Sunday, October 30, 2016

Chronicles of a Baby Boomer - Family

I remember. After my accident. A few months. Going out to visit my kids. My daughter and her husband, Seeth, in Oregon.

They had spent a great deal of time by my side when I was in the hospital. A great deal. And when I came home, put back together piecemeal by the competent people at UMass Memorial Hospital. Kristin stayed with me for a few weeks. To keep a check on me. To look after. To make sure I was OK. To-Well, to be a daughter.

So. She went home and a couple of months later I followed her. They wanted me to come out and visit as soon as I was able to travel, so I did for a few weeks or so.

I slept on a couch in the living room. We watched movies together. I cooked dinners. And went to a park nearby and wrote my memoirs. Chronicles of an old guy with a motorcycle. A stupid old guy.

Once we went to the beach. We got cheese and crackers from Tillamook dairy and went to the shore. We ate cheese crusted with sand and ran in the beach. I laid down for a nap on a blanket on the sand. I gently stroked the sand through my fingers as I lay.

"Are you OK, Dad?" Kristin asked, noticing my agitation. "I'm fine. I'm just sifting sand through my fingers." She worries. I don't want her too. I'm glad, anyway.

After my accident I had few memories. I remember being in the ambulance. Talking to the EMT's. Seeing my brother, Dan. And then nothing until I woke up in the ICU in UMass. Drugs and shock. No sex or rock and roll. Though there were hallucinations. Not quite the same. And recovery in the rehab hospital. I was intent on getting out as fast as I could. I made a grilled cheese sandwich for a couple of the cute rehab technicians and charmed them with my balancing skills. I wanted OUT. Kristin picked me up and brought me home.

Then hell began.

But this story is about what came next.

I recovered.
I grew.
I got better.
I still was in need.
I needed help.
And I got it.
It meant the world to me.

I took my laptop out to the park next to the apartment and wrote about my experiences.

And came back.
And tried to make friends with the cat, who never loved me. Stupid cat.
And pet the dog, who loved everybody. Nice dog.
And prepared dinner, which everybody loved. Nice people.
And was grateful for those who loved me. Good family.

And I still am.

I love my family.

No comments: