The Bond of Brothers

It didn’t take a psychiatrist to tell that Pete’s visit went rather poorly. Elisa spotted his downcast head the second she past the nurses station. His lean body was cramped in one of the plain, uncomfortable metal chairs as his head rested in his hand. Once he heard someone approaching, he lifted up and placed a false smile on his face. They all seemed to be mastering this fallacious sprightly appearance these days. When dealing with Patrick, it was a necessity.

“He’s irritable today.” Pete warned her, knowing full well that this was nothing new. When was there a time when Patrick wasn’t pissed off and snapping at someone? “I got him the new Playstation. Thought it would be cool to play like we used to.”

“Patrick didn’t enjoy it?” She asked already knowing the answer to that question. Pete’s hurt look was evident to even the least observant.

“Not even the slightest bit.” he answered. He didn’t even bother to disguise the pain in his voice or the growing anger that darkened his normally beautiful clear eyes. “The old Patrick would have at least faked like he liked it. He would have bitched about getting his ass kicked, but he was never mean about it. This one can be so damn rude. He knows he is too. Just doesn’t give a shit. Or can’t.”

“He didn’t have a very good night.” Elisa couldn’t help but try to explain her husband’s callous treatments of the ones around him. She eased herself into a chair beside Pete and placed a soft hand over his tightly bound fists. “He’s not sleeping at night. Keeps having nightmares that he can’t remember when he wakes up. He’s unsure of everything around him right now, and it’s going to take him awhile to adjust. He’s not sure of what to say to us or how to act. We need to just give him more time, Pete. It’s not something he is doing on purpose. He just can’t help himself. You know that deep down the Patrick we love is there. He’s going to remember us. I know he will. Just maybe not today or this week.”

“Elisa, it’s been four weeks. He hasn’t changed at all. You’d think something would have sparked a memory by now. God, at least having Matt around should.” He hated the bitterness in his voice, but his emotions were no longer under his tight reign. Having to hold back so much had left him feeling exhausted. He missed Patrick so much and being with this angry one left him missing his friend even more. “Okay, I can accept that with his injuries that this would happen. Memory loss is not so uncommon. But you know it goes much further than that, Elisa. You have seen it yourself. He’s a different person. He’s not only forgotten us, he’s forgotten himself. It’s like someone has erased him inside, leaving only this shell. God took his sense of humor, his kindness and everything else decent that made him Patrick.”

“It’s not lost forever, Pete.” Elisa held Pete to comfort him, but also because she needed the human contact too. Patrick had yet to even touch her. “It’s there. Somewhere. We just have to help him find it again.”

“He can remember the names of the states, but he can’t recall whether or not he likes pizza. How is that possible?”

“I’ve been asking the doctors that too.” She ran her fingers through his spiky hair and kissed the top of his hair like a mother would do. “They can’t give me a definite answer. He has brain damage. That’s all they can say. Now, we just have to pray that Patrick will come back to us again. Come back whole.

“Patrick isn’t the only one who doesn’t know who he is.” Pete pulled away from Elisa and glanced towards Patrick’s closed door. “I have no clue who that man in there is. All I know is, he’s not our Patrick.”

*******************************************

Patrick lay prone on the bed with all his pillows firmly behind his head. Sleep, once again, remained distant from him. He glared at the Playstation that was still hooked up to the small television set in his room. He didn’t understand why playing with such a stupid thing could arouse so much tension between Pete and himself. It wasn’t like he consciously set out to hurt the guy or create an even wider void between them. Sometimes, it seemed like he just couldn’t help himself. Everyone around him, he somehow managed to hurt. They wouldn’t tell him, in so many words, but he knew it.

He knew Pete was still out there. Most likely, the guy would sit there and sulk until Elisa showed up. Patrick glanced at the black alarm clock on the small dresser to the left of his bed. It was getting close to four. She always came around that time. Whether he wanted her to or not.

