One Day at a Time

I started this blog about Brian so I could put in words the experiences I had taking care of him, but it is difficult coming to this place and stirring up all those memories that I have suppressed. Remembering puts me in a depressed mood and there's been a lot of that going around here anyhow so I haven't wanted more. But, I know I need to write, it will be good for my soul to see it and read it from time to time. My experiences are probably unique. I do not know of anyone personally who has taken on the responsibility of caring for a totally disabled person as I have, especially when I didn't have to. I do not think myself special and above it all to have done this but at the time I was driven with the love and caring for my son Brian.

I had always been an independent person, thinking outside the box, never picking the popular road to travel, always willing for a challenge, if you said no, it can't be done, I would say, watch me! So, it was with Brian. I must be feeling sad for myself today because I feel as though I let him down in some things when he grew up, like he needed braces but I couldn't find the money in our budget, they were so expensive in those days and services not as plentiful as they are today. When he went into the Army and was graduating from boot camp, he wanted he to attend his graduation in another state but we couldn't - it was always the money and the farm. I think back and regret why didn't I find a way to go. Brian always tried harder to succeed than any of the other of my children - not to be impressive but because it was his disposition. Maybe I felt taking responsibility of caring for him was my way of feeling even for the things I couldn't give to him when he was growing up or what I couldn't do because of money. Guilt, I suppose, but protection too. It was about the care in the VA hospital at the time, I couldn't take it.

One of the last meetings we had with Brian before his accident was his last trip home Christmas 1988. When we went to the airport to pick him up, I was expecting a tall good looking soldier in an Army uniform, but I couldn't find him in the crowd, I was frantic. Finally after searching over and over, I was shocked and surprised when a tall young man with a weird hairdo dressed in blue jeans and a casual shirt stood very close beside me and said in a deep low toned voice "mother" and I realize it was our Brian. After all the tears, hugs and kisses, the thoughts whizzed though my brain in an instance what had happened to that conservative kid that lived on a farm raising cows and fishing from our pond!!! Expecting him in uniform was explained simply and reasonably, the solders couldn't wear their dress uniforms when they flew due to the problems in the Middle East during the 80s. But, I knew Brian was so conservative, he had never gone in for radical hair dos but he really surprise his mom with this one! So, here he was the new image of Brian, the same sweet person, with a new hair do fresh from Germany!!! I will have to mention, my dad was so totally old fashion, Brian loved his grandpa so much, he made sure his hair was combed appropriately when he was around grandpa and there was no debating the issue, he understood and respected, Bri's choice and decision - he loved his grandpa.

We had a wonderful visit with Brian that Christmas. He was able to spend time with Tom who was only a baby and ironically Tom doesn't remember Brian in a normal state. Tom was raised with Brian as a totally disabled person. Brian was wonderful with kids and would have been a fabulous father.

When it was time for Brian to head back to his Army base at Stuttgart, Germany, we took him to McCarran Airport January, 1989, for his flight back to Germany; it was the last time we would see him as our active and energetic son Brian. Our next visit was in an ICU unit at Landstuhl Army Medical Center in Landstuhl, Germany November 1989.