As I drove to Madison late yesterday afternoon to see my brother Nathan for the first time since Saturday, I kept rerunning my dad’s voicemail to me from earlier in the day: “They had Nathan sitting in a chair for a couple of hours today, which is great – and they talked to him the whole time but didn’t get much back. If you could really try to get him talking tonight, that would be helpful on so many fronts.” But as I arrived at Meriter Hospital, it was with a sense of resolve laced with dread. I just couldn’t forget the image of how motionless and helpless he seemed just three days before, scarcely able to lift or move any part of his body. And our efforts to get him to say a single word – or just to produce a simple sound like “ah” or “ooh” met with complete defeat. So I hoped last night would be the night that the clouds finally parted, but I was not the least bit optimistic.
The moment I walked into Nathan and he caught sight of me, he sat up in bed (the first surprise of the night- he could not have done that three years) – lifted his sheet up (something else he could not have done) – and then began working furiously to loosen his restraints, astonishing me with both his strength and dexterity. (Saturday he had weakly pulled at the tubes and wires connected to him, but I never saw him go after the restraints. Without the ability to sit up, it would have been impossible.) I could scarcely believe my eyes, and asked him if he should be getting out of bed. He actually manage to swing one leg off the side of the bed as he looked at me and said something about needing to go to the bathroom – and he was so determined and also so matter-of-fact in his manner that I half-believed it was okay. Fortunately, two nurses materialized a few moments later, having observed the scene on their video monitors, and they gently but firmly put him back in bed.
It was only as I stepped out of the way to let them work that it slowly dawned on me …… Nathan spoke! And I understood him! In amazement, I asked the nurses if he had been talking, and they said that he had sort of said Yes and No and tried to say some other things that could not be understood, but this was a level of clarity which they had not yet heard from him.
When they left us alone, I decided to engage Nathan and try to ascertain just how much he could say – and his level of mental clarity, but by now Nathan was lying there in grim frustration, clearly unhappy with where he was. His eyes were firmly fixed on the TV hanging up on the opposite wall, showing the movie “Wolverine.” Not wanting to irritate him further, I decided to wait until the next commercial …. which came quickly. (Thank goodness he wasn’t watching “Wolverine” on PBS!) As the commercial began, I turned down the volume and asked him “how are you doing.” His reply, croaked but clear: “surviving.”
It was hard not to cry.
For joy.
At that point, I decided to give him the third degree by firing some of the same questions that dad said he had been asked earlier in the day, beginning with “do you know where you are?” Without a moment’s hesitation, Nathan replied: “the hospital.” That was big, because that’s often a key question to gauging someone’s mental clarity. Next question, also from what he had been asked earlier in the day, to no avail: What year is it? Without hesitation, he said “2013.” That was exciting. He also knew that the month was October, that my shirt is blue, and …. drum roll, please ….. that my favorite kind of music is opera! (That really made me smile!) But it wasn’t just that he knew these answers – because he had already answered most of these questions the other day with hand squeezes. But now, he could actually speak the answers. True, he wasn’t about to win any prizes for Outstanding Elocution, but given his current physical state (plus that accursed neck brace restricting his jaw) it was amazing he could make himself understood at all.
It was right in the middle of these questions/answers that dad called (he and Sonja were at a birthday party for one of her grandchildren) and it was thrilling to be able to share such good news with him. RIght after that, while Nathan was back watching “Wolverine,” I texted the news to Kathy (via Kate Barrow, since Kathy’s cell phone had died) – and then posted the news to my Facebook page. At that point, the excited responses and “like’s” came pouring in, and I read many of them to Nathan, including this post from our cousin Sara out in NYC: “Hooray!!!! Whoopee!!!!! Hallelujah!!!!!! Kisses and hugs to everyone!!!!!! What great news!!!!!!” (Isn’t Facebook amazing?!?)
The minute Steve saw the news on Facebook, he was calling me to learn more – and we ended up putting both his phone and mine on Speaker so Steve and Scott could talk with Nathan …. and lo and behold, they could hear Nathan and understand him. It was nothing short of thrilling. Next, I placed a call to Randi, who had not seen the news on FB and was delighted to hear what had happened- and even more delighted to hear Nathan’s voice with her own ears. (Too bad the rest of the Spencer-Bergs were out and about and not able to join in the festivities.)
And now the funniest moment of the evening – but I tell the story fully mindful that folks from both sides of the political aisle have been offering prayers for Nathan, so I hope you’ll enjoy this story regardless of where your own preferences lie. As I hung up the phone with Randi, I asked Nathan who he wanted me to call next ….. and with a twinkle in my eye, I asked “Governor Walker?” You need to know that Nathan is one of the most ardent democrats I know; he has participated in the demonstrations at the Capitol and was part of the team gathering signatures for the recall…. so I was suggesting something completely ludicrous. Nathan heard that and immediately raised his right hand in the air and clenched it as a fist- and then went one further and raised his middle finger! You need to know that I do not approve of such gestures- and the only time I’ve ever given the finger to anyone was with Marshall back in college…. when every so often, in mock fury, we would “give the finger” to each other by sticking a big yellow highlighter between our knuckles and flash it at the other person. (Gosh, I hope that didn’t count!) Anyway, this was a truly comical moment – and if there’s anything that sent the clearest possible signal that Nathan is on his way to a full recovery, it was this moment when we got a taste of his sense of humor and his passion.
One more thing. Right after Nathan told me he was in the hospital, I asked him if he knew the name of the hospital- and he did not (even though he has been told any number of times.) So I told him he was at Meriter, and asked him to try and remember that. Maybe fifteen minutes later, I asked him for the name of the hospital, and he thought for a few moments before saying “I don’t know.” I reminded him that he was at Meriter, and then added “it’s just a few blocks from where you live.” Twenty minutes later, I asked him again for the name of the hospital, and I could see him trying to conjure up the name but to no avail – and I reminded him once again that he was at Meriter. He immediately said “it’s a few blocks from where I live” — as if to say that while he couldn’t quite come up with the name of the hospital, he remembered something! That made me smile. And I smiled even more widely fifteen minutes later, when he remembered the name Meriter – and fifteen minutes after that again. I guess I was remembering a moment from an ER episode where Dr. Greene suffers brain damage from a brutal assault, and they only realize how serious it is when he displays serious short term memory loss. So I guess I wanted to know that Nathan’s brain was capable of retaining short term memories – and it seems to be. Call it a quiet but perhaps significant victory.
I should be clear- despite our euphoria over Nathan’s ability to speak, it was not a night for confetti and brass bands, at least as far as Nathan was concerned. He is unhappy to be where he is …. and one can hardly blame him, since he’s flat on his back, in restraints, wearing an uncomfortable neck brace, connected to all kinds of tubes and wires including a feeding tube up his nose, and a catheter connected to you-know-where. He’s thirsty and weak and frustrated. But he is alive. He is getting better. And at long last, he can tell us where it hurts, what he wants, that this situation stinks ….. he can exchange wisecracks with the nurses ….. he can be Nathan again.
Thanks be to God.