Five Years to Live

by Frank Zaccari

  Michael looked up Bill’s wife’s address and gave it to him over the phone. Then Michael said, “I sorry, I side tracked you. So why did you call?”

  “Well, there were two things I wanted to tell you.” Jerry tried to regain some enthusiasm, but he was minimally successful after that heartbreaking news. “I ran into little Bobby King. He wanted me to send you his best.”

  “Wow, little Bobby King, what is he doing now?” Michael’s voice rose sharply.

  “You haven’t heard?” Jerry sounded surprised. “He’s a state senator in Pennsylvania. I recently saw him when I ran up the One Liberty Place building in Philadelphia.”

  “Impressive.” Michael exclaimed. “Hey, wait a minute, why are you still running up buildings? The ADA was passed eleven years ago.”

  “That was the other thing I was calling you about. I now run for a fund-raiser group for disabled vets. I thought you were still in Buffalo and I was calling because I have two runs coming up near Buffalo, and I wanted to see if we could get together. But when I called your parents, they told me that you had moved to Phoenix.”

  “Well,” Michael said, “I am planning a trip back east for Thanksgiving. Where are you going to be and when are you going to be there? Maybe we can get together.”

  “Let’s see,” Jerry took a moment to look through his papers for his schedule and then he said, “I am going to be at the Key Tower in Cleveland on August thirtieth, and then—get this—I am going to run both buildings of the World Trade Center on September 11. That is right, folks,” Jerry said as if he was the announcer for a radio commercial, “mark your calendars, September 11, 2001, Jerry Cromwell will attempt to run up both buildings of the Twin Towers.”

  Michael said with great disappointment, “Sorry, Jerry. I would love to come, but I won’t be able to get away then, I am up to my ass in alligators here. But let me know the next time you come to Phoenix. Okay? ”

  “Okay, Buddy,” Jerry said, sounding more like himself now. “I will do that. Well, I got to run. Talk to you later.”

  Jerry Cromwell was one of the 2,752 heroes who died during the terrorist attack on September 11, 2001. He had the opportunity to escape, but he stayed to help other people get out. He died doing what he loved to do: helping others.

  Chapter 22

  The Best Is Yet to Come

  Having suffered through the deaths of his three closest friends from Magee, Michael was more determined than ever to survive his accident by fifty years. His health seemed to have stabilized. There were still the UTIs but not as often or as severe. He had not been hospitalized since combining traditional medicine and the holistic approach. In the words of his primary doctor, the combination of medicine and voodoo seemed to be working. As the calendar turned to 2005, the family that had once prepared to lose its son and brother within five years was about to celebrate the twenty-year anniversary of Michael’s accident. Michael continued to amaze the medical community and baffle the insurance industry. When the twenty-year anniversary arrived, the insurance company in conjunction with Craig Rehabilitation in Denver sent people to see Michael and Mary.

  The representatives from Craig said, “We would like to have you come to Denver for a week, Michael. Given your injury and the time of your injury, your life expectancy was projected to be five years. You have beaten the odds, and we would like to do a full examination to try to determine how you beat the odds and how we can replicate your success. As you know, there has been a significant change in the area of spinal cord research. We are testing stem cell research. We have programs like the Miami Project and The Christopher Reeves Foundation, which have raised both awareness and money for spinal cord research. For example, we can now perform surgery to give you back the dexterity in your hands.”

  Michael responded, “I appreciate what you are telling me, but I have adjusted my life to deal with my limitations. I am not interested in the surgery because it will make me totally incapacitated during the recovery period. This will change my routine and procedures that my aides will have to perform. There are always complications with surgery. I know how to deal with what I have, but I am not willing to deal with the unknown. That being said, if your tests and studies can help another person, then I am open to your offer.”

  Mary looked at the female representative from the insurance company and asked, “Why are you here?”

