Secrets Left Neglected

Chapter 67

Tadhg

Over the next few months, I go from one homeless shelter to another. Likewise with hospitals.

One day after a pretty bad fall that happened outside a local mini-market, and which landed me in the ER again, a military chaplain enters my room and sits down on the chair next to me. "The nurses filled me in on your situation, son. Where are you trying to go?" He asks.

"The nurses did?" I ask him. I'm surprised. "I thought there were laws in place to keep medical professionals from sharing my information with other people."

The chaplain shakes his head and holds up his hands. "It's not like that. I don't know your medical history; just that you're trying to get somewhere and need help finding a ride."

"Oh," I say absently, rubbing a bruise on my arm. I look out the window to my right and try to gather my thoughts. What was Artair's address again?

My journal!

I fumble with the drawer of the nightstand next to my bed. "Hold on," I tell the chaplain. "I have the address in my book."

Seeing the difficulty I'm having, what with all the IV and heart monitor lines, the chaplain takes mercy on me and walks across the room to help. He opens the drawer and takes out my journal.

"Here you go, soldier."

Looking up to meet his eyes I nod my head and say, "Thank you."

When I find the page I'm looking for I show the chaplain the address. "I need to find this man. He's a speech language pathologist. He's a friend of the family. He'll know how to help me. I know he will."

The chaplain looks at the book and then lifts his head to stare at me. "An SLP? But don't you need other therapists-"

I nod my head yes and open my mouth to speak, "I do. I do, but this guy. He's really good. He has connections. He works at a specialized Veterans Center. He helped my friend. I know he can help me, too. Please. Do you know a way I can get to that address?"

The chaplain sits down on the chair next to my bed and looks to be in deep thought. I don't know what he's thinking but he appears serious. I don't want to interrupt him so I wait. I fidget with the small blue plastic clamp that is wrapped around the IV tubing in my arm.

After contemplating for a few minutes the chaplain turns to look at me. "Yes. I can take you."

"You can?" I ask surprised. "I'm told it's some distance from this hospital. Are you sure? I don't have any money to pay you. I was mugged and the guy took my money. I-"

"Yes. I can," he replies cutting me off. "And I'm not concerned about the cost or distance involved.

The doctors say you're ok to leave later tonight. I'll grab a few things from home and be back to pick you up. Get yourself ready and we'll be on our way. Sound good?"

"Sounds great. Thank you, Sir," I reply gratefully. I extend my hand to shake his. "One question, though," I say. "Why?"

"Why?" the man replies. "Why take you?" When I nod my head he continues.

"I've been in a few rough situations myself. Someone in the service was always there to pull me up by my bootstraps, though. It's time for me to pay those favors back. Leave no marine behind. That includes you. Be ready tonight. I'll be here at 1800 hours to pick you up."

"Ok," I reply gratefully. "I'll be ready."

Climbing into the man's truck later than evening, I feel relieved to finally be on my way. A sense of positive direction settles over me for the first time since I've left our house all those months ago.