The Path Home by Brian Wilson HONO R AB LE M E NT IO N This work is a fictional dramatization based on actual events in the life of the author.The views and opinions expressed in the story are those of the characters only and do not necessarily reflect or represent views or opinions held by the individuals on which their characters are based.
Standing on the two largest pavers of the drive leading from my garage door, I looked up. Morning never seemed to come this early before. Even as a prior orthopedic surgeon, I had always risen early, but not this early. The neighbors still called me “Dr. Samuelson”. I knew my first name was Steve - only because my driver’s license had “Steve” listed as my given name. For over three decades, I had dutifully awakened, slipped into my Lexus, and driven off to the hospital. It had been years since I paused to look up at a night sky. Orion, Gemini, Aquarius, they were all there. February’s waning crescent moon made Venus appear brighter in the eastern sky of the wee morning hours. Taken back to my boyhood days, I remembered first learning what a constellation was.Why I remembered the layout of the stars in the sky, and not the layout of my bedroom - well, I had no idea. The temperature was dropping. Even with my thick terrycloth bathrobe, the thin hair on my lower legs had begun to stand on end, attempting to warm my body. Rubbing my toes against each other helped lesson the chill of the cool night biting breeze. Why hadn’t I taken time to slip on some moccasins before coming outside to bid my oldest son off? Shivering, I pulled my robe tighter with one hand, and slowly waved goodbye to Nathanael with the other. Nate had been staying with me since my most recent hospitalization. This time, the doctors told me I had drowned. The physicians in our local emergency room knew me well. Evidently, I had totaled a couple of Lexus, and had drowned once before - all within three years. Maybe I did, and maybe I didn’t. I couldn’t remember. With the type of seizures that plague me, you often don’t remember the few minutes surrounding the fit. You have to rely on the doctors - what the doctors tell you.You have to trust what they say. Being a physician, I knew that sometimes they didn’t tell you everything. This time they wouldn’t let me leave the hospital without a “caretaker” at home to assist me. At least, that’s what they said. But, I knew better. I didn’t need anyone to take care of me. After surviving two ugly divorces, I could take care of myself. It was all just legalities. They just didn’t want to be responsible for anything that might happen to me after I left the hospital. The real reason I was being discharged was my insurance company wouldn’t authorize any rehab, so the doctors had just sent me home. Transitioning from a twice divorced, self-reliant professional, to someone who was dependent on public transportation was humbling for me. The physicians said it “wasn’t safe” for me to drive anymore. I suppose they were right. My automobile insurance rates had skyrocketed. But it was my legs that were the real problem.They were spasming rhythmically now in the cool night breeze. Walking had never been a challenge before. Constant muscle jerks had changed all
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