We stuck with the decision not to put in the feeding tube for three weeks and caught all kinds of hell for it. Then Dad informed my sister and me, he signed off on the procedure, because they showed him the CAT scan and said they couldn't detect any brain damage.

He was told that the feeding tube procedure was simple, but was called mid surgery, to approve the use of anesthesia. That struck alarm bells in my mind. Mom was then transferred to the hospital's general ward where her care was absolutely horrible. As soon as she was declared healed, Mom was transferred to Sinai Hospital's, Traumatic Brain Injury Unit (TBIU).

That was the place that would not only fully evaluate her, but provided her with all of the therapy and psychological support she needed. They also boasted educational and psychological support for the rest of the family as well, which we initially looked forward to.

Mom was there for a couple of months, and for our family, it quickly became another Peyton Place. My grandmother tried everything she possibly could to wrest control in reference to Mom. Without being able to do that, there was one problem after another in reference to Dad, and the family's disapproval came down on him like a ton of bricks.

One day Dad came home with the story that Grandma tried to hit him, and he had to wrestle Grandma out of the room, and forbid her to see Mom in his presence. I didn't believe him; just figuring that he had gotten himself a little excited and overreacted, making his perceptions of things a little exaggerated.

The next day, I was with Dad when Grandma came in and yelled, "Lou, you son of a bitch!"

Just then, she made a fist and went to give him a good cross to the face. I immediately grabbed her fist with one hand and put her in a bouncer's hold, by grabbing a handful of clothing on the other side of her body, forcibly walking her out of the room and down the hall. The only difference was, I did so with a smile on my face and jovial attitude. I just couldn't believe the tough fight an eighty-two year old woman could put up. Sokol (Czechoslovakian Gymnastics) paid off for her!

Mom nearly died there, as she pulled out her feeding tube, and not being able to reinsert it, they used a smaller tube. She quickly developed peritonitis and it was determined the other hospital not only used an outdated procedure, but inserted the tube into the duodenum instead of the stomach.

We were also informed by the medical staff, the reason Mom's Cat Scan didn't show brain damage, was because the CAT Scan's resolution was not fine enough to show up damage on the cellular level, as it actually only sees areas of blood, which indicates damage. In my opinion, the radiologist lied to Dad so the hospital would put in the feeding tube. We opted not to do any legal actions on either problem, because the medical insurance covered it and we had enough on our plates already.

We also made use of their support group, but stopped going after a few weeks because all of the other members were telling us they were glad their injured family member wasn't like Mom, and they're glad they won't have the care-giving situation we will have.

In this period, Mom came a long way, but Dad wanted the perfect wife, the one he once knew, to be totally restored. The problem was she had already been considered as far along as she would ever be. While Mom now called us by our names, it seemed to me this was something she had just learned to do, rather than from her memory. Instead of the family being recognized by her, I had the bad feeling Mom accepted us as her family, for lack of another.

Finally Mom was home and everything worked out remarkably well. Mom couldn't do much, but she loved assisting which was a great help. It didn't take long at all for a routine to be established. With help from the social service department of TBIU, we had her in an adult daycare program near home, so Dad could go back to work.

Mom also seemed to enjoy it, and had no problems with being away from home. Her favorite person was an elderly man that she called Fuzzy. She also stated that she liked doing some of the activities.

Ironically for me, a dispute at work with overtime, prompted me to refuse to do any extra work, which left me home to oversee Dad's care of Mom. Despite what the TBIU said, Mom was picking up increasing degree of skills and everything looked great. There were also now some indications that Mom was remembering facets of family life before her cardiac arrest.

But a big change had started to take place. Dad finally allowed Mom to stay with Grandma on an unsupervised basis, and this created a problem that really became apparent to me. Grandma was getting Mom to insist on staying home with her, and soon Mom became too much of a behavioral problem for the day care.

Dad tried a couple of other options, and unfortunately I spilled the beans to Grandma about the visit to the League for the Handicapped. Initially Mom was enthused about the place, but after a visit with Grandma, she was uncontrollable at her initial tour of the facility. It didn't help the matters of their consideration for Mom to be screaming her head off, "I'm not a retard! I don't belong here!"

Dad knew immediately right away, I had talked to Grandma and I told Dad, I had tried to logically explain why being cared for there was the best deal for my mother. My grandmother on the other hand, took it as proof that she didn't belong there and for lack of another daytime placement for Mom, was more than happy to care for her.

