Date: Mon, 12 Jan 2009 11:05:29 -0500
From: Blonde Blue eyes <blondeblueeyes@gmail.com>
Subject: True Love 9

      There, in front of me was a head turned sideways with open eyes. The
most incredible brown eyes, eyes that I had not seen in over 9 weeks, eyes
staring back at me.  I actually slapped myself across the face to make sure
that I was day dreaming, or had gone crazy. But no, they were open, they
blinked, they stared back at me, and I must have been squeezing his fist so
tightly that, he tried pulling away again, and I just let go. I looked back
at his eyes, no, into his eyes, into him and stood up, his eyes followed
mine, and with a trembling body, I stepped up to the bed, and looked down
at him directly into his eyes and into him, and with a very shaky voice
said `Dad?'  And as he looked back at me, he smiled, I myself almost fell
over, had to use the side of the bed to hold on to.  That smile, those
eyes, it was the most incredible thing I had ever seen in my life, at that
point nothing else in the world mattered. Absolutely nothing. I didn't care
how I had him, as my friend, as my father, as my lover, all that mattered
was that I had him.  I think if the world exploded at that moment, I would
have died a happy man, because the last thing I would have seen was my
father's eyes and smile.

      I had no idea what was going on around me, hell I didn't care, the
only thing I could see was him, nothing else, I had no bearings on
anything, didn't know where I was, didn't care, it wasn't until someone
actually physically shook me out of my trance, that I realized where I was
and what was going on.  The nurse looked at me, and asked me if everything
was alright, and without even thinking I responded "Of course it is you
fool, he's awake, he's smiling" she looked back at me with the nastiest
expression on her face, and I immediately apologized for my comment, and
just responded that I was lost and not thinking, I was just too involved
with what was in front of me.  Whether or not she believed me I haven't a
clue, but again I didn't care.  I finally looked back at her and just asked
her to get the doctor, as quickly as she could, but before I could even
finish my statement the guy walked in, and I just pointed at my father.  I
heard him talking to my father, but that was the only voice I heard, he was
asking questions, but I heard no responses.  I looked back at my father, I
could see struggling look on his face, all I thought was `shit, he can't
speak.'  And I started to cry again, and everyone looked back at me, I just
excused myself and went outside of the room to stand in the hallway. I
started to laugh and cry at the same time, I got what I had asked for, he
was alive, he was awake, he could hear, but he couldn't speak.  All I could
think now, was what else couldn't he do? Was it permanent?  Had I wasted
too much time before I called 911, that he lost too much oxygen and lost
these ability's?  It really was a joke, a vicious and cruel joke to me, I
had him, but I didn't.

      In the midst of all this, the doctor came out of the room, and looked
at me, and all I could say was `What? Why?'  He looked back at me, and just
responded `I don't know, it could be permanent, could just be temporary,
consider the fact that he just came out of a coma after 9 weeks, give him a
chance.' That was in a way somewhat reassuring, I mean I suppose the guy
was right. He continued on, "I'm going to schedule him for an MRI this
afternoon, and that should tell us if there was any real damage at all that
might be causing this, so don't jump to any conclusions just yet.' After
that I did feel somewhat better, maybe all wasn't lost yet.  Of course
there was still the other more important question, what about the blockage?
And I looked up at the guy again and asked `and his heart?'  and he just
responded `One step at a time, but the first step for you, is to go back
inside, he wants to see you.'  He smiled and then walked away.

      I picked myself up off the floor and slowly walked back into his
room, and just like every other time I saw the most beautiful creature
lying in front of me, except this time, his eyes were open, and he was
smiling at me. He pointed at the chair, which obviously meant to sit down,
but I laughed, and walked over to the bed, and just responded 'I'll sit
when I want to right now I'm standing next to you.' He shrugged, and then
took the pen and paper, which I guess was going to be our mode of
communication –well at least his mode of communication at least for a
while, and started writing. Whatever it was it was a short statement, and
he just handed me the piece of paper, and it simply said `I love you
Michael.'  And of course all that did was start the tears again, and almost
in a whisper I said I love you too, and without thinking I just leaned over
kissed him on the head and hugged him as best I could from that position,
just like I had a million times, except this time he hugged back.  I really
wasn't willing to let go at that point, but he pushed back, so I let go of
him, and stood back up and looked into his eyes again and said `If you ever
do this again, I'll kill you myself.'

      He smiled, and made a silent laugh, and then started to write
something else, which I was actually I was a little surprised at.  On the
paper was written `How long have I been here?'  I had figured that the
doctor had already explained everything to him, at least the general
situation, but apparently not.  I asked him how much he did know about, or
actually what was the last thing he remembered.  He thought for a minute,
and then wrote down `cleaning up the kitchen and going to bed' And I
thought to myself well at least he didn't lose any memory, and I looked
back at him and asked `Do you know what happened?' and again he responded
`doctor said heart attack, and they were going to do more tests this
afternoon, but you still haven't answered my question, how long, tell me
now.'  And actually even that response made me feel better because the tone
to it was still him.  And I looked back at him again and said `It's been
almost 10 weeks, we're in the middle of March now.'  He looked back with a
look of shock and surprise, and then asked what day it was, Tuesday at 2:30
in the afternoon.  He looked at me again and wrote "And you?  How long have
you been here?" I looked back at him asked him if he really wanted to know,
and he nodded his head. So I sighed and responded `9 weeks, 4 days, and
roughly 14 hours'.  He looked at me as if I had a green head on. And again
wrote, `You mean to tell me you haven't been home in over 2 months? What
about school? The house? Your brothers?'

