And it’s another beautiful sunny day here on the ridge.
This next excerpt was written spring, 2011, and describes the summer, 2010.
Those first few days in early July, 2010 were a blurred, chaotic mess of emotions that I had never experienced. I wanted everyone around me to know how bad it was, but I think that most of all, I showed them how unprepared I was for the rest of my life.
Oh how true those words are.
July 7, 8, 2010
I stumbled around the house, crying and in a perpetual state of shock for the next couple of days. I don’t remember too much of those 2 days, except that I was fully reliant on my wife. I could not do anything, and fully expected the rest of my life to be like that. I must have seemed like a lost puppy.
We were in constant contact with my parents and siblings. I don’t know what I would have done with out them. Without my wife. She was, and has been incredible. I know that I am not the easiest person in the world to live with. I can’t imagine what her mind was going through those first few days, but I know that by me being totally helpless, well, it couldn’t have helped in the least.
Topping off all of what went on in Boston was the fact that while I was in the hospital, I was finding out that the health insurance that I had purchased just a couple months before, was only for accident coverage, and not for illness. This was solely my own fault, seeing as I am the one who bought the policy. I was looking to save as much money as possible. I was informed in front of a hospital room full of people that my coverage did not cover anything that I was having done. My heart sank and it just added to all of my confusion.
Well, there I was, stumbling around the house for 2 days. Completely oblivious to anything else in the world that was going on, I was wrapped up in a blanket of turmoil that I couldn’t escape from. It was a living hell that I was sure would never end. Perpetual torment and complete anguish. I felt like I was stuck in hell, and I was pulling everyone around me down with me. I knew it, and didn’t like it, but I couldn’t control it.
My wife Lynne had been in contact already with State and Federal offices to find out what we needed to do to get all of our collective ducks in a row. Lynne was somewhat familiar with the agencies, and that helped a great deal. I will continue to tell you that if not for her, I have no idea where I would be, nor do I like to think about it. Thank you god for bringing her into my life.
The next day, Thursday, was going as screwed up as the few days prior to that day. I sat in the living room all morning, crying and listening to Lynne working on the computer. I got a phone call from one of the doctors in Boston who told me of a procedure that involved a hyper-baric chamber process. I had been told a little about this while I was in Boston, but they told me that the chance of having anything positive come out of any treatments was poor at best. I was in the mind set that anything was better than nothing. I was also in the mind set that there had to be something that would reverse the damage done, and that I would have my sight, or some of it, restored. There just had to be something that would make this hell go away. This couldn’t be the rest of my life, could it?
The doctor from Tufts told me that there were a couple hospitals in Maine that had these chambers and that he was in touch with them. He was trying to have them call me and set some treatments up. My mind was racing like hell. He told me that there was a chance that they would refuse the treatments because of the slim chance of any benefit from them. He also said that the best results had occurred from these treatments with the affected person receiving the treatments within 24 to 36 hours of the initial trauma. I didn’t care about all of the details. All I knew was that I would do anything to be able to try. Anything.
A few hours passed from morning to afternoon. It seemed like an eternity. Once again, my mind was like a race horse cut loose in a pasture. From here to there, it was bouncing all over the place. Uncontrollable at best.
I did finally get a call from St. Joseph’s hospital in Bangor that afternoon on the 8th of July. The call came in around 2 P.M. and the director of operations at the center told me that I needed to come in that afternoon as soon as possible to receive a treatment. She told me also that the chances of any positive outcome were very slim, but I didn’t hear a word of it. I was talking to her as I was smoking a cigarette outside in front of the garage. I hung up the phone with her, looked at Lynne through the kitchen window and gave her the thumbs up sign. I walked into the garage and fell to my knees, crying and sobbing like a baby. Like a blind baby. I was overcome with emotions. A full spectrum of emotions all at once. I felt so damn good and relieved and a sense of exhaustion was starting to take hold of me. I think that right there I knew that from then on I was in God’s hands, and it was up to him. All I needed was the strength to get through it all.
A lot of my old AA sayings came into play. Turn it over, let go, Let God, the serenity prayer. The first three steps probably the most, I can’t, He can, I will let Him. The slogans raced through my head over and over.
And there we were, my wife and I, on our way to St. Joe’s hospital in Bangor.
To be continued…