For a few more months, things seemed to be improving; Mom even began to sound like herself and the slight Tourette's Syndrome tick with her tongue even mellowed. We were amazed, though the returning memories were a bit disjointed; she was able to mention them to us. Vacationing at Ocean City, a couple with Dad, a couple with me, where Grandma's house was, and where she lived when they first got married, as well a few other family members were coming back to her.

I was always concerned about Dad getting her ready in the morning, cleaning her up and dressing her for the night, so I always sat at the top of the steps in case I was needed. In the beginning, Dad had a lot of frustration and angst with caring for Mom. Things were going very well at this time and her care seemed working out great, I was never needed.

There was only one person who wasn't reentering my mother's mind; Cindy my sister, who was now a senior at Parkville Senior High. At her age, the whole thing was very hurtful and grating on her. Another problem Cindy was experiencing was Dad, who made the mistake of trying to take over my mother's role. I could try to advise and explain to Dad and Cindy all I wanted, but with the divergence in the paths their lives were taking, I could clearly see that things wouldn't end very well.

Dad also discovered that he mastered a dish that he cooked. He was very happy to have mastered the Perdue Oven Stuffer Roaster, a large chicken with a pop up timer; cooking vegetables, which were the carrots and celery put in the bottom of the pan, and making mashed potatoes. This was going to be the only meal that we would eat again. To be honest, I would take the package of a meal, and often dump it on my way to work, as I picked up a little variety at a sub shop.

At home, I was always around, but found time to watch TV, work on the computer or read. The routine of the house was working well and Mom even displayed a sense of humor; a little inappropriate at times and definitely quirky. My sister was spending much less time around the house and chose to spend the time with her friends and boyfriend. Dad set the limits, and usually Cindy would obey them. She was also doing well with her school work.

I also visited my Grandma on Saturdays. To be honest, I wasn't usually happy with either her attitude or what she said, but it really wasn't that bad. Always an issue popped up. Mom started putting on weight and Dad asked this doesn't happen.

In the next visit, my Grandmother swore up and down, she is doing everything Dad asks, and doesn't know why he thinks differently. Though I told her it wasn't necessary, she started opening cabinets so I can inspect them, "To prove herself right."

"Now you have seen it all and I hope both you and Dad are ashamed at calling me a liar," which I never did. But elderly women do frequently go to the bathroom. It was all of the other cabinets that held the booty. One was loaded with cookies; another chips, pretzels, peanut butter; others with canned stew, soups and ravioli.

Move the Healthy Choice dinners in the freezer and there was the ice cream, or the tall jugs in the refrigerator and one found pudding and candies. To top it all off, family members expressed they didn't like my father's attitude towards Grandma, and my neighbors and her friends, cursed my father out for being a liar and trying to control my Mom's care.

Just down the street, there was a new Pakistani restaurant called, "Myfals," which translates to friend. I either went there before visiting my Grandma to get an Indian style omelet, or after the visit to try a curry dish, or to eat the food I had fallen in love with, Mutton Biryani; a dish of cubed goat; in a rich, spicy sauce served over Basmati rice.

The only real time for me came when I went camping with my Boy Scout troop. There were many changes which had occurred. Bob was supposed to be only a Scoutmaster for a brief period of time, until another one could be found. As being in Scouts usually dictates, it was over a long period that stretched many years longer than expected.

A second trip to Algonquin Provincial Park in Canada was planned and worked out well, despite the almost freezing weather they had at the end of July. I refused to go unless they replaced Aubrey's food with freeze dried. That did wonders for the load, and I only did two or three medium weighted trips per portage. My most memorable part was when I found a lake with fresh water clams, and we had a clam steam, fritter and bake.

To relieve Bob of being a scoutmaster, they brought Tom in who was a former scout from the troop. He worked out decently at first, but he was working on his career as an auto mechanic, and was developing a relationship with a woman, so the responsibilities of his Scoutmastership, waned quite a bit. We were able to keep him on the books to keep the troop functioning until another Bob was out of Webelos, where he was presently in charge. I refused to become scoutmaster, because I was single and in my opinion, too much a target.

Bob was impressive, as he was a gung ho scouter. In his youth, he made the Rank of Eagle and held the Vigil rank in the Order Of the Arrow. He served in the 82nd Airborne in Nam, and most interesting to us, he was so short we lost him in the kids.

This worked out well for us as we still were able to keep the high adventure going for the older scouts. Bob was a, "basic scout-skill person,"  who enjoyed the fact that all of the scouts were not only enthused, they enjoyed outdoor camping.  Norm and I were happy as well, since the older scouts themselves were competing against us. 

