Just want to share a miracle we have
just experienced with the other Blue, or Gold
Star Mothers. My oldest son was disabled from trauma before he could
serve. We have been writing about ways to cope with the disabilities TBI,
PTSD and other injuries bring
because we have been dealing with them a long time. Most of the males in my
family and my husband’s have served. I have one
son serving now. No matter what the cause traumatic brain injury or post-traumatic stress cause similar
problems.
I had watched my son struggle to
walk for many years. My son John’s hip was smashed, arthritis had set in and he
had to swing his leg and see- saw back
and forth to walk. His head, back, wrist
and knee were also injured. I had taken
him to doctors for years and they gave
him cortisone injections in his back and
knee. He had to drag his right leg for decades. Finally I said “ This isn’t
working please look at his hip.” The doctor X-rayed his right hip and said “ That needs to be
replaced.”
We
began the process to get his hip replaced. John was concerned because his abuser had
broken his back decades ago then had it operated on in Fargo, North Dakota
while making sure the process was as
miserable as he could make it. He took John to an elderly Dr. Kosi who may have
never done back surgery before. He told John he looked it up in a book. John’s emotional state with flashbacks to the surgery in Fargo was a
concern.
Mothers are aware what their child is feeling no matter how old they
are. He was afraid to have the surgery done. We relied on
the unique resources we have with our church.
I put his name into our Las Vegas Temple. Everyone who
goes there for the two week
period prays for those on the prayer roll. The missionaries for our ward came
for lunch and gave John a special blessing that all would go well with the
surgery. We have four doctors in our neighborhood ward. Our Bishop is an
anesthesiologist that John knows well and
trusts.
We were lucky to get an outstanding
orthopedic surgeon. He considered our request to have our Bishop administer the anesthesia but
really preferred to use his own service.
He was reluctant to tell a mother no,
so he sort of side stepped that issue, leaving us to believe our Bishop would be there. Our Bishop understood but knew how important
it was for John to feel relaxed with someone he trusts during the surgery. John
asked me several times “Will the Bishop be there? Will he make sure I don’t
feel a lot of pain and won’t die?” I reassured him each time that he would be in good hands.
They called from the hospital and moved the surgery up an hour. Our Bishop Had put in the request to be John’s anesthesiologist and I was told he would be but the confirmation through the offices
never came. Doctor Messina cared enough about John to arrange his schedule so
he could be there just in case he was finally called. The
Orthopedic surgeon the best in the area
came to talk to us before the surgery and said our doctor was
unavailable and his guy would be
there. Still not wanting to confront an
anxious mother. Our faithful Bishop texted me that he was in the hospital waiting to see if he could come.
When the orthopedic surgeon’s regular
guy came to talk to John about going to sleep. John asked “Where is my Bishop
he promised to be here.” I told
the doctor “ You know John has PTSD from an
awful surgery in North Dakota. Look at his back. The scar goes from his right shoulder to his waist on the left.
They had to remove two ribs that were
crushed from the back . Step mother kicked them in.” “That’s quite a scar.”
the doctor said. Now I had his attention. “What happens when he has an episode?” the
young man asked. I choked up, that
doctor disappeared and our Bishop appeared to put John at ease. He was grinning from ear to
ear as he was wheeled off to have his
hip replaced. It was a true miracle I am truly grateful for.
Back
in his room he was doing well and my husband and I left for the evening.
I had given his room number and how to reach him to his brothers. One of
them gave that information to my sister.
Both his
brothers called to wish him a speedy recovery. The phone rang again. John answered. “Who is this?” “ Someone you don’t remember. I’m your
father.” was the reply. The man who had abused him for so many years thought he
had given John so much brain damage that he couldn’t remember him or the horrific abuse. It is true with frequent and
severe traumatic brain damage it
is impossible to remember things or organize your thinking. The migraine
headaches and all the other pain cloud your memory and make it difficult to
think. Then the abuser can take more
advantage of the victim. John
remembered how he had been hurt. How his
father had put him in the back of a pickup after the surgery and drove around
on the dirt roads so John slammed against the sides of the pickup box again and
again. Then he sprayed John down with a hose and left him in the pickup box. Then went in to have coffee with friends while John
sat there freezing in northern Minnesota.
His grandfather saw it happen, but no one there helped him or reported his
father. He thought he had damaged him so
much as he said “He wouldn’t be any good to anyone, not even himself.” His father also told him then “ I give you
just enough food to stay alive nothing more.”
During this call
hours after John’s hip was replaced
John’s sperm donor demanded money from him and told John he was
coming to Nevada and California to see
his sons. John got frightened and hung
up.
When the ward missionaries came to see him in the morning he
just kept saying he had to leave the hospital. When I got there he was agitated
but didn’t tell me what happened. I had to stay there sleeping on the cot to
keep him there long enough to complete that day’s therapy and be discharged 51
hours after his surgery. He was supposed
to be there another day. They were
concerned about John and came to the house to see him again.
The
last time the caller had seen John was 25 years ago. When he tried to get him in Brainerd State Mental Hospital.
The psychiatrists said John didn’t belong there but his father had made
arrangements for it to happen. Luckily I found out, battled for him in court and took John home with me.
He saw John and my other sons 20 years ago when he and his wife snuck into my home in California
when they knew from my sister, my
husband and I were in Minnesota for my class reunion. He was so busy thinking
he was impressing my sons by buying them a meal and flashing $100.00 bills, that he probably didn’t
realize they knew one meal
was the only money he ever spent
on them. The boys could see through him and told me he was an “Ass Hole”.
He didn’t know that I
had been working with John every way I
could to promote mental health and healing. My husband and I gave John decent medical care and medication,
healthy food, rest, socialization and love. Everything I could do as a mother,
special education teacher and counselor I did for John. He went from a scared vegetable to almost a normal man. Now being able to walk normally
would enable him to feel more like a man. Nothing short of another miracle.
If you could see the difference in my son it would encourage your commitment to your child’s healing and
faith that healing will happen. It takes
work, time and patience but it is possible.
I normally don’t talk about our personal problems in my
blog. Thought maybe you can
feel relief because your children don’t have a persistent
psychopath after them all their lives. I
want you to feel your child is a hero not a victim. You just have to believe you can make a major
difference in helping your child with TBI
and PTSD because you can.
My
son healed well, is
doing fine in physical therapy. The orthopedic surgeon was so pleased with
his progress. He showed us an X-ray of
his hip before and now. The doctor and I wondered how John walked at all with
that seriously damaged hip. We said “No more Igor walking, he is walking tall.” He demonstrated his walk for the doctor.
He was delighted said we were the best patients he had all day.
John and I told him how much we appreciated what he did for him.
We are so thankful he is able to walk. I had to share the story with you. Our
injured children need us to be advocates for them.
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