On Friday I flew back to JFK from a week-long work trip to London, which had prevented me from visiting Suzie last weekend. I've been trying to get out to Rego Park once a week, so I felt bad that I had to to miss a visit. As my cab drove by Park Terrace on the L.I.E, I vowed to make up for my lost weekend.
On Saturday I found Suzie in her room, looking fresh from a shower or bath. Her hair was damp, she was wearing an over-sized Moosehead Beer t-shirt. She had great color in her cheeks, the best I've seen yet. You might even call it a healthy glow.
As Betty reported, Suzie had her right arm in a sling, and she appears to have been moved to the bed closer to the door since her injury was discovered. What is unclear, however, is what she actually did to her arm, when she did it or how she did it.
Nobody seemed to know for sure, except maybe Suzie. And she's not telling.
Like Betty, I heard the words "break" and "fracture" from one or more of the nurses, but a nurse named Michelle told me that it was a sprain. I hope it is just a sprain, because allowing a break to heal with the arm in a sling (not a cast) is far from an optimal healing method.
When I arrived, Suzie was sitting near the door with her mom and her aunt. Every other time I have visited recently, Suzie has been with her father. It was good to see Mrs. Moon again, particularly since she is better able to communicate in English than Suzie's dad.
Mrs. Moon told me about Suzie's arm, and she said that the Korean doctor who had been visiting Suzie was no longer coming, due to her injury. She also said that Suzie had been taken to NYU Hospital in an ambulance for x-rays. As she told me this, she fed Suzie with chopsticks, pulling what looked like green kimchi out of a deli container.
"Suzie doesn't like Korean food so much anymore," Mrs. Moon said, sadly.
After that, Suzie's mom and aunt left us alone. Her new roommate (a middle-aged Hispanic lady) also vacated the room, which I thought was very considerate of her.
"What happened to your arm, Suzie?" I asked.
"I don't know," Suzie said. "Surgery."
"Did you have surgery?" I asked. "Or did you have x-rays at NYU?"
"Surgery," she repeated.
I don't think this is correct, but it's interesting to hear her use that word, perhaps, as a catch-all for medical treatment. It led me to believe that she was, to some degree, associating this medical procedure with the ones she had experienced last year.
"Do you remember when you had surgery last year?" I asked. "After your aneurysm ruptured?"
Suzie was distracted by the TV, so I asked her if we could shut it off. She said no, so I instead turned down the volume.
"Do you remember, being in dance class?" I asked. "You had an aneurysm in your brain and it ruptured. The blood vessel burst. Then they took you to the hospital. Some people thought you were going to die, but you didn't die. We're very happy about that. Are you, Suzie? Are you happy you didn't die?"
"Oh yes," Suzie said. "Absolutely."
"Good, I said. "But you don't remember what happened?"
"No," she said.
I told Suzie again about the brain aneurysm I had, which was treated back in 1997 before it caused any lasting damage. Although my situation was nowhere near what Suzie is enduring now, I did experience some issues with speech, memory and comprehension.
"I had some of the same problems that you are having now," I said. "I could understand what something was when I looked at it, but I couldn't think of the word, of what it was called. Does that happen to you?"
"All the time," she said.
"So it's all up here," I said, touching her head. "But now we have to get it to come out of your mouth."
"Absolutely," she said.
I know there are some people who may think I shouldn't talk in detail to Suzie about what happened to her. But I don't agree. I'm trying to put myself in her position to whatever degree is possible and, if what happened to her had happened to me, I would like to know why. I'd like to know how I got brain damaged, partially paralyzed and stuck in a long-term care facility out in the ass end of Queens. And, most importantly, I'd like to know how I could get out of there some day.
"I know being here sucks," I said. "Do you want to be here for the rest of your life?"
"No," she said, her eyes widening.
"You wanna get the fuck out?" I asked.
"Get the fuck out," she agreed.
"Good, then let's turn off the TV and get to work."
"Absolutely," she said.
The first assignment was for her to stop using the word "absolutely." I suggested "definitely" or "I'm in complete agreement" or "I agree 100 percent!"
"100 percent!" she repeated.
Then, since we were talking about numbers, I pulled some bills out of my wallet.
"This is money," I said. "Where do you keep your money? A wallet or a purse? Wallet or purse?"
"Purse," she said.
"Very good, which of these is a $5 and which is $1?" I asked.
We kept this up, rapid fire. I switched the five dollar bill with the one, and sometimes replaced the five with another single. Every time she got it right I gave her a high five. When she got it wrong I gave her a thumbs down. Whatever we did, I said the words, again and again, over and over. At then end of this exercise, she let out a deep sigh.
"Tiring, huh?"
"Absolutely," she answered.
"You can't say absolutely anymore," I reminded her. "What can you say instead?"
"100 percent," she replied.
Then I pulled out my computer. I asked her what it was.
"Cell phone," she said.
"That's close," I replied, pulling my iPhone from my pocket."This is my cell phone. And this is my computer."
I then repeated all the words I could think of relating to computer: laptop, Apple, Macintosh, Mac, keyboard, email, Internet, Facebook, screen. Then I pulled up the pictures we had used in earlier sessions: Barack Obama, Bill Clinton, Hilary Clinton, Hilary Swank, the Beatles, Madonna and Darth Vader.
We went through each picture. She got Obama right with no prompting, but the others required some help. When we got to Madonna, I started singing. Badly. "Feels like I'm going to lose my mind. You just keep on pushing my love over the..."
"Borderline," Suzie sang in a sweet voice, finishing the chorus.
Then I played her an MP3 of the Facts of Life theme and she was able to sing some of the lyrics to that as well. She did the same thing with a few Beatles songs, singing "Yeah yeah yeah" to She Loves You. Suzie remembers these things, and they make her smile. And it's good to see her smile.
At that point Mrs Moon walked in with Suzie's dinner, followed by Janine and Mia. Suzie ate like I have never seen her eat. I guess all that work made her hungry.
And there was more work to be done -- and fun to be had -- when I went back again on Sunday.
Suzie recognizes this picture every time.
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