For reasons that did not make themselves known to him, her presence always unnerved him. She always tried her best to be easy with him and not let her disappointment show on her pretty face. But there was always an invisible wave of intense emotions that flowed from her. It filled up every empty space in the room and he could literally breathe it in. It took all of her will power to keep from pushing him harder or bursting into tears. As the days went on, the anger and resentment grew in both of them, though neither really wanted to admit it. Patrick reminded himself every day that there were reasons for the way she behaved. She loved him, no matter how he felt about her. There was a determination in her that could not be so easily detained, as he had tried many times before. He finally just had to give in and allow her to visit him.

Muffled voices traveled through the door to his ear, but not clear enough for him to understand what each said. He recognized Elisa and knew that Pete was now telling her all about his abrupt decent into rage. Pete was a major tattletale. Patrick slipped out from under the sheets and stood uneasily to his feet. It felt as if fatigue was determined to be his constant companion. Trying to make as little noise as possible, He maneuvered his clumsy body to the dresser to find something to read or write on. This was two more handy things he was able to do without having to be re-taught. With the exception of messy handwriting brought on by his trembling hands, he could read at a quick speed with no trouble with comprehension and write a letter without assistance. His abilities, for the most part, were left intact. Just everything else seemed to be a scrambled mess of confusion.

The blinking light on the game cubicle drew his attention away from his search of the desk. He switched the television set back on and pushed the start button on the game that was still left in the machine. His fingers felt stiff and clumsy on the controls causing his player to die rather quickly on the screen. He couldn’t imagine himself every enjoying these things. He tossed the thing aside again and switched the television back so he could watch the news. He needed something to get his mind off of this stupid contraption and Pete. Off of them all.

The soft click of the door alerted him to the fact that he was no longer alone. Elisa pushed the door closed but didn’t speak at first. He figured that she was trying to choose her words carefully before launching into a lecture about being cruel to Pete earlier. With a sigh, he turned off the television and turned his attention to his wife. “Is he out there pouting still?” He asked a bit too harshly.

“He’s hurt, Patrick. You said some really mean things to him.” Elisa began. Patrick scoffed at this and turned his back to her. As usual, he was going to be difficult. “Pete thought he was helping....”

“Well, he didn’t.” Patrick could sense her step towards him, and he moved away from her towards the windows. “You want me to spend time with that guy, and I don’t even know him. I tried to play the stupid game with him, like some kind of child. God, like some game is going to jog loose a memory of us being all buddy- buddy. It doesn’t work that way.”

“How does it work, Patrick? The rest of us have no idea. We’re all stumbling around trying our best to make this easy on you. And you bite our heads off every time.” The tone of her voice sharpened as the anger she had suppressed on a daily basis emerged from its hiding place. “He thought if he brought something you two used to enjoy, then you might recall a little something. A hint of how you used to be.”

Patrick turned around quickly to face her and almost causing him to lose his balance. Elisa reached out to steady him, but he jerked away to prevent her from touching him. He steadied himself by holding onto the railing of the bed, and the glare on his face intensified. “It’s not helping me! It makes it worse. It fucking reminds me every time that I’m not the same! I’m some kind of freak to you all! There is something wrong with me, and I can’t do a damn think about it. I can’t stand that damn look of disappointment on all of your faces anymore!”

“Patrick, I do understand....”

“No, you don’t. Don’t you fucking say you do.” With the rage and pain that had been boiling under the surface, he lashed out. Patrick grabbed the electronic device and ripped its cords from the television and wall. “You don’t understand shit!”

Elisa jumped back as the Playstattion came crashing down in front of her feet. “Patrick, please.”

“You have no idea what its like to wake up with nothing.” His voice lowered but the anger had not lessened. His eyes narrowed into slits and his nostrils flared. “I have this gaping hole in me. I’m a thing, not a person. As far as I know, I have no fucking life or past. It’s all gone.”

“You do have a life, and we are not gone, Patrick! We’re right here. I’m right here!”

He stepped over the mangled mess of metal and shrunk the space between them. Close enough for her to feel his breath on her cheek. “You are a stranger to me.”

“Why do you have to be so cruel?” Tears welled up in her eyes, and her lower lip began to tremble. “I love you, Patrick.”

