Mike Greg

There are many things that happen on the road to recovery.

It is one in the morning, and I have left my wife in our bed as I search the keys trying to make sense of this grief that has overwhelmed me.

There are very few moments that I  have been so sad at losing a person--even now I find it hard to compose the words that I hope will come out of my soul and be a touching tribute to this man, my friend.

Mike Greg was my friend.  Before he left the Center he planned to return to work.  His job said he could return to work, and I was ecstatic for him.  

Val in occupational therapy had told him normally she would usually be the person that would okay his discharge--that because he had been okay to return to work--she normally would make sure he was ready--I apologize, I do not have the words to write this post.

I was so happy for Mike.  He was highly functional, and he had an infectious smile and personality. 

We all looked on him as a sort of big brother--even in Physical Therapy where I saw him as a kind of god..

He was an amputee and just like me he had diabetes.  His right foot had been removed, and he had a prosthetic limb.  

He still moved like a champion.  In all honesty I have no skills at all.  What I mean is I have been a very lax most of my life.

Mike was magnetic.  

I certainly do no know if he had any natural ability in sports but he carried himself like he had skills--and said skills paid the bills.

Mike also had a brain injury. 

He carried himself well, and he felt for other patients here at the Center.  

He told me that certain patients could not help the way they acted.  

I think I understood more about brain injury because of Mike.

Mike did his best, but he was ready to go.

Gerald referred to Mike "ghosting" his last days at the clinic.  I never got to say goodbye to him, but he gave me his phone number.  He texted me often.  

I remember texting of Tuesday of this week, apologizing that he had not heard from me, saying that I missed him and we all "aspired to be like him." I sent him about six emojis hoping they would make up for not texting him more.

Mike had died the previous Friday.

I did not know until yesterday.  I was in the cafeteria and Jeff another patient mentioned Mike,  I did not hear him, so I said, "How is Mike I miss him."

That was when Jeff told me Mike had died.

Even now I remember taking off my mask, and I was just speechless.  All I could do was shake my head and stand there like a "derp."  I pride myself on walking around the Center but my legs wanted to buckle beneath me.  All I could say was in disbelief.  "He's dead?"

Jeff nodded and I just left the cafeteria.

And even now I do not have the words.

I can not sleep.  I can only pound the keys trying to make sense of Mike's death.  I just do not have words at the moment.  

I miss you brother.