  The woman was clearly nervous as she responded, “Well, it’s important for us to understand how the improvements in science and medicine will improve the quality of life.” After a pregnant pause, she continued with more conviction, “We all want our clients to live healthy and productive lives.”

  Mary glared at the woman and said, “Cut the shit, lady. You want to determine how much longer he has to live and how much more it is going to cost you.”

  Now very flustered, the woman answered, “Yes, that is part of it. We do have to set aside the money.” She paused before rallying and said, “We have to make sure we have set aside the appropriate funds so Michael is provided the best possible care.”

  “Good recovery,” was all Mary said.

  “So what’s next?” Michael asked.

  The Craig representative answered, “We would like you to come to Denver in two weeks if that works with your schedule. We will do a complete and total physical workup. This will include time with urology, cardiology, pulmonary, neurology, orthopedics, and kinesiology. In addition we want our occupational, psychological, dietary, and nutritional teams to have in-depth interviews. What you have accomplished has as much to do with your will and determination as medicine. We would like to make you a case study for the spinal cord world.”

  “We are asking you for your time, Michael,” the insurance representative said. “I know this is a major imposition, and we will pay for everything and provide you with fully trained aides around the clock.”

  Michael looked at Mary and asked, “What do you think?”

  “Well, you have always said, ‘If what I have gone through can help just one other person then I am willing to help.’ Michael, this will help many people, plus we will learn some new and better techniques for you.”

  Everyone agreed and the date was set.

  After one week in Denver, the doctors and support staff were all impressed. “He is remarkably healthy given the level of his injury and that it occurred twenty years ago,” was the comment heard most often. The urologist shared a new type of catheter and procedure to “self-cath,” which Michael found interesting. The orthopedic team tried in vain to convince Michael to have the surgery to restore the use of his hands. He repeated to the orthopedic team, “I know what I am doing, and I am not willing to be incapacitated again even for a short period of time. I’ve lived with this for twenty years.” At the end of the week, the medical team could not come up with any one reason why Michael had beaten the odds.

  It was the lead psychiatrist’s conclusion that was presented to Michael, Mary, and the entire medical team: they needed to take spinal cord rehabilitation as an entire entity, which included drugs, traditional and non-traditional medicine, diet, exercise, social services, the patient’s personal support group, and mental health therapy. “We have to look at every aspect of a patient’s life and all areas must work in unison.” His recommendation was full reviews with modifications to treatment every two to three years. He did admit this type of detailed reviews would be far easier said than done. “What medicine and science cannot account for is the will or the heart or the desire of the patient and the patient’s support group.” Michael asked, “So how much longer are you predicting I will live?”

  The psychiatrist just laughed and said, “No one can predict this, Michael. You have already beaten the odds. Keep doing what you are doing and stay in touch with your doctors. I do know this: what we have learned from you will help us create better treatment and rehabilitation programs in the future.”

  Michael smiled and said, “I owe it to my friends Nunzio, Bill, and Jerry. Plus, I made a pr
omise to myself back at Magee that I was going to live another fifty years. I am going to die of old age, not from this injury.” Mary laughed and said, “I bet the insurance company is going to shit when they hear this news.”

  “Believe it or not,” the psychiatrist said, “this is going to help insurance companies. It is far less costly to provide multiple wheelchairs or modified vans or nutritional counseling than it is to cover constant hospitalization, surgeries, and dialysis treatments. It just reinforces the old wives’ tale that an ounce of prevention is worth more than a pound of cure. Take care of yourself, Michael. You have been an inspiration to us here at Craig.”

  Michael returned to Phoenix and continued to live his very busy and active life. In 2009 when Michael’s parents, Carm and Anthony, came out for their yearly visit, it was painfully evident to everyone that this would be Carm’s last visit. Her health was deteriorating. Her doctors had recommended open heart surgery to repair a failing valve, but Carm would have no part of the discussion. She said to her children, “Even if I survive this surgery and the long rehabilitation, how long will it extend my life? One or two years? And the quality of my life will be terrible. I have lived long enough. I am ready when God says it’s time.” Then she looked up to heaven and said, “Are you listening, God? I have to be here for my grandson Christopher’s wedding in July. After that I’m all yours.” This made the whole family laugh.

