Onyx
Knowing today is finally the day Ollie is being released, my nerves are all over the place, for Christ’s sake. His progress regarding his injuries is totally right on track. The left hip is healing from being rebuilt and his ankle is plated and pinned. Once he’s able to put weight on that side of his body, intense physical therapy will become his best friend. Eventually, he’ll be motoring around like normal.
But besides those major injuries, his left side is a canvas of scars from his hip to the ankle. Can’t remember how many stitches and staples were used to close him up. Still, it’s his mental status that has me super concerned. He’s fighting taking the medication, which is only making his outbursts more intense. He’s sinking farther into the black hole of depression, which makes the PTSD worse. I’ve talked to both our mom and dad, who suggested, no argued then demanded that Ollie should come back home to Montana to recover—like Big Sky country can heal everything. Well, that’s how our folks think. And since five of their seven children still live in our hometown, I guess their minds are telling them that’s the answer.
I’ve tried to keep them both in the loop of Ollie’s recovery as much as possible, but with HIPAA and his security clearance as a SEAL, it has been pretty difficult. Even though he’s been put out to pasture, so to speak, he knows too much therefore his medical records are locked up. Being an oncology nurse, I don’t have the clearance to unlock them. And the brute asshole my brother can be is being tight-lipped, which isn’t helping at all. Thank God I’m pretty good friends with the physical therapy department because that’s how I’m getting all my updates.
And the word hasn’t been too good. Ollie has had some pretty intense breakdowns during his PT. I think twice they’ve had to sedate him because they thought he might get violent. Wouldn’t believe it, except a few times when I’ve gone to check on him while he was asleep and waking him up was interesting. Let’s see, I’ve had a black eye, cracked lip, and sprained wrist. Leave it to my big brother to beat the shit outta me when he’s asleep. But I get it, the demons are running wild up there in his head. That’s why he’s got to get with the program.
Once he’s released and I get him settled at home, I’ll need to have a serious conversation with him. Ollie feels like he is the only one suffering with, as he puts it, ‘the fucked-up head.’ Well, he’s in for a big surprise because I’ve been dealing with depression since I left the Navy. The only things that seem to help are the meds and living on a schedule of work, exercise, healthy food, and good amounts of sleep. When I don’t follow this routine, my anxiety goes way up and I fall into deep and dark depressive moods. Also, I speak to a therapist every couple of weeks. So big bro and I are going to sit down and really chat.
Though for now, I’m driving to the hospital in my dream ride, a Lincoln Aviator, to get him. So, he’s being picked up in style, not that I think it will matter, his mind is scattered all over. He just wants the fuck out. I finally took some time off, which for me is rare, so my supervisor was all for it. I’ve lost vacation time because I couldn’t roll it all over. I spent the last couple of days rearranging my rambling ranch so Ollie will be able to get around. One of the things that made me buy this house was that the bedrooms are separated by the main living areas. My master is way on the other side, so Olls will have his own space and privacy. I also moved the great room around because, for the time being, he’s got to get around in a wheelchair, which of course he’s not at all happy about. I made these changes throughout the house to make sure he has room to maneuver.
I called the nurses’ station about an hour ago and they said that once his release paperwork is done, he is able to break out of there. So, on the way I stopped and picked up a couple of sweet treats for his floor nurses, who have had to put up with this confused, angry, and unappreciative Ollie. Which is not how he usually is. I want them to know how much we both appreciate them and all they’ve done for him.
Parking in the employee lot, I scramble through the front doors, greeting some folks I know as I make my way to the elevators. Once on his floor, I walk up to the nurses’ area and see Cindie at the desk.
“Hey, girl, brought some sugar to keep y’all hyped up enough to get through your shift.”
Raising her eyes, she looks at what I’m holding in my arms then reaches over snatching the top two boxes.
“No way, you stopped at Joe’s bakery. Damn, Onyx, you’re the best. Got to grab what I want first because once it goes in the break room the vultures will run back there and, before you know it, all of the good stuff will be gone. Screw the diet today.”
I look at her, not understanding why she’s even on a diet. She looks good. Way thinner than me and I know for a fact she’s religious about going to the gym. Well, to each their own.
“How’s he been this morning? Any better? Hoping with news of his release he’d cheer up a bit.”
Shaking her head as she takes in what’s in the boxes, I wait for her to make her choices which she wraps in a couple of napkins.
“Sistah, your brother is really suffering. Not only from his injuries and the depression, but don’t think anyone is able to address the loss of some of his team members. It’s literally tearing him apart. I’ve heard him call out during his nightmares and, Onyx, it brings tears to my eyes to listen. Try to be calm and tolerant of his erratic behavior. It’s understandable and all the shrinks are worrying about is making sure he’s ‘okay’ to get back tolife,so they can throw him into it and move on. He needs to talk to other survivors who have made it out of similar situations and are actually able to assimilate in this ever changing world. Sorry, don’t mean to get on my soapbox but I see it all the time when our ‘people’ come back from combat, fucked up and hurt. I’m here if you need help. Kind of like your brother, he’s one of the good ones. Hate to see him in pain.”
Reaching over, I grab her hand and squeeze. We used to work together on the oncology floor, but Cindie got burned out and moved down here. I think she fits in better here anyway. She leads with her heart all the way.
“Thanks so much, sweetie, I’ll keep that in mind when I’m dealing with the usual shit he throws my way. If all the paperwork is done, I’ll go get his grumpy ass now and give y’all a much-needed break. Again, means the world the care he’s gotten here. Ollie might not say it, but I so appreciate it.”
“Girl, you know we take care of our own. Someone has to.”
As she looks at the computer then grabs a release folder with all instructions on what’s next for Ollie, I take in a deep breath and prepare. This isn’t going to be any fun, but we’re family and that’s what family does for each other. I smile to myself because again, that’s one of Mom’s favorite sayings.
Turning, I head down toward his room, expecting the unknown because lately that’s how I’ve had to roll when dealing with Ollie.