“Yeah, it’s exciting,” Nunez said, “but it’s a little frightening too. I mean, I want to get on with my life, but for the past eight months, I have lived in a hospital. There are people here to take my vital signs every four hours, make my meals, help me with all my treatments, and immediately take care of anything that goes wrong. These people are angels of mercy. They aren’t going to be there in the real world.”
“No, they won’t,” Michael said, “but what they have taught us and showed us is how to survive on the outside; how to make our own way; how to know our body. You more than anyone taught that to all of us, Nunez. I expect to visit you in your penthouse office when you are the president of a major construction company. ”
Bill joined in. “Like I always say, don’t look behind you…you’re not going that way. Courage does not always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, ‘I will try again tomorrow.’ Courage is when you are scared to death, but you saddle up anyway.”
Nunzio held one finger up to his lips and mouthed, “Sssh, he’s on a roll again.”
Bill the eternal philosopher continued, “Don’t let your past dictate who you are, but let it be part of who you will become.”
“So are you done now, Socrates?” Jerry said when Bill took a breath.
“Okay, yes, I’m done for now. There will more when the moment presents itself.”
Michael burst out laughing and said, “How do you remember all this shit?”
One week later Kelly walked out of Magee Rehabilitation Hospital. Her parents had a catered meal brought into the hospital. Kelly hugged and kissed the members of her cheering squad. With tears in her eyes she said, “I’m leaving so I can get the hell away from you assholes. You all drove me crazy.” Then, while trying to keep her voice from breaking, she said, “I love you all more than you will ever know. Thank you for being there for me.” There wasn’t a dry eye in the place, and everyone clapped and cheered as Kelly walked out of Magee.
Michael’s parents and all of his brothers and sisters happened to be visiting him the day Kelly left Magee. That night after dinner, Carm told everyone the wonderful news about how Kelly walked out of Magee. They were all sincerely happy for her, but there was an awkward silence afterward.
Tony finally asked his sisters the question that was on everyone’s mind: “In your professional opinions, is Michael ever going to walk again? ”
They cast their eyes downward, both shook their heads, and said mournfully, “No.”
“So I guess we better stop telling him that he is going to walk out of Magee,” Joe said.
Anne shot right back forcefully, “Don’t you dare take away his hope. It is the only thing that is giving him the will to keep fighting.”
Mary added in a kinder, gentler tone, “Mikey is now Sisyphus.”
“Sissy who?” Joe questioned.
Mary answered admonishingly, “You should have paid more attention in our Greek lit class in college. Sisyphus is the guy from Greek mythology who is compelled by the gods to push an enormous boulder up a hill. Just before he reaches the summit, it rolls all the way back down the hill. The next day he has to try again and again and again, but each time he gets near the peak, it rolls back down the mountain. Michael has to keep trying to walk. He has to keep working with determination. After he leaves Magee, he will come to that realization, later, when he can better handle it. Right now we need Michael, the fighter. I know this sounds cruel, but we need him to be Sisyphus.”
Three weeks later it was Nunzio’s good-bye celebration. “Before I leave all you assholes,” Nunzio said, “I want to hear Bill spout philosophy one last time.”
“Nunez, you were my mentor. You taught us how to sneak out at night; how to smuggle beer in; and, more importantly, how to get the cans and bottles out. You taught us to never sit under a beam in a Philly bar. I have thought long and hard about what to say. I’ve come up with two relevant statements. The first from the great Mark Twain: ‘Never argue with a fool, onlookers may not be able to tell the difference,’ which applies more to you than most.” The entire room burst into laughter, yet Bill continued, “And while I have no idea who originally said it, ‘Life is too short to stress yourself with people who don’t deserve to be an issue in your life,’ and we all know whom I mean.” This brought more laughter.
From the back of the room came, “Is that the best you got? I didn’t come all the way back to hear that shit.” Twenty wheelchair users all tried to turn at once so they could look behind them, and there was Kelly, walking steadily to the front of the room. “I was at least expecting a limerick. You know the one. There once was a man from Nantucket whose—okay, you all know the rest.” Everyone in the room laughed.