      I laughed and just said, `Took the semester off, house is fine, bills
are paid, and them, well I can't seem to find them, the phone numbers or
addresses are no longer valid for either of them.  So yes, it's just me and
you.  And I would advise getting used to that, I'm not going anywhere, I've
got a nice little comfy cot right over there, and I'm not going home until
you walk out of here with me on your own 2 feet.  So tough luck, you're
stuck with me.' He looked back at me, smiled, and wrote, "I raised you to
be too damned stubborn, but OK your choice.' I thought to myself as if he
had any say in the matter anyway.  Although, of course, once again there
was of course the other impending problem well my problem at least.  Here
in front of me, lay the man that I'm desperately in love with yet can't
have, and I'm now going to spend god knows how many more weeks with him in
the same room, except now he's awake and responsive.  But, no, I was going
to control myself, this was all about him now, and no one else, I wasn't
even going to dare bringing up anything like that, not even to say just
forget it.  Maybe I'd be lucky and in the midst of everything he already
had.  Yes, I'd be able to handle this.  How, I did not know, but I was
going to be able to do it.

      As I sat there pondering my thoughts, a piece of crumbled up paper
was thrown at me, I guess I was not paying enough attention to him, and
again I remembered `shit, he can't speak' but it didn't matter, he was
alive, he was awake, and he even had the same attitude, silently – but
yes in a way I had him back. And at this point I was willing to take
anything I could get, anything at all.  But I continued to stare at him,
just looking at him, in his eyes, I saw nothing else, no tubes, no wires,
just his face, his smile, his eyes – but this time they were looking
back at me staring as intently at me as I was at him and once again the
tears started flowing I just couldn't believe what I was seeing, after all
this time, it really was surreal to me.  I felt him still staring at me,
and then gave me a piece of paper asking me what's wrong, I just looked
back at him and said `absolutely nothing, just glad to have you back'.  And
he smiled back at me, and just nodded his head.  And then I wondered, maybe
we were back to square one, as father and son, well actually we really
never left there, attempted to –well I attempted to – but we never
left it.  This was the way it was going to be, and I guess that's what I
was going to have to accept.

      Finally, the doctor returned with a transport to take him to get an
MRI done, and see what the story was with his brain, and speech and
anything else that might be missing in action, and then off to find the
story about the blockage, and I once again said my prayers again, that
everything was going to be ok, and it was just going to be a slow road to
recovery, but everything was going to be OK and at some point we were going
to walk out of here on each of our own 2 feet.  But after hours of pacing,
and driving myself insane, they rolled him back into the room, and now came
the wait for the diagnosis.  But he was tired, and I was no surprised, but
I was scared for him to go back to sleep, the fear that he might not wake
up again haunted me, but what could I say more than `I love you and sleep
well.' And that was all I said, kissed him on the head and told him to
rest, and I'd be here when he woke up.  And with that, he closed his eyes
and went back to sleep, and I just sat there and stared at him just like I
had done every other night and day from the time we got here.  The funny
thing is this time, I know I'm not going to be able to fall asleep because
I need to make sure that he wakes up.

      After what seemed like an endless night, and multiple cups of coffee,
to my relief he woke up again, and I got to see those beautiful brown eyes
again, and maybe even get to hear his voice, but, ::sigh:: still no luck
with the speech.  Attitude, yes, that was there, since the first piece of
paper I got, was `Get the damned nurse I'm hungry.'  I couldn't stop
laughing, that was my father alright, still had that edge, and that sense
of humor, and again I thought, maybe no speech but I still had him, and
that was all that mattered.  After going to get the nurse and his food, I
was given another wonderful note, `You look like shit, go home and go to
sleep, I'll be fine.' And I just started to laugh, and said to him, `I'm
sorry maybe you don't understand English, or that head of yours is still in
the clouds, I'm not leaving this place without you, and you aren't in any
sort of position to tell me what to do, so shut up and eat.'  He just shook
his head.  Although after walking into the bathroom, I saw myself in the
mirror, I have to admit, I really did look pretty bad, so I jumped in the
shower, and tried to make myself presentable for the doctor.

      Just as I got out of the shower and got dressed, the doctor walked
into the room with the results of both tests.  And quite frankly I wasn't
sure I wanted to know the answers to either of the tests, I wasn't sure
that I could really handle any more bad news.  However, I did promise
myself that I wasn't going to burst into tears like I did every time I
heard news - good or bad.  But, such was life, and it was time to hear it.
The MRI of his brain showed no damage at all, and with time, his speech
should return will just take some time.  I was definitely relieved on that
one, however, the next part, I was not in the mood to hear AT ALL.  The
blood thinners were no longer effective, the blockage was not breaking
apart, and was still too much of a danger to leave it alone, there was no
way around it, they were going to have to do open heart surgery and bypass
it.  And quickly as well, because he was becoming too dependent on the
machines, it was one thing to have him on them in a coma, but awake, a
different story.  My own heart just sank, after everything, now he's got to
go through this.  And then I turned to look at my father and saw the look
of despair on his face, and I went over to him, held his hand, looked into
his eyes, and then back at the doctor, took a deep breath and just nodded.


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