Shane Dalton Medical Assistance

This is my brother, Shane Dalton. All his life, Shane has done nothing but help others. He is active in the Church and has headed, spoken at, or volunteered for dozens of weekend religious retreats. He is the kindest brother I could have asked for, and whenever I need help, he is there. Even if he can only give a box of Mac n' Cheese he got on sale, he has saved my family from starvation on more occasions than I dare ever say. When I was in trouble he would help me crawl my way back out with either a cheerful face, a handful of chocolates, or lending money. He does this not just for his family, but for all of his friends. He is the best person that I have ever known.  He is forty years old and in my whole life I have never met anyone as kind as my brother.

 

That is why what happened to him is so difficult to bear.

 

In May 2014, Shane drove over to our mother's house and was incredibly confused. He wasn't sure how he had driven there, or why, but he knew his head hurt and that he had needed our mother. He was so confused and unresponsive it took 30 minutes for him to be convinced to go to the hospital. He could barely move because of such a severe headache, and his confusion became worse as the night wore on.

 
It took some time to figure out, but he was diagnosed with three brain abscesses. One was on his frontal lobe, and the other two were deep in his brain. The one on his frontal lobe could be removed, and he was prepped for emergency surgery. By the time I arrived at the hospital with my baby son in tow, I heard the news from my mother: The doctor had told them Shane might never be the same. That maybe he would come out of this fine, and that maybe he would die. My mother's hands shook and voice wavered as she described how Shane could barely respond, that she'd had to give the approval for the surgery. The doctor had added that if Shane survived, there was no way to know how he would be different. 
 

The surgery took six hours. The whole family huddled in the waiting room of Spectrum Health Hospital, trying to joke and pretend our dearest Shane was not only a few feet away fighting for life. We read books and mocked celebrities, watched TV and laughed at sitcoms.  Close friends visited with food and a friendly hug. We pretended that everything was okay. We pretended that we were okay. But we weren't.

 

When the surgeon approached us, the jokes and talking immediately ceased. It was as if a mute button had been pushed on the whole waiting room. Even my infant son was quiet as we waited. No one dared to breathe.  My mother's sharp intake of breath was the last thing we heard before the doctor spoke. 

 

Shane's operation was successful. The abscess on the frontal lobe was removed, and the other two deep in the brain would need to be treated with antibiotics.  It would take 6-8 weeks of direct IV antibiotics to be rid of the abscesses, and even then the scar tissue from their presence might still effect him.  The doctor said that we would know what damage had been done by the time he woke up.  But he could wake up soon, in an hour, a week, or not at all.

 

But he was alive. 

 

Shane did wake up soon after the surgery, and I'll spare you the details of the long weeks spent in Intensive Care, the seizures that came on like a Mongol attack, and the clear aftereffects of surgery on his memory. The long nights spent awake due to the aftereffect of seizure medications, the weeks spent needing constant care at home due to his continuous IV drip of antibiotics to treat the last abscess, the slow realization that he would never be completely the same and how it frustrated him...these are things that are unimportant now. He has gotten through it and come out a better person. I think we all have.


 

What I will describe is this: Shane had no health insurance.

 

Even with the Affordable Care Act, it was too expensive for him to purchase insurance for 2014. He had been healthy so far, he thought, what would he need insurance for? He could pay out of pocket if he got a sore throat and needed antibiotics.

 

But then, he developed the abscesses. And so when Shane's hospital bills mounted, and his mortgage went unpaid, the brunt of the expenses were borne by savings accounts, our parents, or close friends.  This worked for a time.

 

It is now months later, December 2014, and he is still fighting. His memory needs work, but he is our sweet and kind Shane again, maybe just a little different. But the medical bills are still hanging over his head. He has thousands in debt hanging overhead, and he can do nothing about it. He will lose his house, his car, and his livelihood if he doesn't get some help.  

 

He can't find a job that will take him because of the aftereffects his brain surgery has had on his body. He hasn't been able to receive Social Security or other government benefits yet, but we are hopeful. In the mean time, he needs help keeping his home and car so he can go to a job when he is able to find one. He needs money to pay for overdue medical expenses; assistance to pay for all the bills that went overdue when he went into surgery and have stayed overdue because they are too large to pay off yet. He needs to pay his mortgage, his electricity, his car payment.  Too long have things gone on unpaid and he is facing real danger. Shane, overall, needs help.

 

Our whole lives, Shane has never asked for help. When I suggested a fundraiser immediately after the surgery to help with medical expenses, he balked. He said that other people needed help more, that charities should go to people who are homeless, who have no food, who are alone.
 

Shane is going to be homeless. He has no food.  And he is alone. He needs help. It is time to ask for it.

Please help him. Help my brother. 

Because if you were in his situation, he would help you.