  It was heartbreaking to see Carm, who had always been the foundation of the family, look so tired. During this trip to Phoenix, she slept more and relaxed in the Phoenix sun, which she said always made her arthritis feel better. Even the cooking duties, which she took pride in, fell more and more to her husband, Anthony.

  One night after Mary, Michael, and Bill had a late night at the Abilities Unlimited office, they came over for a late dinner with Bill’s wife and children, Richard Howe, and the rest of the Battaglia family. They said grace and, when they were half-way into the spaghetti bowl that Anthony had prepared, Bill asked Michael, “If I could wave a magic wand that would give you your life back the way it was before you had your accident, would you choose that life or your life in the wheelchair?”

  Michael answered in a heartbeat, “I’d take the chair.”

  Carm, surprised and dismayed, asked, “Why, Michael, why would you put yourself through all of this suffering?”

  Michael said, “Because I am a better person because of it.”

  Bill agreed, “Me too. I am a better husband, a better father,” he paused a moment to looked fondly at his wife and children, “and a better man.”

  Carm lowered her head and whispered this simple supplication, “Dear God, don’t let me die until I can be as gracious and good as these two fine men.”

  In early May 2009, Donna finally got the ambition to track down Michael. She was able to get his cell phone number from one of the assistants at Abilities Unlimited.

  “Hi, Michael, this is Donna Harris, a voice from your past coming back to haunt you.”

  “Donna Harris, what a pleasant surprise,” Michael said. “Don’t you mean Donna Harris-Collins?”

  “Well, there is no more Collins. Tim and I got divorced almost six years ago.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. ”

  “Thanks,” Donna said. “It’s happens. It was for the best in the long run.”

  “So other than the divorce, how have you been? I mean, do you still live in Delhi? Do you have any children? Do you still work for the county?”

  Donna laughed nervously then said, “I have two daughters, Michelle who is eighteen and Courtney who is sixteen.”

  “I’ll bet they keep you busy,” Michael laughed.

  “They do keep me busy and constantly on the edge of sanity.” They both laughed. “To answer your other questions, yes, I still live in Delhi and work for the county. Their father and I get along okay, and both families have been a great help, but enough about me. I Googled your name a while back, and I nearly fell over when I read all that you have done.”

  “I’m doing okay. I’ve been in Phoenix since 1989. I’ve stayed relatively healthy and just do what I can.” Michael paused for moment then continued, “It is so good to hear your voice again.”

  Donna smiled, “It’s good to hear your voice too. My daughter Michelle has been accepted at Buffalo State so I am finally going to be spending more time in Buffalo.”

  Michael laughed and said, “I knew that someday you would end up in Buffalo. But seriously, Buff State is a great school. That is where I got my master’s, and so did my sister Mary.”

  “I remember when you when getting your master’s. So do you ever get back to Buffalo?”

  “I come every year for the Battaglia reunion around the Fourth of July, but this year I will be there the last weekend in July because Christopher, do you remember him? Well, Christopher is getting married. ”

  “Oh my God,” Donna exclaimed, “little Christopher is getting married. I can’t believe it.”

  “Well, believe it. Little Christopher is six-foot-two, a third-degree black belt, and working in the health care field. Kristin, his wife, well, wife-to-be, is from Buffalo. She works in international banking.”

  “Wow, good job, Christopher. So how are you doing?”

  The two continued to talk for another thirty minutes, just catching up on family and friends. Finally Donna said, “Michael, I hope we can continue to talk. My daughter has her orientation at Buffalo State the last weekend in July. If all goes well I’d love to see you and have a Starbucks when you come out for the wedding.”

  “I’d love to see you again, Donna. Let’s stay in touch. You have my number, and now I have yours, so let’s talk in a couple weeks and continue to catch up.”

