The Long and Winding Road...

The road back from a coma is an endless one.

We were in Disney from January 9th until January 18th. We flew home in a snowstorm and when we arrived in NY we discovered our limo driver left us a message that said, the weather is too bad so I am not picking you up.

We found a van that was going our way and we piled in at 10pm. The ride home was long and freezing and treacherous but we made it home before midnight.
I walked in the door, unpacked my bag into the washing machine, washed my clothes, repacked them and waited at the door by 3:30am.

I got on a 6am flight pack to Reno. I was so anxious to get back to the hospital, back to my sister and my Tizzy.

So I fly back to Reno with the kabillionaire boss and two friends of Tizzys. The doctor suggested anyone who could come should. He thought the stimulation would be good for Tizzy. At least that is what he said. I think he thought Tizzy wasnt ever coming out of the coma and he wanted people to say goodbye.

I get to the airport after we change flights, I think in Chicago. We arrive in Reno about 10am Reno time. I rent a car and drive back to the medical center.

Thank god you are here my mother says to me. We really need you. I knew they did which is why I had to come back.

After 1o days, Tizzy is still in a coma. He has opened his eyes once or twice. The nurses were so amazing. They took my sister out for smoothies and held her hand every step of the way. Every hour on the hour they came in and pinched Tizzy on the chest and said " Tizzy if you can hear me squeeze my finger, can you hear me Tizzy, Merry is here with the baby and you have to come back to us.

Every hour, 24/7 for the entire time he was in ICU. It probably made the difference.

I think this all sounds so confusing. I am trying to put this into some sort of organizational pattern so you can see how this all went down.

Tizzy was in the accident. We fly out. He is in a coma. I leave for Disney, I come back from Disney. He is still in a coma.

The nursed physically move him from place to place, I guess for lots of reasons, to keep his muscles from atrophying. They sit him in a chair. It is painful and pathetic to watch.

He sits there, eyes closed. They hand him a brush and say "Tizzy brush your hair" He sits there. They pick up his hand and make him brush his hair. My sister cries, is he ever going to get better.

This goes on and on and honestly I do not remember the exact moment when things got better. But they did. They got better and he opened his eyes and he couldnt speak. He couldnt feed himself. He was completely helpless.

The doctors said he was a medical miracle. He shouldnt be alive. We wondered if he would ever be the same. They didnt know.

So began the long recovery. He couldnt speak but when my sister sang him a song from their wedding from Aida, he sang back the next line. ????
He cried all the time and then at some point started cursing inappropriately. I would hold up my keys and say what is this. He would make a motion to put the keys in the ignition and then say "pencil".

His brain was damaged. It was the first time we ever heard the term Traumatic Brain Injury. We wanted to take him back to NY because my sister was getting too pregnant to fly and we wrongly thought he would get better care in NY than in Reno.

Physically he was improving everyday. His atrophied legs were getting better with physical therapy. He was learning to hold a fork and to change the TV with the remote. He relearned to use the bathroom on his own. This was extremely painful for my sister and his dad would often help him and then scream "yeah, tizzy took a dump on the terlet" It was the most excrutiating weeks of my life.

Mentally, things were bad. I would show him pictures of my kids everyday and say who are they. He would say "those are my kids" and I would say, you have kids? and he would say "well they are like my kids"

He retold bizarre stories as they came into his head. One terrible day, my sister and I arrived at the hospital and the aid in the room said, did he have a brother who drowned in his backyard pool?? Tizzy looked up at Merry and said, Merry, my little brother Donald died. It was like he was reliving the moment just as it may have happened over 23 years before. His 3 year old brother drowned in their backyard pool. this family has had more trauma than you could ever imagine.

My sisters company hired a plane to take us back to NY. We flew back with an appointment to take him straight to the Traumatic Brain Injury ward at Southside hospital.

You know what ? I cant do this anymore. Right now I need to take a break from this. I am tired and overwhelmed and I need to talk about something else. I will come back to this eventually but I must go now.

Just an end note to this. Merry and Tizzy are going to Disney in September. I hope they have a better time than I did the year we almost lost Tizzy. I am sure they will.