Donny-Personal Narrative

Anything, but normal would describe my eldest son Donald, or as he prefers Donny or Don. His timing was impeccable when he came into this world two weeks early on opening deer hunting weekend. By the way, nothing stops an opener in a family of avid hunters, not even a baby. His dad was there to see him into the world for about a day. Back then, it was common practice for a 7-day hospital stay after a C-section, talk of postpartum blues, I cried the whole time. When I look back, I see a sweet, happy-go-lucky boy always wanting to please and make everyone around him happy. Our entertainer, with his sun bleached blond hair and sparkling brown eyes making him irresistible, especially to girls. We jokingly called Don Juan. He left a path of destruction
He fell backwards down the stairs and hit his head on the concrete floor at his best friend Jason’s house. Donny’s life started over that day and our worst nightmare began. I thought, I remembered that day with clarity. After talking to Donny’s brother Cory this past weekend, it seems the memories are fading with time as they often do. The phone only rings once when I hear my four-year-old grandson Beau singing in the background. Cory is yelling at Ralph, their Great Dane to quit chasing squirrels in the backyard. In an accusing tone he
As we sat there on the edge of our sets stunned and speechless, I remember thinking what part of my child had he removed. How do you wrap your mind around that? By the end of that weekend, Donny’s brain damage was extensive. Mostly, to the left front lobe of his brain leaving him with virtually no short-term or long-term memory, he speaks in two and three word sentences, lacks inhibitions, and has paralyzes to his right side. Later, we would find out a stroke spot in the back of the brain caused damage to the vision center and scientifically not capable of vision. This was just the beginning of a long endless journey of hospitals, nursing homes, and group homes. Because of complications with seizures and aspirated pneumonia, he participated in the brain-injury stimulation program at Bethesda Hospital in St. Paul, previously denied by insurance because of its exploratory nature. He was a tall, lanky 6”2’ young man, weighing 148 pounds on that frigid February morning. When we checked him into Bethesda on May 9 of 1997, he was a skeletal 108 pounds. This was Donny’s turning point when his will to survive kicked into full gear and he never looked