Under His wing for protection in the storm; post by Mikey's dad Tom

Greetings!

My name is Tom and I am Mikey's dad. I am gravely concerned about Mikey and I'm hurting badly, but I also know that his mind is going to heal so everything will be ok in the long run. I dont know exactly what I'm supposed to write here so I will keep it light. If humor in times of strife suggests callousness, please know that it is with specific intent to let all know that I'm hanging, and that my faith has not wavered.

I'm not down with all the new stuff on the computer like Mikey and Brian and this is my first post of any kind on the Internet. When Brian invited me to go blogging, I eagerly rushed to find my water shoes. The only MySpace I know is the workshop where I tinker with old machines. When someone mentions FaceBook, I think of the wall at the post office where they post pictures of the FBI's most wanted criminals. I still think that AOL is the bomb and I will never switch e-mail providers.

At last writing, Friday almost a week ago, Mikey's speedy recovery was nothing short of a miracle. He was communicating clearly and very alert, if only for moments here and there throughout the day. Anticipating even more improvement on Saturday, I was rudely enlightened on the curious nature of brain injury. He spoke in unintelligible forced utterances for much of the day, and he did not appear to be taking in most of what we said to him. He did have his moments though. For example, Mikey works for me spraying weeds in ponds and waterways and no job is more dreaded than monthly spraying the 0.7 mile long storm water conveyance ditch in one of our contracted residential communities.

"Hey Mikey, are you ready to get back on that ATV and kill some weeds?" He mumbles something in response.
"Hey Mikey, you gonna be on the gun today?" More mumbling.
"Hey Mikey, you think we should go blow out the ditch at Such and Such Estates?"
Clear as a bell he shot back," F--- it!"

From Sunday through Wednesday he slept for most of the time and hospital staff calls these days of rest. Sleep a euphemism for prolonged state of unconsciousness. Sleeping for eight hours is normal. Sleeping for four days is abnormal. Then again, since head injuries lead to abnormal behaviors, sleeping for four days is completely normal under the circumstances.

Head injuries are scary. His first two words on Friday were "Dad, Brian" , yet on Sunday, he woke up with a start, looked at me, and asked, "Who are you?" His brain is impaired, but he is not infantile. He has his same sense of humor, and he smiles at the things that older guys talk about.

His buddies visit him every single day. His mom Leslie is a permanent fixture in the hospital and there is no awkwardness in banding together for the welfare of our youngest son. Alternatively known as my ex, Dr. Rosegger, or the plaintiff, Leslie and I have been tight since we were toddlers and we get along much better now than we ever did when we were married. I dont know why they call divorce a broken home because it sure fixed mine! Kidding aside, she's a fantastic mother and a trusted friend-very cool. Dont ask me about her talent in the kitchen though.

Visiting Mikey rips my heart wide open and I am forced to concede that there is no chance he will be flying to Cleveland for Thanksgiving. Aim for the stars, land on the moon. Aim for the chimney, land in the gutter.

He does not shelter us from the storms. The storms will come. He spreads his wing and shelters us in the storms so that no burden is too great to bear. I'm hanging. Thanks Mike L.!

I would be remiss if I failed to acknowledge my wonderful wife Lynne whose love and support for both me and Mikey is unwavering. She is my rock. She is my navigator. She is the light in my day and my warmth at night. I am truly blessed to have her by my side and I have so much to be thankful for.