He Was Born in February

When I got to Thomas J’s room he was wearing his shoes.  His legs were propped up on the foot rest.  He was wearing basketball shorts and a tshirt.  Other than the facility-issued socks and his disheveled hair, he looked like himself.

I asked him if he wanted to go ride around with me.  He considered it for a second and said, “Yes, I do.”  “Great!  You and those sexy legs look ready to go,” I said.  He used to tell me to shut up at comments like that, but now he just smiles and his eyes look confused.

The nurse chuckled while pushing a wheelchair into the room.  This was the first moment I realized Thomas J was truly “off his legs.”  In that moment, it became apparent that I couldn’t whimsically pick up my brother for rides without the help of a nurse.  Thomas J was very unsteady, and while I attempted to help lift him from his recliner, I was shocked with just how heavy he is.  He’s tall and skinny like dad, but his deadweight is deceiving.

Once buckled into the front seat, and pulling out of the driveway, Thomas J’s gaze was steady out his window.  Occasionally, he would fidget with something on his shorts and I could hear a crunchy plastic sound coming from underneath the fabric.  “He must be wearing a diaper fulltime, now,” I thought.  When he wasn’t fidgeting with his shorts, his whole body was relaxed and his mind seemed content.  Mom (who was in the back) and I conversed about where we were heading, about seeing one of my aunts recently, about the concert I had been to, about the tomatoes in the garden.  Interspersed with unanswered questions to Thomas J, we continued to chat for the next hour as I drove around the county.

Thomas J had zero reaction to the town square that we grew up on, where he worked for 20 years.  When we drove by our childhood home of 37 years, again zero reaction.  We drove by the elementary school, the middle school, and the high school.  Every time I asked him “Do you remember this, TJ?” he either didn’t respond, or he said no.  A few questions I would ask again because I was certain he didn’t hear me.  I tapped his knee and tried to get him to make eye contact.  He looked at me twice in that hour.

I knew one of the final stages was going to be the inability to walk on his own.  I was as prepared as one can be for that one.  But to be unresponsive towards our lifelong home and surroundings? Where did Thomas J go?

As a teenager, Thomas J (myself included) wasted a lot of gas and a lot of time driving around happily and aimlessly.  I think to myself when the nurse helps him out of my car that he has got to be enjoying himself.

“I’ll see you next week, Bro.”