Stryker Brigade News

Jim Moffet arrived on time in a spiffy outfit he made himself (He wasn't the very model of a modern major general, but he looked pretty good). We lugged the four bags into wife Audrey Johnson's van and departed for the airport. We arrived, unloaded and got checked in at the curbside device. I learned the hard way that the automatic heaters at the curbside check-in area are not made with people my size in mind. I kept feeling this death ray sweeping across the back of my head, but when I turned, it went away. I finally noticed that I was mere inches away from this heater just in time to avoid burning away as much as Scott lost in surgery. It was HOT back there.

We parted with Jim and thanked him again for his friendship and hospitality, shook hands and hugged him good-bye. Makes me wish he lived next door.

One of the nice things about a military career is you get to make lifelong friendships with people all over the world and then not see them again for twenty years. Fortunately, I get to see Jim for three days a year at a game convention in Lancaster, PA, so I won't have to wait so long.

We went inside the terminal and I found a TSA agent. I wanted to know what special accomodations where in place for people like Scott. I was told to take him to the employee entrance over by United Airlines. We went there and I showed the first man (one of those airport guys in the blazers) the VA letter and his ID card (the one from Walter Reed that shows Scott with wide eyes and missing skull). He saw the card and his head shot up to look at Scott. He said, "This is enough. I need no letter." Apparently, he has some personal connection to Iraq or the Middle East, from his very respectful reaction to Scott.

The TSA guys, on the other hand, we not all that sharp. They were looking at the stuff going through the machines and not so much at the people. Scott went through first and I couldn't stop them from taking him off someplace. I tried to get one agent's attention to show him the VA letter, which clearly says someone from his family is necessary to help him communicate and to let them assist. I could only hope Scott was able to communicate well enough and not get too frustrated while I tried to get through myself and keep laptop and other goodies spread out over the conveyor belt from disappearing. I finally got through the machine and caught up with Scott. He told me they wanted to see his head, which really irritates me no end. Next time, when you see a guy with an obvious problem next to a guy with a letter to explain that problem going through an employee entrance and they're obviously not employees, you might not screw up so badly.

Just to make this clear: The TSA guys working the employees only line this morning in Minneapolis were idiots.

Anyway, Scott showed me how he showed his head, so I hope the nitwit got an eyeful. Scott pulled the helmet up just enough, snapped his head toward the agent, just stopping from head-butting him. "See!" and then he put it back on. Oh, yeah, and he rolls his eyes, too. All I could do was grin.

We got on the plane with the pre-boards (I'm with George Carlin on that term--get on before you get on?!) and hoped no one took the window seat. Scott looked at everybody coming on the plane and we were probably holding our breath until the door closed. At one point, a gate agent came and asked us if somebody was sitting there. Nope! The seat was ours and Scott moved over to it. I had the aisle and the middle was empty. That is, until Scott changed his helmet for a ball cap and buckled the helmet on to the empty seat with great show.

We took off and passed the VA hospital soon after we did. Scott recognized the building and took a keen interest in Minneapolis from the air. Eventually, we were able to put the DVD player to good use and picked up the Star Wars Trilogy where we left off last night.

Sometime later, we got the $7.00 lunches, which aren't worth $7.00, but hey... I think each of us dozed at least a little on the movies as the flight was pretty smooth until we hit the Rockies. Bumpy ride for ten minutes or so and then nothing much until we hit the coastal mountains of California. Scott was pretty much glued to the window on approach and was happy when we touched down.

Scott's brother Dan, his son Kellan and Julie came by (several times) and picked us up. Not much to report on the way back, except Kellan saying "WOW!" every time he saw a plane in the air. (I know how he feels). It was also a bit windy on the way up to Escondido and I was surprised by the traffic for a Saturday.

The afternoon and evening passed nicely with football, take out Chinese from our favorite place and getting Kellan to say his colors. Being the child of a Vikings fan, he can say purple and yellow very well. During the Atlanta-Carolina game, Dan told me Kellan can also signal scores. I thought this would be a good time to go through the rest of the signals while we were at it. I'd do the signal and say what the signal meant. Kellan couldn't get the words right, making a sound that was similar, but he nailed all the signals his little arms were capable of making. Safety (both hands held together over the head--my personal favorite, by the way) was hard because his hands don't come together over his head yet. I was impressed that he got illegal motion and illegal shift. He even used the correct arm instead of just mirroring what he saw. We all decided he'd had enough by the time I got to "assisting the runner." (I think this holds true for us at football official association meetings, too.) He looked pretty cute trying to do personal foul, roughing the passer.

It certainly feels good to have Scott home again. Phase II, as I've been calling it, is over. Phase III is the post-acute TBI rehabilitation/waiting for restorative surgery phase. He'll be going to therapy, living at home, and probably some slow return to military-related skills while waiting for the cranioplasty. Phase IV is the cranioplasty and recovery from surgery phase. Phase V is "I don't know" phase right now. If he recovers as well in the next three months as he did in the first three, who knows where he'll be.

I read someplace at Bethesda that TBI recovery is not a sprint, it's a marathon. All I know is I've been working hard for three months and I'm ready to pass him on to Tiffany after a short break with us for the holidays. Maybe the best analogy might be some kind of long-distance relay event. Thanks to everybody who helped us get this far and encouraged us all to keep running even if we didn't have any idea where we were going.

As far as updates go, they'll be written as things come up during this next phase. I wouldn't expect to see daily updates after early January. Just when things happen or to summarize how the week went, that kind of thing.

So don't freak out, okay?

ST