Support Moose's Journey to Recovery

If you're reading this, the gentleman in the picture surely needs no introduction. On the other hand, if you've never met Moose in person, the first thing you should know is no one calls him Broderick. I thought his legal name was Moose for most of the first year we knew each other. That's the light of his life, Lavender, riding high on her dad's shoulders. I honestly can't remember what his legal last name is, and he is one of my closest friends. Moose just suits him perfectly. Saying he's kind doesn't capture the full spectrum of his kindness; he's the inspirational sort of kind. If the woods of the state of Maine could pick a representative, I'd like to believe he'd be a strong forerunner. If you happen to chance upon encountering this uplifting individual, you'll find him sporting some earthy tone of well-worn Dickies, covered in dirt or grease, face usually done up to match, with a smile brighter than the crystal he's about to pull out of his pocket to give you.

That isn't the outfit we've all seen him rocking lately. The universe decided he needed to shed the uniform worn while welding mining equipment back to working order and don attire much more suited for letting others fix him. I saw him last Sunday and we almost went out to a favorite local ledge, but decided we both had other obligations we couldn't kick down the road. Monday, he was driven to a quick care because he felt something was really off, and by that night he'd had an MRI at York Hospital that showed a white spot inside his temporal lobe. Tuesday, an ambulance brought him to Mass General. Wednesday, he got more imaging and the neuro-surgical team had a plan to remove the cavernous hemangioma that was causing a list of symptoms easily found on Google that I don't feel the need to list here. He had all of them except hemorrhaging in his brain. The day-long wait most of us probably shared on Thursday was, needless to say, a long one, and I'm again sure if you've read this far, the relief you felt upon hearing he was out and awake was a most welcome exhalation.

He's heading home in good spirits today; it's January 25 at the time of writing this, and from what I understand, it's going to be a longer-than-not road for Moose to get back to "normal" life. He won't be driving for at least 3 months, restrictions on lifting, regular trips back down to MA for imaging and other tests. He's got decent insurance and I'm pretty sure neurosurgery hits most people's out-of-pocket maximum. More than a few people have asked how they can help, so I've made this in an effort to help him curb the stress of an unplanned 90-day vacation and some unexpected medical bills. He didn't ask for this and frankly, he's got a bit too much pride to; he's almost always the one helping others. I made the amount what it is based on what 12 weeks at his annual salary plus his out-of-pocket is. Thank you for taking the time to read, "Dream big, dig deep friends."