  Michael hung up the phone, turned to his mother, and said, “You will never guess who that was.”

  “Who?”

  “That was Donna Harris.”

  “Really,” Carm said with surprise. “Donna from Delhi?”

  “Yes, Donna from Delhi. She is divorced and has two daughters, one of whom is going to Buff State this fall.”

  “Oh, so she is divorced,” Carm said, somewhat suspicious. “That explains a lot. Have you two stayed in touch over the years?”

  “No, not really. We did Christmas cards several years ago, but then she got married and had children, and we lost touch. It was nice to talk to her. I told her about Christopher, and she said her daughter has her freshman orientation at Buff State the same weekend as the wedding.”

  “What a coincidence,” Carm said, mocking surprise.

  “What do you mean by that, Mom?”

  “Oh nothing!”

  This exchange brought a chuckle from his father. “It will be good to see Donna again. Invite her to the wedding.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Michael said, “what are the two of you talking about? We might have a cup of coffee, who said anything about going to the wedding?”

  After Michael and his father left for an ASU softball game, Carm called her daughter Anne. “Anne, add another person to the invitation list.”

  “Who?” Anne asked.

  “Donna Harris. I think she is going to be Michael’s date.”

  “Oh my God! Donna from Delhi?”

  “Yes,” Carm said. “They talked on the phone. Donna is divorced, and her daughter has her freshman orientation at Buffalo State the weekend of the wedding. The two of them plan to meet and have coffee, but it will be more than that.”

  “That’s convenient,” Anne said sarcastically. “Okay, I will add her to the list. Do you think I should plan on her to be at the rehearsal dinner too?”

  “Might be a good idea,” Carm said.

  Michael and Donna continued to talk a few more times. They made plans to meet for coffee at the hotel in Buffalo on the Friday before the wedding.

  Chapter 23

  It Is What It Is

  Weddings are a huge event for the Battaglia family. The family comes out in full force for the bridal shower
s, and the new couple is provided with many of the practical things they will need. If the soon-to-be in-laws expected gifts like art, pictures, or knick-knacks, they soon found out they married into the wrong family. Many non-Italians are surprised by the shower gifts, but the sprawling Battaglia family knows what’s important. For example, shower gifts included a spaghetti strainer; a ravioli maker; measuring cups and spoons; containers to store spaghetti, macaroni, and rice; special handwritten recipe books from several relatives; everyday dishes and silverware; bottles of olive oil; and sheets and pillowcases. The message is clear: make sure you eat and get your rest.

  On Wednesday the family started to descend on Buffalo. This would provide enough people to make sure all the last-minute stuff was done. The family took up one entire floor at the hotel, and the party was in full swing. Two adjoining rooms were designated as the food room. The rooms were constantly stocked with homemade Italian food, desserts, plus all the Buffalo staples like pizza, wings, and beef on weck (that is roast beef on kummelweck rolls for non-western New Yorkers), fruits, nuts, cases of Genny cream ale (Gennesse Beer, again, for non-western New Yorkers), and bottles of wine. Friends and family came and went. They ate, talked, and laughed. Everyone congratulated Christopher and his parents Anne and Matt, but the most important thing everyone did was pay their respects to Carm and Anthony Battaglia. At Italian weddings, after the bride, the next highest position of honor belongs to the grandparents. Everyone was so happy for Carm. They all knew this would be the last of her grandchildren’s weddings she would attend. Everyone wanted to share this moment of joy with Carm. Despite her failing health, Carm made sure she got enough rest during the day so she would be an active participant at every event.

  The big event on Friday was the rehearsal dinner. Anne had reserved the entire banquet room at Chef’s, one of the legendary Buffalo Italian restaurants on Seneca Street. At ten o’clock in the morning, the dazzling summer sun washed the sky blue as Michael sat in the courtyard of a hotel flanked by his four nieces, who asked, “What are you doing out here by yourself, Uncle Mike?”