Patrick looked at her without remorse, but the rage that darkened his eyes lessened. He didn’t feel remorse for what he had said to Pete or to her. He couldn’t force himself to care. With total disregard for the tears on her cheek he finally spoke. “I don’t love you.”

*******************************

She didn’t care who heard her. Her anger took control over her senses and no one was going to be safe. Dr. Patton looked up from his work when the door to his office opened with a loud jerk. “Mrs. Stump?”

“I have tried everything.” She said ignoring the confused look on the doctor’s face. She paced the length of his office as thoughts ran through her mind at an alarming rate. “I don’t understand this. What the hell happened to him?”

“We talked about this, Elisa.” Dr. Patton possessed the patience of a saint. He pushed himself away from his desk and walked around to the front. “Amnesia is very common...”

“It’s not just his memory, Dr. Patton. It’s everything. Not only can he not remember who I am, he’s forgotten who he is. What kind of man he was. That Patrick in there is not my husband.” Tears streamed down her face as she finally put all her fears to voice. “It’s like having a stranger with my husband’s face.”

“Patrick suffered some frontal lobe damage, Elisa. This type of injury can bring about some personality changes.”

“How the hell can his personality be changed?”

“The study of the brain is not complete. There are hundreds of theories that try to explain how the brain functions and which areas are responsible. Speech seems to be controlled by certain regions, just like emotions and sleep are controlled by different ones. The frontal lobe is believed to be where certain functions that result in personality.” He leaned against his desk and crossed his stocky arms around his broad chest. Trying to explain brain injuries to a lay person could be more difficult than giving a lecture to a bunch of med students. “During the early 1900’s, a railroad worker by the name of Phineous Gage. He was a railroad worker, good husband and father. Never missed a day of work and considered a very valuable employee. That is until he was injured on the job. An explosion sent a railway spike through the front of his skull. It entered right at the top of the nose, straight up and out the top of his skull.”

“Dear Lord. Did he survive?”

“Never lost consciousness. He walked home and sat down in the steps of his front porch before someone finally took him to the hospital.” He smiled at the shocked look on Elisa’s face. It was truly one of the oddest medical quandaries, and he always enjoyed the doubtful faces on his listeners’ faces. “Phineous survived his ordeal, but wasn’t the same. He ended up losing his job after he failed to show up several times. He lost his family. Basically, his personality had been altered. He was no longer the polite man everyone admired. He became rude and crass.”

“Was he ever the same again?”

A dark cloud seemed to develop above them both, and he no longer enjoyed telling his tale. For this listener, her hope was hinged on that one question. He paused looking away from her before he could finally answer her question with a singe word. “No.”

“You aren’t exactly giving me much hope here, Doc.”

“I know this is hard. It’s hard for both of you. Right now it seems like the most devastating thing in the world. But think of the alternative.” With surprising gentleness he took Elisa by the shoulders and peered directly in her eyes. “It is a miracle that Patrick even survived. The fact that he is awake and talking is astounding. He shouldn’t be here with you. But he’s alive and getting better every day.”

“I should just be thankful for that.” Her eyes closed as tears once again took their position in the corners. Crying only made her feel weak. Every tear was a betrayal to her faith in her husband and God. He had allowed Patrick to come back to her, and she should give only thanks. “But, Dr. Patton. It’s like he’s a complete stranger to me. He has his beautiful face and voice, but it’s not him. Someone else woke up.”

“May I make a suggestion?” All she could do was nod her approval as tears streamed down her face. “Go into counseling together. A third party might be able to help you and Patrick adjust to all of this. Don’t try to do this alone.”

The look of despair was clearly etched in her face and it broke his heart for the hundredth time. “Can a counselor restore Patrick to his former self?”

“No, he can’t.” He admitted slowly. “But he can help him discover who he is now or who he wants to be.”

“What if he doesn’t want to be with me?” Her voice broke under the weight of the pain that was always lingering just below the surface.

“Look at yourself, Elisa.” He took her by the arm and turned her towards her reflection that was cast in the glass back of a corner cabinet. “How could he not want you?”