June 7, 2010 @ 4:38 pm
Two Hearts
Interfaith Senior Programs, Inc., Waukesha, WI (31)
We’d spoken on the phone once before. Her voice, while abrupt at first, softened quickly as I introduced myself. Her smile radiated through the phones as we planned our meeting times and places, and I wondered what she would look like, and was curious if she was wondering about me as well. Arriving at the Brewser home was somewhat intimidating. I wasn’t sure exactly what I should be expecting, and though I was pretty much a veteran when it came to throwing myself into new volunteer experiences in unknown regions of America, this would be the first time I would be working directly with a family in need of some reenforcement. The facts: The wife, Carrie was blind. Her husband, Tony, had in recent years become a quadriplegic. Of the causes of either, I wasn’t sure. The local energy company was threatening to cancel the electricity to the home. With Tony being on life support, this wasn’t simply an inconvenience, but rather a life-threatening situation needing immediate resolution.
I parked in the front of the house, and walked the steps to the brass-handled door. Knocking, I heard shouts from the inside welcoming me to the home. Turning the knob, I was greeted by Carrie, who slowly, touching walls along the way, approached me. Her service dog, Packer, ran quickly ahead, ensuring I was a wanted visitor. Immediately Carrie embraced me. And from the door to the kitchen, I felt like we’d been friends for years.
Covering the kitchen counter, a spread completely unfamiliar in my “Purpose” journey sat before me. Homemade chicken breasts doused in a curry based sauce, freshly made potato salad (served with just as many eggs as potatoes 
), crunchy pickle slices ,and just out-of-the-oven, melt-in-your-mouth fudge brownies (I totally snuck one before anyone was the wiser). A homemade lunch…completely amazing, ridiculously surprising, and well worth the wait.
Grabbing a plate, we sat together and I learned about Tony’s illness. After serving his country in Vietnam and returning home a decorated soldier, he would have the option of undergoing any medical treatments at a VA Hospital. He’d gone in for a fairly common procedure focusing on the discs in his upper back. Following surgery, the couple was told all was well, and though Carrie had stayed the night before, she would be able to go home for some much needed rest. At roughly two o’clock in the morning she received a call from the hospital. Tony had been given a shot of narcotics. Soon after, he asked the nurse for a cup of water. While she was too busy to get a drink, she grabbed a small piece of cantaloupe from the table in front of him. She then left him and returned to find him unconscious, unable to breath from the fruit lodged in his throat. Desperately trying to revive him, his brace was removed as hands pounded against his body still frail from the surgery. Tony lived. But he’d walked into the hospital, mostly healthy. He would later leave unable to move anything below his neck.
Our small group gathered around the dining room table; the multi-talented realtor (who also ran errands, organized bills, etc., etc.), Becky, the gentle case worker of whom I spoke earlier (who considers Carrie friend before client), Carrie herself, and then me. The overwhelming pile of mail sat in front of us while we contemplated exactly where to start. Tearing envelope after envelope, medical bills overlapped one another while letters clarifying insurance inquiries became attached together.
After working through the notes and the invoices, contacting the electric company was top priority. With phone numbers clearly displayed on a yellow piece of paper in front of me, I started dialing. Automated systems are always the worst, and as I attempted to follow directions and push “1“ when necessary, then “8” and so on, eventually becoming frustrated, I ended up with the repetitive motion of my finger pressing “0” until finally speaking to a human being. Then of course I was put on hold, music played, I rolled my eyes and then an actual conversation began.
An extension to paying the bill was the first order of business. I pleaded our case, explaining in depth the situation. The man on the other end of the line seemed to understand, but could only help us after a verbal agreement to engage in a payment plan. While the request was completely reasonable, with just over $800 coming into this home monthly (Tony’s settlement strictly provides for medical care), a $250 electric bill was in no way a possibility. For the extension however, we agreed. June 1, 2010 would be our D-Day.
The next call was to the Public Service Commissioner. The goal was to lower the utility rates provided the extenuating circumstances. Unable to locate the commissioner, we were only able to leave messages which would hopefully result in a returned call sometime very soon.
The last order of business was speaking with Congressman Jim Sensenbrenner. Hold your hats people, I gotta be honest here, I was kind of nervous. I’d never even contacted Kentucky representatives so I wasn’t sure exactly what to say or exactly how to handle myself. But, this was for a tremendous cause, so I was willing to do whatever necessary.
Dialing the numbers, my heart pounding, I was wondering if someone would pick up, briefly yearning for the call to go unanswered. Ringing and more ringing, and then a quick “Congressman Sensenbrenner’s office.” Walking from the noises around me and holding my breath, I somehow briefly described the story of this family of two in a city just outside of Milwaukee. Forwarded to an aide primarily responsible for handling the mistreatment of veterans, I handed the phone to Carrie. Fighting tears, she spoke the sad truths that dictate her life. She begged for a working lift, one that would enable Tony to leave his home, get a haircut, take a walk with Carrie by his side. Nothing extravagant, just the hope of some kind of a future. The talking went on for what seemed like forever, and when I heard the click of the phone behind me, I turned around to a face…tired, exhausted, finished for the day.
Resting my arms on the newly finished railing along the back porch, tossing the yellow tennis ball to Packer, Carrie listened as I described the leaves stretching from every branch, the potted plants with colored flowers just beginning to bloom, and the vines that followed along the fencing. She loved learning of her stone steps that lead to the random grassy areas, perfect for resting on warm evenings just before sunset. I loved looking at her face as she heard about her beautiful home. She was so very proud, and I was so honored to be the one to share in her glory.
Just before leaving, as I raised my camera, Tony leaned over and kissed Carrie’s forehead. Looking at the photograph in front of me, her arm wrapped around him, I thought about these lives as the frame was captured. I thought about my reaction had life as I’d known it been stripped away through no responsibility of my own. I’d mentioned to Tony earlier that his ability to move past the thickness of resentment was heroism beyond in depths of my imagination. His response, a simple “Thank you,” proved his humility as well.
Tony and Carrie Brewser teach us so many lessons; the need to continue through life, no matter the obstacles, to hold one another when it seems things are at their very worst, the benefit of fighting the problem, not the people around you, that kindness must be shown in every action made, and to love, forgive, and laugh as much as we possibly can. Perhaps the greatest lessons are those we learn when the rain pours, the thunders shake, the mountains crumble, and the clouds stay hovered above our every move. In any case, I’m certain that whatever my circumstances, I’ll reflect on the lives of this fine couple and I’ll remember how, despite the difficulties, they’ve led by example flawlessly, inspiring so many…inspiring me.
Note: To Carrie and Tony, for sharing your journey with me, and for allowing me to share mine as well