Nunzio was grinning from ear to ear said. “Good to see you, Kel. You’re looking good.”
“Yeah, I do, but you look like shit. You’d think you would at least shave on your last day so we could get one last glimpse of your ugly mug.” Turning to Amy, Kelly said, “Can I wheel him to the front door so I can push him down the steps?” She walked up to Nunzio, sat on his lap, and hugged him as she whispered, “You were always there for me; I had to come back and be here for you.”
“Thank you, Kel,” Nunzio whispered back.
The next day, Bobby King wheeled up next to Michael. “I want to thank you. You are my Nunzio.”
“Hey, kid, stick with me and I’ll teach you how to smuggle in hot women. Not even Nunez could do that.” They both laughed and went on with their daily grind.
One month later, a teary Amy gathered Jerry, Bill, Michael, Bobby, Shirley, and Matt. “What’s up, Amy?” Michael asked.
“There is no easy way to say this. Nunzio took his own life last night.” Bobby and Shirley burst into tears. Shock overtook the others before Michael could ask, “What happened?”
“He was staying with his folks. After they went out, he closed the garage door and turned on his van. He left a note apologizing to everyone, but going through this divorce was more than he could handle.”
Chapter 10
Never Underestimate the Human
Spirit
Nunzio’s death left a gloomy, shadowy pall over Magee, an oppressive silence as everyone robotically went back to his or her daily regime, but, as everyone soon realized, life must move forward. At first it was a slow acceleration, but they used this event as a cautionary tale and then a motivating factor to advance in their individual rehabilitation.
Michael was getting stronger and was learning to use all the instruments he would need in the outside world. His major source of frustration was that the insurance companies still had not settled, leaving him without his custom wheelchair. Using the standard chair was causing him a great deal of pain in his right shoulder. X-rays showed he had a torn rotator cuff. He complained to Bill. “I’ve been in a hospital for five months—five months and those insurance fuckers still haven’t got anything done. You would think they could figure this out in five months. Do you know what those fuckers told me?”
Bill shook his head no .
“They told me they are going to continue to appeal this until a judge tells them they have to pay. I am so pissed off. There is a chance I will leave here without my custom chair. My brother is getting me a court date with a worker’s compensation judge.”
“It’s a lot of money, Mikey. When have we ever seen a health care company get anything done fast, unless it is to refuse something. Here we live in the richest and most powerful country in the world, and we have no universal health care program. What gets me is people still think their doctors make decisions about their health. The insurance companies make the decisions.”
In addition to the shoulder problem, without his custom chair, Michael had trouble repositioning himself. His posture was poor and calcium deposits were building on his hips, which made his posture worst. The doctors performed surgery to shave down the calcium deposits. This would be a minor procedure for an able-bodied person, but no surge
ry is minor for a quad. Despite the shoulder, calcium deposits, and more UTIs slowing his rehabilitation, Michael was determined to be healthy enough to attend Jerry’s stair run in three weeks.
“Oh shit,” Jerry said while they were all sitting around the lunch table, “it is three weeks until my Rocky Run, and I am coming down with a urinary tract infection. The last time I got one, it laid me up for two weeks.”
“So just postpone it,” Shirley said. “Move it back two or three weeks.”
“You don’t understand,” Bill explained. “The hospital president saw a chance for some free publicity and called the local news. Channel Six Action News is going to film it live on the six o’clock news.”
“That is going to make a great story,” Jerry said sarcastically. “Amputee falls down the stairs of the Philadelphia Art Museum and breaks his neck, film at eleven. ”
“You can’t think that way,” Bill said. “I read a story about an American prisoner of war, I think it was World War II, that in order to survive his horrible condition, he imaged that he was playing golf at his favorite course. He pictured every hole, every stroke. He visualized his every move. In his imagination he took five strokes off his best score. After the war he went to that golf course. After three years of not even holding a golf club, he shot his best game, five strokes off his best score.”