The new addition to our troop was the inclusion of the Webelos on our camping trips which ensured us, new boys would not only be wanting to join us after the Webelo program was over, but also teach them many of the skills they would need. I saw this as a success, as long as they only participated with the troop occasionally, observe some of our high adventure activities and split off to run their own program.

It was only during these camping trips I found enough time to rest, enjoy life, and to think. I was able to think open mindedly about the situation with my mother. When she suffered her cardiac arrest, many neighbors were very nice and expressed their sympathies to us, as well, providing us with meals, as cooking wasn't on our minds or in our schedules. All of our family was wonderful as well.

But with the increasing dissention of Grandma, this changed people to an outright loathing for my father, something I felt that he didn't deserve. Between the two, Dad was definitely more emotional, being frustrated and angry, as well depressed. My opinion was, it wasn't recognized that my Grandmother was in a similar state and using my father, instead of turning inwardly.

To me, Dad was doing his job of being both my mother's husband, and care provider. While it wasn't easy for him, he was managing things very well. I felt he at least deserved respect and courtesy, instead of the contempt and derision. After all, he had far more considerations to take care of then my grandmother.

Work also popped up in my mind. I had wonderful sympathy there as well, and my life there was in both stride and easy to take. But it seemed that everyone expected this to be finished when Mom came home, despite that was when the real work started. Even with no problems, the extra work and less sleep took its toll. People expected good news upon her return and though things were improving, there was still a lot to be desired.

I was now being hit up to once again, to put in overtime, but really stuck it to them by not. Being a hard worker, I resented the accusations I was taking advantage of them and slowing down during the day to pad my pay check at night.

The reality was; it was at night when there weren't any of the numerous distractions, interruptions and demands that slowed me down during the day. The overtime scofflaw was the manager of the night shift in my opinion. Hell, at least I didn't sleep on the clock.

Well fed, rested, distracted and entertained, a camping trip not only did the most to restore my vigor and outlook, but my spiritual senses as well. After the camping trip, I washed up and took a nap, and then when I awoke, I put away my gear or hung it to air it out. With that routine over, I could then relax and watch a little TV.

It was after one such trip, that I walked in the door and Dad touted, "Hey, Mike! Things went great, a miracle has occurred and I think your Mom will be well soon. You'll see!"

With my burning bush experience still in my mind as fresh as when it occurred, I wondered what had happened to lead Dad to believe that a miracle had occurred. It wasn't until the evening when I was sitting down, with Mom on the couch across the living room...

She said, "Mike, I want you to know that I love Lou. Your Dad and I are having sex. I like it!"

Talk about a fall out of your chair moment, Dad was walking by, and was immediately embarrassed. In this unusual reversal of role, Dad started blushing and only added, "I'm very happy. Mike, I think I have my wife back! Like I said, a miracle has occurred!"

Despite the shock of Mom's sex comment, what really struck me was she said, "You're dad and I..." This did mark for me, a true moment of progress as this was an unexpected association, which indicated a new complexity of thought.

The problem was, the next day, she also told her mother. I found this out, when my next door neighbor ran up to me going to my house and said, "Do you know your mother is saying that she is having sex with your father?"

Mrs. Wagner was in her eighties herself, long since widowed and a staunch friend of my grandmother. "Mrs. Wagner, as far as I can tell, it was consensual and they are still married."

"Mike, your father is a despicable person, but I never thought he would be so low to take advantage of your mother in the condition she's in."

"Mrs. Wagner, what if it was my mother who decided to love him?"

"If you're not careful, you'll find yourself going to hell just like he is." She walked into her house and slammed the door.

I kept my thought to myself, no wonder your husband died so long ago.

The next day, I was barely at work, when I got the phone call from Grandma, "Do you know your father's raping your mother?"

"How can it be rape when they're married and mom said that she enjoyed it?"

"I know that son of a bitch, he raped her and he's going to hell for it! I got my little girl back and I'll be damned if that son of a bitch gets in my way. I'm taking care of her! I'll curse him till he dies, see him in the coffin and spit on his grave for what he is doing to June."

I knew only one thing was for sure, this wasn't good for my mother! In addition, I now wondered if God is going to be judging these people, with the prejudice that my father and I were by them. I immediately put a stop to talking to anybody about this, though I couldn't shield myself from people's looks.

The main reason was, Mom pretty much stopped talking, lost the skills she had gained, and was suddenly very weak. Dad and I felt that she had gotten a virus. One could only find themselves wrong in retrospection.