Jean's Wounded Warrior Project
Chapter 3: Dazed and Confused
I dedicate this story to all the brave men and women in uniform who have served this country.
This story takes place in the late 1960s.
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After Jean's brief explanation on her return, I remained eager to discuss the disturbing events of that night. I was desperate to reach an understanding with my loving wife, but the timing never seemed right. For nearly a week, she was withdrawn. I let her have time to recover, but one week without talking about it stretched into two, then three. In hindsight, I realize it was a mistake not to get it all out into the open early because not talking about it meant I obsessed about it continuously. I went over every detail of the night that Derek cuckolded me until I thought my head would explode. There is a term in psychology for what I was doing. Storing up your grievances for later is called gunny-sacking. Boy, was my bag full!
What bothered me the most was my wife hiding the truth. She had implied that the first time she met Derek was on the plane flight home. I tried to remember her exact words when she introduced me to Derek, but my memory was dulled by all the wine and weed we did that night. The more I thought about her easy-going relationship with the big black soldier, the more I came to believe she'd known him earlier and known him well.
After all, he had recently recovered from an injury he received in Nam, serving in the same platoon as my wife's brother. It made sense that Jean had met him in the hospital where she had been helping her brother recuperate from his traumatic brain injury. Who knows how she expressed her gratitude to Derek for saving her brother's life. I realized I might be able to put my nagging concerns to bed by talking to my brother-in-law, Robert, who might know what had happened at the Army hospital.
I hadn't seen Jean's brother since he walked his sister down the aisle. He was the obvious choice to give her away since Jean's father had abandoned his family when she was only six. We'd hastily arranged the wedding for the weekend after he finished boot camp since he was scheduled to deploy to Vietnam the following week.
Unfortunately, I barely knew my wife's brother. I had met him once on a double date Jean had arranged with one of her college friends. It was in his senior year at the Cornell College of Engineering. Despite Jean's best intentions, Robert and her friend didn't hit it off. A couple of months later, he was drafted when his student deferment had expired.
Over the next few days, I became obsessed with talking to Robert, but I didn't have the phone number for the hospital. I checked my wife's address book and drew a blank. I knew Jean called her brother weekly and realized she must have his number memorized. I had no alternative except to ask her. I just had to come up with an innocent reason for calling him. I decided to tackle the problem head-on.
"Jean, how's your brother doing?"
Jean sighed. Her expression showed a mixture of concern and relief. Our recent attempts at communication had been limited to trivial matters like, "Please pass the butter." At least, this was a subject we could discuss calmly.
"He's making slow progress. The wounds have healed, but it takes a long time to recover from traumatic brain injuries. Hopefully, therapy will help him cope with the damage."
"I know your mom is with him daily, and you talk to him regularly, but perhaps Robert would like to chat with me. He's a good man. Your brother served his country for two years in Vietnam. He even sacrificed his weekend before deployment to fly across the country for our wedding. After he's discharged, I imagine he'll need someplace to stay until he gets back on his feet. Perhaps, we should offer him a room here."
Jean's face brightened as she listened to my rambling offer to help her brother. I felt a little guilty. I liked my brother-in-law but offering him a place to stay was still a ploy.
"Oh God, Steve, that would be wonderful. He needs all the human interaction he can get. You just need to be aware of his mental condition."
Jean explained that he had suffered damage to his frontal lobe. As a result, his personality and behavior changed. Unfortunately, the injury severely impaired his motivation, judgment, and attention span.
"Robert used to be quiet, but now he'll talk your ear off. I should warn you that you cannot believe half of what he says. The doctor told me my brother has difficulty separating his fantasies from reality. He even claims our mother used to bring strange men home every night and have loud, steamy sex. I know she dated a couple of different men while I was in high school, but I don't remember hearing anything. Anyway, I know he'd love to talk to you, but just treat what he says with a grain of salt."
Jean gave me her brother's schedule. He had therapy in the pool every morning at ten but had a couple of hours free before taking a late lunch. It seemed his mother didn't visit until the afternoon. Once I had Robert's phone number, I just had to wait until Jean went to work the next day. I was nervous the whole morning, waiting until after 2 PM Eastern time when he would be available. The number was for the hospital, and I was quickly transferred to his room.
"Hello Robert, this is Steve, your sister's husband. I called to find out how you're doing."
"Wow, Steve. What a surprise. Jean talked about you all the time while she was here. I appreciate you letting her stay so long."
Robert hadn't mentioned how he was doing, but maybe that was sensitive. Besides, I just wanted to talk about Jean's time at the hospital.
"Glad to let you borrow her. I hope she was a help."
"Oh man, she was fantastic. At first, she was only helping me with my cognitive therapy. I felt terrible she was away from home for so long, but she said, what's the use of having a degree in psychology if you can't use it to help the people you love. Besides, she said she was happy to be working with patients who had a future."
I could understand my wife's feelings. In her job, she worked with depressed end-of-life patients at the hospital, which took a heavy emotional toll on her.
Robert continued, "When the staff learned about her background, they invited her to run a group therapy session. It was so popular she was soon running three every afternoon. Even my platoon buddy, Derek, who had been injured protecting me in the attack, joined the group."
My ears perked up when he said Derek's name. However, I was afraid if I showed too much interest in the black soldier, he might mention it to my wife the next time she called him. I decided to circle back to Derek later.