“Do you think this really is possible?” Bobby asked hopefully.
Bill emphatically answered, “Yes. I have seen it happen in my own life.”
“I don’t have the mind control that you have, Bill,” Jerry said.
“Do you think I was born with it?” Bill rejected his excuse. “We will develop it. Michael, tell your brother Tony to pick up some books, Norman Vincent Peale, Napoleon Hill, Denis Waitley, and The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin. We need powerful, motivating music like Beethoven, John Philip Sousa, and Chuck Berry.”
“I got those on eight-track,” Matt Gugino interjected.
“Great, now all we need is an eight-track player,” Bill teased. “We need the Rocky movie. And Rocky 2 and Rocky 3 and Rocky 20 if they got it yet. Matt, do you have those on Beta?”
Matt laughed and said, “Hey, it was a graduation gift.”
For the next three weeks, when Jerry was not in therapy, he was reading the books, listening to the music, or watching Rocky. Staff and friends were making signs and leaving him inspirational messages:
I know of no more encouraging fact than the unquestionable ability of man to elevate his life by a conscious endeavor.
—Henry David Thorea u
Only those who dare to fail greatly can ever achieve greatly.
—Robert Kennedy
The bravest are surely those who have the clearest vision of what is before them, glory and danger alike, and yet notwithstanding, go out to meet it.
—Thucydides
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
—Dylan Thomas
All life is a chance. So take it! The person who goes furthest is the one who is willing to do and dare.
—Dale Carnegie
On the day of the Rocky Run, Jerry was fully recovered from his infection but still had not gotten back physically to the point that he was at before the illness. He was anxious, but he had his support team, his friends from the hospital, his family, and therapist to help keep him focused. When they pulled up to the Art Museum, it was like a carnival:, the publicity was more than anyone could imagine. The Temple University marching band was there, lined up along one side of the stairs, and along the other side was the Philadelphia Eagles cheerleaders. Girl Scout and Boy Scout troops and their parents were there, ready to make the run with Jerry. Frank Mancuso, Tony, and Joe Battaglia drove the vans that carried Jerry and the rest of the hospital gang. Hospital administrators, doctors, and therapists from Magee greeted them there. It was a hero’s welcome. The Channel Six Action News Team was already in place. The plan was for Frank, Tony, and Joe, dressed up like Sylvester Stallone in Rocky -gray sweat suits and black high-tops, to take the wheelchair gang into the side entrance and up the elevator. When they were in place, the three would come down the stairs and that would be the signal for festivities to begin.
As the three started down the stairs, Jerry’s look of concern turned to jaw-dropping shock. Tony said to Jerry, “We met someone who would like to make the run with you. Jerry, I would like you to meet Sylvester Stallone.” Jerry was speechless.
Sylvester Stallone shook his hand and said, “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
Someone cued the band, and the trumpet blared that familiar anthem. The cheerleaders started singing, “It’s so hard now; trying hard now.”
Soon the crowd started chanting, “ROCKY! ROCKY! ROCKY!” But Stallone shut them down and started chanting, “JERRY! JERRY! JERRY!” Soon everyone joined in, and then Stallone shouted to Jerry, “Are you ready?”
Jerry found his voice and said, “Yes.”
Stallone repeated even louder, “Are you ready? I can’t hear you.”
Jerry growled, “I’M READY!”
“OK, LET’S GO!”
Jerry and Stallone took off with about fifty Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts close behind them. Jerry stayed stride-for-stride with Stallone. The band played. The cheerleaders sang. The crowd cheered. At the top, the celebration had begun. Balloons and confetti were being tossed around. Jerry and Stallone hit to top step at the same time. Pandemonium broke out. They did the Rocky dance at the top. Jerry looked for his mother. She was crying. He went over to the row of wheelchairs and hugged his buddies. Everyone was ecstatic. Soon people were calling for a speech. There was a podium set up. Jerry was led to the podium, but all he could say was, “I’m speechless.”
