The Po Show

365 Days

A year ago, I flew to LAX. I didn't spend any time in Oxnard, or even in L.A. itself. My FIL picked me up and drove me straight to the UC Irvine Medical Center, and that's where I stayed.

I was supposed to go on March 17, St. Paddy's Day. But on the 16th, there had been a huge ice storm and all flights were cancelled. I couldn't believe it. I mean, really, how often does an ice storm in March shut down all air travel down the whole eastern seaboard? And how often do *you* need to travel on that very day?

So I made it on the first flight out of JFK to LAX on Sunday morning. At just past 2:00 PST, I was walking into the Neuro ICU. I was there to see my brother, who had had a massive stroke that had almost killed him. A little over a week before, he had been in a coma. He had had major surgery that had been very touch and go. He had only been conscious and talking for a couple of days.

When I walked in, he was sitting up and eating a cherry popsicle. His face was expressionless, as was his voice, but he recognized me and was glad to see me. Over the course of several conversations in the next couple of days, it was clear to me that he didn't know where he was, or what had happened to him. He had been told he was at UCI, that he'd been airlifted there, but he kept forgetting. He had no idea he'd had a stroke. He thought he was there because of the prostratitis he'd been suffering prior to his stroke, the infection that caused his blood pressure to go up over 200 and pop the branching vessels in his brain. He wanted to go home.

I was there for a little over 2 days. He had various ups and downs during that time, and by the time I left, he was back on the ventilator so he couldn't talk. As I was leaving, I said, "I'll see you in the summer, and when I see you again, you're going to be so much better. You're going to be home." My eyes filled up with tears and I said, "I love you, Kaz." His eyes filled up too and he mouthed back, "I love you, too."

In the last 365 days, he's improved so much it's astonishing. He's talking (and sounding like himself, rather than that flat voice lacking in inflection) and walking without a cane. He's driving again, and he goes to the farm every morning for a couple of hours. He's still pretty weak, and he tires easily, but he's still fighting like crazy to regain his strength. The most noticable residual effect of the stroke is that he still can't taste very well. Very few foods taste good to him, and most things are too sour or have no taste at all. And he has no memory whatsoever of the months between his stroke and when the shunt was placed into his brain, when he came back to himself.

He sent me an email yesterday, saying "Well, it's been a year." I sent one back, saying that it was exactly a year since I tried to fly out, but couldn't because of the ice storm. I told him how awed I was of all the progress he's made in the past year, how proud I am of him. I told him the story about telling him I loved him, and how he mouthed back that he loved me too. I told him again that I loved him, since now he can remember it.

He wrote back and said that it's interesting to hear about aspects of those lost months for him. He'd had no idea that I'd been delayed by the ice storm; I guess by the time he was able to remember things again, no one told him. Another piece for him to add to the puzzle of a period of time that it's probably just as well for him to forget.

He said that my nieces wanted to have a party for him, to celebrate the year he has had. He wanted to keep it small, but apparently my aunt and even my cousin from the Bay Area are coming. Kaz said that he'd have some linguine with clam sauce in my honor (since he knows that's my favorite), even though his taste buds are still shot.

I wish I could be there.