from the hospital for every match.  If any boxer suffered a head injury or TBI Traumatic brain injury, as the result of a pummeling.  After the necessary emergency attention was administered, they could just roll him over to the hospital entrance.” There would be no better place for them. 

 

When Mickey was no longer physically restrained due to his violent behavior, he moved into the 5th stage where he was becoming increasingly inappropriate such as grabbing the nurses’ breasts and clothing. 

 

I am unaware of his being verbally inappropriate. He wasn't talking much yet. That glorious surprise was soon to be revealed. The nurses always had to hold the phone up to his ear so his wife, in particular, could talk to him. 

 

She would talk to him on his phone without expecting any response. No one on the staff had heard him speak as yet. This time was different. The nurses put the phone up to his ear which he held on to it as usual. 

 

Out of the blue, Mickey began talking. His wife was stunned, it was the first time she'd heard him speak in months. This instilled courage in me and gave me renewed hope for the possibility of calling my brother. 

 

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. I mourned, weeping for everything, the losses and tragedy of the story played out in the movie. But mostly, for the deep chasm created between my brother and me. 

 

I was most stricken when I called Mickey at his treatment center. I introduced myself, and described our relationship of brother and sister. My stomach dropped as I continued my abbreviated conversation with the stranger on the other end. He did not remember who I was.   

 

I returned to my mowing and shortly after, cut the motor and collapsed to the ground wracked with tears, with great anxiety and a sense of abandonment.  My brother did not even remember who I was. I reflected upon the adventures we had together and how I was always his protector. I was shattered at the reality I did not, nor could I do anything to protect him.

 

I know people meant well, but I found it difficult when they’d ask me day after day how he was. All I could say was, “There’s no change yet.” I hope none of you have had to continually answer with the same futile phrase about a loved one. 

Since that incident, I am continuously conflicted when any of my friends have announced they have 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. I apologize for not appearing vigilant, concerned, and caring. I explain to them what drives me.

 

When I am out walking, I am brought to wonder how Mickey learned to identify trees by studying the spring colors of the leaves. I've learned to identify the name of the tree by studying the fall leaves, but not the spring ones which are colored differently than fall leaves.

 

He said, “I had to learn that technique to be able to direct the tree growers, planters and tree cutters where and how and which trees to attend to under the power lines. He always was concerned for the lines. If not monitored, the trees would grow too tall causing interference for the lines. Fortunately, he had a wonderful relationship with the tree men.

He had a wonderfully full life before his accident at age 40. He began college, studying math in preparation for engineering, much disdained by his father.  He found himself overqualified mathematically. But alas he graduated in the class of 1970.   

 

To keep his hand in the engineering business, he procured a job surveying properties.  As I listen to what the surveying task involves, I am greatly impressed. As Mickey figured the dimensions of the specified property, he needed to use the survey data he collected, whereby creating a property map to be used in mortgage and realty, and right of way issues.

Foxie was his mentor and he gave him the right to direct and guide Hank. Mickey was on the back of a green 1970 Chevy pickup, broadcasting gravel onto the substation yard for flood protection.

 

"Mike could work on preparing the renewed land." Foxie directed him. He had to plant 8 trees in a triangular pattern creating a shield on all sides. 

 

During another incident, after doing some cutting and clearing, a property owner complained. "I do not want the right of way that wide open. I was using it as a privacy shield and now that's messed up. My privacy is violated." That didn’t bode well for Mickey.

 

As tree warden, Mickey had to handle these irate customers. His favorite saying he came up with was “danger is my business.” Tree men spent hours in danger. To secure himself he needed to find a tree to winch himself to be able to be dragged out of the area in case of emergency. 

 

He was afforded every opportunity to learn all required skills and did have a section of instructions on climbing skills though he did not use them.  As the manager of line clearance, he dealt with the tree men very differently than some other leaders might. He prides himself with the dignity he showed them.

 

He went to several informative conferences where tree huggers with guns were cautiously discussed. The theory of line clearance underlined providing a safe and efficient procedure, at a minimum cost to the customer, the company & environment.