Rick Fuckin Majors

Ok, so I was a little angry when the kids from the Sandwich Shop named the benefit show for Rick "A Benefit for Rick Fuckin Majors." I felt it was insensitive to his Christian family, a little bit too slaphappy for such a serious affair, and altogether offputting. But after this week, I guess I don't know what else to say, but "Rick Fuckin Majors." The boy took on death and won and is now recovering so much every single day. He is smiling, laughing, communicating his needs with signals- wrinkling his nose if he needs something, nodding his head and lifting his eyebrows for yes, shaking his head from side to side for no. He can move everything on his body, albeit discongruently and with difficulty, but the potential for motor skill re-learning is amazing. He is making us laugh and swoon with his handsome smile. He doesn't smile randomly, he smiles when a good joke is made or when we remind him of funny memories. He is being very funny, too. I was asking him yes or no questions to try to discern his ability to hear us and understand. I couldn't think of a no question, so I asked him, "Do you like George Bush?" His face went immediately into a crinkled, disgusted "what the hell" face and we all started laughing. Rick laughed with us and we all knew he was trying to be funny. The boy has been through hell and is still able to smile, joke, and make us laugh. To top it off, one of his first functions to come back was, believe it- blowing kisses. K was blowing kisses at him and when he heard her lips he blew one back. When I came into the hospital after three days not seeing him, K said, "Look! Davka is here! Blow her a kiss!" And he did. I melted.

He is also blowing kisses at the nurses. I guess some of them were lining up to get their kisses.

Last night he was wrinkling his nose and in pain. He was making the pain face, which we are all so familiar with. It was the only face he made for like two weeks, a total grimace of agony. We were trying to figure out what he needed so Nina was asking, "Rick. Is it something with your legs?" He shook his head no. "Rick, is it something in your stomach?" Again, no. Again, the pain face. She asked, "Rick, is it something in your head?" Before he had a chance to respond, I said, "Rick- do you want some head?" It took him one second of delay and then he was smiling hugely, leaning his head back with laughter. He raised his eyebrows in a big "Yes!" Nina looked to make sure his mother didn't hear me. I was still laughing. Rick was laughing. I whispered into his ear, "Don't worry! Nina will take care of that for you." Nina slapped my arm. Rick is beaming.

It feels so good to be able to tease him and flirt with him. Everyone left and the nurses gave him some valium to relax him for sleep. Rick and I have an ongoing joke about benzodiazapines. Everyone we know gets them or has them and our whole generation is addicted to them, so we try to make light of it. Rick likes to exaggerate their weird names in a funny yinzer accent. He always says, "hey Davka do you want some Kalanzapans? Some lorazapams?" He makes them sound like candy. You kind of have to be there, but last night after the nurse gave him his valium I told him I hope he likes his kolanzapans and he smiled big. Then Nina and I sang him to sleep. We waited til his heartbeat dropped to a nice relaxed number and we prayed and left. We were crying. We discussed it later and we both agreed it wasn't sadness- it was amazement and humility- an awe in the face of spirit. What makes a person who they are? How amazing that even after brain injury and coma and all of this, Rick is still this shining spirit that fights and laughs and blows kisses. That is the unquantifiable part of each of us that will never be able to be named, discussed, or consoled in the language of science. The doctors who wanted us to give up just never counted on Rick. Fuckin. Majors. and his huge, beautiful spirit.

Spirit. Love. I am just amazed these days. Someone hands me a fortune from their cookie at dinner:

Every moment only once.