Spending six weeks in St. Mary's hospital with Spenser has given me a new perspective on how serious injuries affect an individual. I am certain this particular course of study would not be endorsed by Dr. Freud, however, since the old man has long since passed into the great beyond, we will never know for certain.
As I have been watching the patients in this hospital, the resident psychologist has been watching me. The bloke has taken to inspecting me rather closely, and has begun to ask disturbing questions like, "Do you realize you are constantly tugging at your right ear and mumbling incoherent statements?" I have asked the misdirected man to please leave me be, and to focus his attentions on someone more in need of his services. My requests have resulted in even closer scrutiny, and comments like, "Very curious."
Initially, I focused my attentions exclusively on Spenser and was unaware of the tragedy surrounding me. Spenser's ATV accident had caused serious head trauma, requiring complicated brain surgery that surely saved his life. Hour after hour I sat and watched my son, hoping and praying he would awaken from his deep sleep. As Spenser regained consciousness, he reached out to us with love, compassion and a deep-seated set of values.
The hospital staff who came to know Spenser grew to love him. He expressed his gentle nature with open appreciation for the kind and compassionate care of the doctors and nurses, which resulted in vigilant care that kept him from slipping away. It was at this time I began to form the hypothesis that an individual's true nature is revealed in life threatening situations.
As Spenser emerged, I also awakened to the world around me and my thesis began to gel. Not long after my awakening, I noticed a seemingly roughhewn individual in the room next to my son. This man had also sustained a head injury and was working his way back to the world he had known prior to the accident. His upbringing had apparently been close to the earth, which his colorful outbursts aptly demonstrated, and he returned there quite often. He seemed comforted by anything that took him back to the soil, and I realized I was seeing his raw, exposed persona; unvarnished by years spent away from the land.
After Spenser moved into the rehabilitation ward, and we established ourselves in his new room, he and I were regularly serenaded by a Navajo medicine man who sang and chanted traditional melodies. These songs and chants came in the wee hours of the night, and were provided by Hastiin Yanito. Mr. Yanito had been involved in a serious car accident several weeks prior to our arrival and was experiencing a recovery every bit as miraculous as Spenser's.
Since he had served a stint in the military and was educated as a teacher, Hastiin Yanito speaks English very well. The pain from his injury, however, took him back to his roots and traditional language. Often he spoke only Navajo to his doctors and nurses, exerting his special sense of self and pride in his strengths as a Native American, teacher and medicine man. Polite and distinguished, he expressed himself in traditional Navajo ways, which was revealed in his choice of language and means of expressing his beliefs.
Spenser often noticed the songs and chants drifting through the rehabilitation ward and seemed enchanted and calmed by the peaceful intonations. As a result, we had several discussions about Navajo culture and its origin. Spenser and I missed Hastiin Yanito when he moved from our floor to a rehabilitation facility in Mancos, Colorado, and wished him God speed.
After several weeks of careful investigation, I have concluded that no matter what we wish to portray, our real personality emerges when we are faced with life threatening injuries. Suffering coaxes the beauty or the beast from the hidden recesses of our minds, and we are incapable of hiding our true nature. I am proud to say that Spenser has proven his mettle through this ordeal; he has been polite, conscientious, kind and extremely determined to regain his full capacity. He has also never lost sight of what his mother and I have taught him about compassion and love for his fellow human beings.
Now that I have come to understand this aspect of psychology, I may go find that psychologist and discuss the ear tugging and incomprehensible statements. I may be able to teach him a thing or two about human nature, and I may have stumbled upon my next career.
Sincerely,
Barry
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