Mike Day 22 Moving Forward: Out Of The Mouth Of…Mike

June 18, 2011

Family, Health, Mike

You never know what might come out of Mike’s mouth…you expect confusion, made up words, incomplete sentences, all courtesy his acquired brain injury.  When you get snippets of his old personality, his old sense of humor, it’s truly a treat that makes me laugh and laugh.  And laughing is good.  So very good.

The other day Mike puffed his diaper.  Gel * urine soaked of course* from the diaper and puffs of paper were everywhere. The dog felt the need to mark his own territory over the gel.  Mike was wandering around through this.  And all over the bedroom.  I observed to him that it was like trying to herd cats to keep him on the straight and narrow when, while ignoring my pleas to stop, he chose to remove his freshly applied dressing to the healing bedsore on his butt.  It was at this point I lost my mind dissolving into tears and ranting and raving about the cost of colloidal silver dressings, the stupidity of the Commonwealth insurance who will pay for the  stupid dressings if applied by a visiting nurse…daily…but not for the dressings for me to apply them, the miserable turn my life had taken where all I seemed good for was cleaning up pee…endless buckets of pee…and well, you get the picture.  I got it cleaned up, dressing changed and Mike relaxing in bed while I composed myself on an easy chair (sulked is more like it).  Soon I looked up.  Mike was looking at me.  I asked if he was ready to make amends for his pulling off the dressing and ignoring my request to leave it alone.  (Like I really thought he even remembered removing it and even as I asked wondered exactly which one of us had the brain injury since I was entering into such a pointless discussion!)  Mike asked if I was ready to make up and I hopped into bed and into his arms sniveling and whimpering about how sorry I was for being a nut case over something so stupid.  I napped.  I needed one.  We got up after a bit and Mike once again went for the dressing.  I reminded him to leave it alone…and asked if he really wanted to see me get crazy again.  His response?  A classic.  “You know Robin, that was pretty doog doog.”  I allowed as how yes, it was, and did he want me to be a doog doog again?  He took his hands away from the dressing and instead, danced around the room chanting “you were a doog doog” over and over.  Like a kid.  Like he used to do to the kids when they sulked.  Maybe you had to be there.  But the sight of this giant guy, in a brief, dancing around the room chanting this at me was hysterical.  To me.

Then there was the turkey burger.  Mike loves burgers.  He’s the Burger King.  I’ve been reducing his red meat.  We gave him a turkey burger.  Not the ones we love…the Donald Trump recipe from the Oprah show.   Nope.  Plain old ground turkey and some seasonings.  He ate half and informed me he didn’t like it.  What didn’t he like, I inquired?  “The taste of the substance of the flesh,”  he responded.  (His sentences are often very formal and involved when he can get a whole intelligible sentence out).  I pointed out that he told me once he had been in the Navy and as a result he could eat anything…that I was the picky one.  His response?  “Yeah?  Well I’m not in the Navy now.”  Who can argue with logic? 

Or today.  In the waiting room of the family doctor’s office.  I asked Mike my usual question…which he usually forgets so I ask a million times a day.  “Mike, have I remembered to tell you today?”  Mike, “Tell me what?”  “Mike, come on, what do I tell you a million times a day?”  Mike’s response?  “What are you doing?”  At this point I had to laugh, out loud, and uproariously.  I then responded, “Well yes, I do ask you what you’re doing about a million times a day and I guess I should be sorry for that since it is so memorable.  But I meant…have I told you lately I love you?  Who loves you baby?”  He beamed as he said “Oh that.  You do. ”    

And I do.  Yes I do.

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