Zack Spoke Louder

The macho dads standing next to me yelled out “Shake it off!  Be a man!  You’re ok!”

 The boy is now a teenager, but many years ago he was a small 9 year old soccer player lying flat on his back, motionless, in the middle of a muddy field.  It wasn’t immediate, but he did eventually rise and with help walked to the side of the field.   I looked into the boy’s eyes.  I’m not sure he looked back.  I asked him a question.  I’m pretty sure he didn’t give the right answer.  The macho dads spoke to him, “Get some water and get back out there, buddy!  We need you!”

But Zack Lystedt spoke louder.  He is the reason the boy and I left that game and went to the hospital. He is the reason I knew those macho dads were very, very wrong. 

It was the kind of news that causes you to draw in your breath quickly. Your hand involuntarily moves to cover your open mouth.  Somehow you mutter, “I can’t even imagine.”

It was the kind of horrible situation where the only good news was the fact that he was still alive.

7 days on life support.  9 months without speaking.   13 months until his left arm moved.  2 years with a feeding tube.  4 years until he could move his leg on purpose.

 It was a lot for a 13 year old Zack Lystedt to overcome.

Zack received a concussion in a junior high football game and his life was never the same.  Reality for Zack and his parents, Victor and Mercedes, was a horrific nightmare that came to life.  They have been through hell.  Yet somehow, they have not only survived, they have become an inspiration.   Zack, Victor and Mercedes personify all that is good and right about this world.

 (I encourage you to learn more of Zack’s story from this 2012 ESPN story. http://espn.go.com/video/clip?id=7525526)

Over the years Zack has spoken louder than one would have thought possible.  He has the ear of NFL commissioner Roger Goodell.  He’s been profiled by Dan Rather. Nearly every major media outlet in America has done a story on him.  Google his name and you could spend all afternoon sifting through the results.  For years now, Zack and his parents have continued to proactively do what is necessary to make sure no one else will live through the nightmare they did.  They are the reason that today, in 47 states, the Zackery Lystedt Law and concussion education are integral parts of all youth sports.      (You can learn more about the Zackery Lystedt Law in this March 2013 video from NFL.com     http://www.nfl.com/videos/nfl-network-total-access/0ap2000000150769/Breakthrough-in-football-safety)

When Zack Lystedt’s name was announced a hush came over the gym.  It was the kind of moment that causes you to draw in your breath quickly. My hand involuntarily moved to cover my open mouth.  As Zack’s father watched him cautiously walk to the podium, I thought to myself, “I can’t even imagine.”  I could feel my eyes start to tear up.  I know I wasn’t alone in my uneasy silence.

 It was the senior awards ceremony for the graduating class of 2013.  Zack was there to present the “Zackery Lystedt Scholarship Award” to a student who had overcome significant life challenges.   Zack’s dad Victor helped announce the award. 

When Edwin was called to the stage his peers erupted in boisterous cheering.  It was clear he was well liked.   Edwin was a big, strong and very talented wrestler who had overcome significant challenges in his life.  It was true he wanted to go to college.  And it was true he needed help paying for it. When Zack announced that Edwin was the winner of the Zackery Lystedt Scholarship Edwin cried.   When Zack’s dad announced that this scholarship would take care of the first two years of his college education, Edwin bent over in utter disbelief, obviously moved.  It was clear that Zack Lystedt had just changed Edwin’s life.

Zack Lystedt has spoken louder than his tragedy.  Zack told me to get my kid off that soccer field.  Zack convinced politicians in 47 states to agree on something.  Zack told Edwin he has a future. 

I’d be surprised if there was a dry eye or a hardened heart in the gym that evening.  It was the kind of impactful moment you remember for a long time.  It was the kind of poignant moment that touches people deep on the inside.  It began so many years earlier with a tragedy you can’t even imagine. It began with the kind of life changing event you are convinced you don’t have the strength to survive. It began with the kind of situation that could consume you forever. 

 But Zack spoke louder than all of that.

For at that moment, in that gym, there was only good.

Check This Out!

The teenage boy and the husband have gifted themselves with a new mouse. It is the R. A. T.  5 gaming mouse. According to the box it has 5600 dpi and is a 'truly groundbreaking mouse'.  (Please don’t tell me how much they paid for it.  I would prefer stay uninformed.)  They claim that it is awesome and if you like PC gaming and being awesome, they highly recommend this mouse.  I am convinced, however,  that it will soon transform itself into the sidekick of Optimus Prime.

Head Games

It was a sunny spring Friday, just past noon, when a baseball bat slammed into the side of the boy’s head, causing his body to be shoved into a chain link fence. The boy spent the rest of his recess wandering around the playground, dazed, until the school bell rang. When the boy sat down at his desk, the girl sitting next to him dropped her jaw and her hand flew to her mouth.

“Um…oh my god…um…boy, you do know that you have blood running down the side of your head, don’t you?”

“No.” was all that he muttered back.

