The Midnight Caller
 

I try not to see him but his shadow crosses my mind.  He visits me in dreams, teasing with visions of the past or impossible hopes for the future.

I first noticed him in October 1991.  He'd been there since the end of June, but there were other events and situations occupying my mind.  The ghost was REAL, as was the new person then in my life.  The ghost arrogantly stands just behind my quadriplegic son.  In 1997, we are less aware of his presence.

Most importantly I would touch you with my story about this ghost and what he has left behind for us to learn.  Since Scott's accident, I have met so many victims of paralysis and their parents, brothers, sisters, friends.  NEVER would I choose this lesson; but having had it placed before us in no small or gentle way, we have also been given the opportunity to meet the most wonderfully brave, determined people that one could ever hope to become acquainted with.  Those who must endure the injury come in all shapes and sizes and degrees of injury.  Those of us who can really only watch and be there... for whatever... also come in all shapes and sizes and types. 

I was so very, very fortunate and blessed during the time when this tragedy struck me and mine.  Family, friends, new friends from work and in other environments who had previously been total strangers.  People and experiences as "foreign" as the most distant alien could ever be became as close as the most intimate family members had been.

Robin, Michael and Robert were the first "new friends."  Each played their own separate role.  Robin was the counselor who involved me in the support group, the manuals and informational resources available, and who introduced me to Michael and the outstanding resources available in Orlando.  Michael, another victim of spinal cord injury, just a year older than my son and whose injury was almost identical (level), and who was injured about 6 weeks before Scott's accident:  Michael and I were in Orlando; Scott was in Missouri.  Hell Week in Chesterfield lasted a week; then I had to return to Orlando where I would work three weeks, then return to spend a week in Missouri with Scott (Chesterfield first, then St. Louis later).  During the three weeks away from Scott, I would spend time with Michael.  At first, it was to help me learn... but also, I was hoping while I was spending time with Michael in Orlando, someone was doing likewise with Scott in Chesterfield, then St. Louis.  In truth, Scott had Rachel and much, much family.  I told myself and Scott that by going away, I was giving him my confidence that we'd get through this.  The mother in me was so torn....  How could I stay?  How could I leave?  If I didn't keep my job and my life together, how could I help Scott in the days ahead...?  But how could I leave him?  Answer:  I had to... but only until I could come back.  My youngest son, Roger, Scott's brother, gave me the answers.  So while away, I spent time with Michael, and we became real friends.  I still do but less than during those first two-three years.  Five years later, unbelievable at the time, it seems life does have a way of going on, filling up again... for both the victims and for those who love the ones who have been injured.