One of his friends yelled, “That is the first time that’s ever happened.” For a moment he still couldn’t come up with anything. Stallone came to his rescue in his Rocky character.
“Jerry, when I heard your story, I knew I wanted to be a part of it. It was a privilege to run with you today. Let me tell you something you already know. The world ain’t all sunshine and rainbows. It’s a very mean and nasty place, and I don’t care how tough you are, it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me, nobody can hit as hard as life. But it ain’t about how hard you’re hit. It’s about how hard you get hit and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done! That is what you have done, my friend.”
Jerry found his voice and said, “That is good stuff.” He said to Stallone, “You should use it in one of your movies.” Then the man with the prosthetic legs and tears in eyes said to the crowd, “Now I know how Lou Gehrig must have felt because today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth.”
The crowd went wild again, and Jerry was carried off as the band started playing the Rocky theme.
Chapter 11
Ready or Not
During his final two months at Magee, Michael focused on becoming as independent as possible. He learned about what medications he was to take and when; how to monitor his body; how to tell when a UTI was coming; and how to tell people the correct steps and procedures for transferring him from the chair to the bed and from the chair to the car; how to dress him and perform the necessary cleaning; and how to do the range-of-motion exercises he would need.
He made progress during the day, but the nights continued to haunt him—those villainous nights that would ambush him. His own demon fears, renegade emotions, and treasonous pride would run wild over his weakened spirit and broken body. At times, much to his own shame and pain, these mutinous thoughts would reduce Michael to a puddle of self-pitying tears. He would try to raise the drawbridge and lock the castle door to his mind, but these shrewd invaders would somehow slip through his best defenses. “What if I never walk again? What if I become a burden to my friends and family? Who will want to have a crippled man around all the time? Wil
l I end up living in a nursing home? Or worse, what if the doctors are right and I only live five years? What will that do to my parents? What is going to happen with Donna?” Michael dreaded the nights. He would pray for a miracle, pray that this was just a bad dream and that he would wake up in Donna’s arms in his own bed. He would pray for death to take him away from this nightmare and free his family and loved ones from this ordeal.
With about one month left at Magee, Carm finally went home to make sure everything was in place for Michael’s release. His father and brother-in-law had built a ramp leading into the house. Even though the insurance issues were still not settled, a local hospital supply house provided a bed with a trapeze, catheters, bed liners, and a myriad of other supplies. Anthony Battaglia protested at first, saying, “We don’t have the money for this yet.” The store’s owner, Mr. Flagella, said, “Anthony, I have known your family my whole life. Your father helped my father find a place to live and a job. Don’t worry about the money. When the insurance settles, I’ll get my money. I am not going to let your boy come home without what he needs. He has gone through enough already.”
The local Ford dealer was ready to order and modify a van with a drop floor, lift, and hand controls as soon as Michael had his power chair.
During her time at Jefferson and Magee, Carmela Battaglia had learned everything possible from the doctors and therapists. She was constantly asking questions and making the therapists show her how to do whatever Michael was going to need. She was ready for her son to come home.
February 15, six months and four days after the accident, Michael Battaglia was released from Magee. The insurance was still not settled, so after six months in a controlled environment, Michael left with a standard wheelchair. He was not happy, but the family had arranged for a hearing with a judge regarding the insurance at the end of February.
Dunkirk, New York, is a city full of wonderful, caring, and helpful people who will give you the shirts off their backs. Michael enjoyed being back with “his people,” but the Dunkirk winters are not navigable for a wheelchair user. On many days in February and early March, Michael was not able to leave the house with his standard push chair due to the large amount of snow on the sidewalks and streets. He remembered Nunzio’s words: “For the past seven or eight months, we lived in a hospital. There are people here to take our vital signs every four hours, make meals, help us with all our treatments, and immediately take care of anything that goes wrong. These people are angels of mercy. They aren’t going to be there in the real world.”
Five Years to Live Page 12