The substitute teacher sent the boy to the nurse. The boy told the nurse he “must have scraped his head.” He left with a bandage that stayed stuck to the side of his head for an hour before it found a permanent home in the garbage can because it was itchy.


It was almost 5 pm, just before dinner, when the boy arrived home that evening. I dropped my jaw and my hand flew to my mouth. “Oh my goodness! Those glasses are less than a week old! How did you manage to mangle them so badly?”

The boy quietly answered, “I think I got hit in the head with bat.” He turned his head and I saw the scabbing wound and a small lump.


It was 5:02 pm, just after I had examined those mangled glasses, when common sense and a little bit of sympathy entered the conversation. “So, you think we need to take him to Urgent Care?” the husband queried.


It was 2 ½ years ago, just before the fall leaves fell from the trees, that the boy acquired his first concussion. And while it would be an overstatement for me to claim to be an expert on concussions, I was confident that I could adequately evaluate him for signs that should be of immediate concern.

Maybe.


It was 5:16, just after I had thumped the lump on the boy’s head and asked, “Does this hurt?”, that parsimonious efficiency sent common sense out to start the car. I announced to the husband and the boy,“ Urgent Care is open until 9. But the eye doctor is only open until 6. Let’s go there first.”


It was 5:26, just after the eye doctor lady saw the boy’s mangled glasses, when she dropped her jaw and her hand flew to her mouth. “What happened?” she questioned.

All eyes turned to the boy. Somewhere in the boy’s head, a switch was flipped and he suddenly piped up, “I got hit with a plastic bat at school. Hey! I remember!”

It was 5:49, just as the boy’s glasses were deemed forever mangled, that parsimonious efficiency reluctantly determined a plastic bat hit did not an Urgent Care visit warrant. A reluctant common sense drove us home.


It was Monday morning, just after the boy spent the entire weekend repeatedly responding to his guilt laden and paranoid mother, “Yes, I’m fine!”, that the school was notified that the boy was an accident waiting to happen.


And it was the very next Friday, just after lunch, when the school nurse called our home. “The boy has hit his head quite badly. I think you should come quickly.”

When I saw the tennis ball sized bulge coming out of the back of the boy’s head, I dropped my jaw and my hand flew to my mouth. The school nurse shook her head and turned to me, “Yes, it’s impressive isn’t it?” The boy told me he had hit his head on the “Big Toy” as he spiraled down the “corkscrew” pole. When a girl found the boy sprawled out, motionless, underneath the “Big Toy”, she dropped her jaw and her hand flew to her mouth, “Are you dead?” she screamed. As we left the school, the school secretary felt the back of the boy’s head. Her jaw dropped and her hand flew to her mouth. “Well, I’d say you’ll be headed to Urgent Care, won’t you?”

It was 1:30 pm, just after the boy told me he’d really, really like to go to sleep, that we were taken to an Urgent Care examining room. It was 1:45, just after the boy complained that his pain level was getting “worse and worse”, when the doctor came in. And it was 1:57, just after the boy told the doctor that he didn’t have any clue how he got hurt, that the boy found himself getting his brain scanned.



It was 3:45 am, just after the alarm had gone off, that I woke the boy up from a deep sleep. I had done so for every two hours since he went to bed and would do so that entire weekend. The boy was lucky to be home with a mere concussion diagnosis instead of a more serious diagnosis of massive internal brain smashing or bleeding or swelling.


It was 8:45 on the following Monday morning, just after I had hugged the boy tight, for a solid 39 seconds, that the he managed to break free and wander off to school. And it was 8:46 that I muttered the words, “Dear God…please protect that boy’s head.”




Check This Out!

In the spirit of all things dangerous, the boy would like you to check out a multitude of videos online that offer detailed instructions on how to modify your Nerf gun. The boy claims his Nerf dart now flies twice as far up the street and at a much greater velocity. The husband’s empty Mountain Dew bottles now leap the length of our postage stamp yard when hit by this higher speed Nerf dart. This new modified gun will cause your teenager to yell, “MOM!!!! He almost hit me!” This new modified gun will cause your husband to say, “Boy! We don’t shoot people or animals. Hey…when can I try that thing? Is it my turn yet?” And this new modified Nerf gun will cause most mothers to drop their jaw and have their hands fly to their ears. This will be followed by a motherly growl of, “Take that thing outside! It’s too loud! And be careful…you’ll shoot your eye out with that thing…..”

The Happy Fall Day

I’m not a big fan of summer. The heat makes me hot. The sun gives me cancer. The humidity makes me sticky. I realize I’m in the minority here, but summer is my least favorite season. So, when I woke up to a September Saturday morning and felt the crisp air and saw leaves had fallen from my maple tree, I was in heaven. It felt like fall. I just knew it would be a good day.

