I am writing this during the dress rehearsal for the Choral Arts Society’s opera gala concert, for which I’m singing several taxing and challenging scenes – which normally would be an entirely joyous undertaking for me. But while my mind and voice are here, contending with the challenges of Verdi, Gounod, Bizet and Puccini and exulting in the pleasure of collaborating with such talented singers, my heart is somewhere else …. and most of you know full well exactly where: in the intensive care ward of Meriter Hospital in Madison, where my youngest brother – Nathan – is making a slow, torturous recovery from a very serious head/brain injury.
One thing that is so bewildering about this is that we really don’t know exactly what happened to Nathan to cause this injury. We just know that Saturday night, right around midnight, an ambulance was summoned to downtown Madison because my brother was found on the ground- unconscious- and within twenty minutes of being brought to nearby Meriter Hospital, he was undergoing emergency surgery because life-threatening swelling in his brain. (A 3 X 3 inch patch of his skull was ultimately removed to relieve the pressure.) He survived the surgery, but was left in what amounted to almost an induced coma – rendered unconscious by heavy sedation so his brain would have an opportunity to recover from its grievous injury.
That was Saturday night. But the only people who knew this had happened to Nathan were the strangers who were caring for him. No one who knew or loved Nathan had any idea this had happened to him until 3:30 Monday afternoon. That was when the hospital finally called my dad to inform him that Nathan was in Intensive Care. (Nathan had nothing in his wallet that indicated who should be contacted on his behalf in the event of an emergency. Only when they accessed his full medical records at University Hospital did they have any idea who to call and how.) Of course, dad and Sonja were there as soon as possible- and by the next day, Matt & Randi & I had converged there as well, to participate in what has amounted to an anxious and frustrating waiting game. Of course, we were there only for a bit; for dad and Sonja, who live in Madison, this has been a long and relentless gauntlet. Fortunately, our dear family friend Willie was able to come down from the Twin Cities for a couple of days – and my brother Steve flew in yesterday afternoon from Philadelphia. And by midday tomorrow, the entire immediate family will there together in that hospital room – waiting for the moment when Nathan opens his eyes.
It was shocking to get that first phone call from Sonja, informing me about Nathan’s situation- and shocking to see his broken, swollen face for the first time – lying motionless, hooked up to a ventilator. But I think the most shocking moment for me was when we went through Nathan’s belongings and found the shirt he had been wearing when the ambulance picked him up – a bright red shirt which I suspect he chose because it was homecoming weekend for the Badgers. But that shirt was now in tatters, cut or torn by the paramedics who worked on Nathan, a vivid symbol of Saturday night’s horrifying scene.
But it’s also been a week of hope …. of encouraging signs … and the inspiring, attentive and skillful care of Nathan’s caregivers. And there was the spectacular moment which happened yesterday when someone said loudly into Nathan’s ear that dad and Sonja and Willie were there with him …. and Nathan managed a weak but unmistakable wave. It was the clearest sign yet that Nathan is still in there somewhere, waiting to reawaken. As I write this, Nathan is off of the ventilator altogether- and we have every hope that he will soon be conscious and with us again.
As difficult and frightening as this has been, we are amazed and overwhelmed by how much love and encouragement we have been given. I posted something about this on Facebook Monday night, and within an hour I had heard from over 70 Facebook friends – and by the middle of the next morning, the number had grown to more than 100. (My brother Steve, whose Facebook friends number in the thousands, heard from even more people.) It’s not that anyone was able to say anything that made it all go away – but just knowing that we weren’t going through this alone made a huge difference for the better. And for me personally, I will never forget the sweet concern of those Carthage colleagues and students who took the time to ask about Nathan – and asked how I was doing, too. And I am so grateful for all I had to keep me busy this week …. several interesting interviews, a bunch of voice lessons, church choir rehearsal, Beauty and the Beast rehearsals …. all which were ways for me to burn off at least some of my intense anxiety which I think would otherwise have eaten me alive. And this opera concert, too, is a chance to step away from the worry for at least a few minutes — although the worry is never far away.
So we continue to wait for that glorious moment when Nathan opens his eyes again …. which of course will mark just the beginning of a long, difficult journey back from such a devastating injury. But unlike the first forty hours of this ordeal, when none of us who love Nathan even knew that this had happened, we are with him now – either in person or in spirit, and ready to do whatever we can to let him know that he is loved and not alone. I keep thinking about something that my sister Randi had the presence of mind to do Tuesday afternoon while the rest of us were kneading over our worries and questions. Randi took paper and magic markers and began making signs to put up within Nathan’s line of sight – in the event that he awoke when none of us happened to be there in the room. The main sign, in big, bold, red letters, said Nathan- Remember that you are loved. Another sign bore the names of various people who had either stopped by the hospital or expressed their good wishes and concern in one way or another – just another way for Nathan to know that he is not alone.
And in moments like these, I’m not sure there’s anything more important to know.
Pictured above: This wrist band was among Nathan’s personal effects at the hospital.