I arrived at the almost a teenager’s soccer game with the whiny boy in tow. I had pulled him from the nearby playground to sit still for the next hour and an half. He was not pleased. As we sat to watch the game I noticed that the other team was taller and heavier and much, much meaner, I was sure, than my sweet, petite almost a teenager. My daughter’s team did manage a 3-1 win but not before a big, mean girl kicked her in the stomach. What my daughter was doing on the ground, I’m not quite sure, but nevertheless, she came off the field with a size 8 cleat print on her uniform shirt. The almost a teenager said she almost threw up at the time of impact with the mean girl’s foot and she did run a bit lopsided for the rest of the game, but was otherwise fine. As we left the game, the coach yelled, “You might want to watch her for internal bleeding!” Oh, dear. That sounds serious. Bad things aren’t supposed to happen on my happy fall day. It was supposed to be good day.

We raced away from that first soccer game and made it just in time to the start of the boy’s soccer game. After sitting for so long, away from the playground, the boy was wound up and ready to run. He started the game and zipped around the field as he usually does. And then he fell. He landed head first. And he was out. How the boy managed to fall head first, I’m not quite sure, but nevertheless, he came off the field with a huge headache and no memory of the incident. As we left the game, another parent yelled, “You might want to watch him to see if his eyes are dilated!” Oh dear. That sounds serious. His minor concussion and our visit to the ER are the kinds of bad things that aren’t supposed to happen on my happy fall day. It was supposed to be a good day.

The next morning the almost a teenager woke up and was in quite a bit of pain. Her ribs hurt when she moved, coughed, sneezed or laughed. Yet still, she wanted to go kick the ball around at the school. The boy woke up with a headache and still hadn’t regained his memory. Yet still, he wanted to go climb the tree in the front yard. I’m not usually a nervous mother but the prior day’s injuries had me frightened, worried and a bit on edge. It was obvious these children had no sense. What if they hurt themselves again? I found myself hovering and being overly concerned with minute details of their behavior. I was having irrational thoughts of controlling them in ways I knew they would find stifling, overprotective and unjustified. In fact, to be completely truthful, I was determined that those children were never leaving the house again without the proper protection.

I wasn’t entirely sure how I would protect them, but I had visions of starting with a massive delivery of bubble wrap. I’d buy huge bulk rolls of it and store it in the garage. Before they left the house each morning, I’d hand each child a snorkel to breathe with, wrap them completely up in bubble wrap and comfortably send them on their way. Of course, I’d also have to put a few mattresses under the climbing tree in the front yard. I’m sure the homeowner’s association would grant me a waiver for that. After all, it was for the safety of the children. Who’d be against that? I’d probably have to carry a few extra mattresses with me in the trunk of the car as well. Then I would be prepared if we went to a playground or had to climb stairs or encountered an uneven sidewalk.

And of course, when they weren’t wearing their bubble wrap suits, helmets, knee pads, elbow pads and a bullet proof vest would be required attire. I even found a helmet made by Riddell that has a sensor inside. This helmet notifies parents and coaches if the child has received too large of an impact to the head- either in a single blow or collectively. Parents can keep track of the results online. Now, this helmet is made for football players, but my children, of course, would be required to wear them all the time. Even at night. You just never know when they would fall out of bed and somehow miss the mattresses I had placed beside them on the floor.

On the rare occasions the children would be allowed to ride in a car, ride their bike or God forbid, ride a scooter, they would be required to be ensconced in a full metal roll cage. Naturally, they would also always be surrounded by the safest and most technologically advanced air bags available. And it goes without saying that trampolines, blow up jumping toys and all carnival and theme park rides would be strictly prohibited under all circumstances.

My greatest safety feature would resemble the leashes or tethers you see on runaway two year olds at the mall. Mine would be marketed for older children as the Youngster Yankster and would come in the coolest designs and colors. You would have one option of tethering your child physically and yanking them out of any situation that you found potentially dangerous. This option comes with or without a harmless zap feature. For a second, slightly more expensive option, you could purchase the computer and cell phone version that allows you to monitor your child from anywhere in the world. When you became uncomfortable with the situation your child was in, you would simply punch in your password and your child would be yanked from the situation immediately, covered in bubble wrap and placed in a mattress covered room. It would be the fun, safe way of keeping your children out of harm’s way. Don’t tell me that it’s unrealistic either. I saw it on an episode of The Jetsons many years ago, so I know it’s possible.


I am happy to report that the children did recover from their injuries. My children are happy to report that I eventually came to my senses. I am no longer a paranoid, hovering lunatic. I am again fully willing to send them out into this cruel world to be injured at any moment. Life is back to normal. Almost. It was hot and sunny and miserable a few days ago. I decided to stay inside out of the sun and do a little internet research. I was very happy to find that I can get a 250 ft roll of bubble wrap for less than $50.00. And I can even get it in fabulous colors. We don’t want the other kids making fun of the children for not being fashionable now, do we?








Check This Out!
Look for the DVD, Standing In the Shadows of Motown. This highly entertaining documentary/concert follows the careers of the musicians known as the Funk Brothers. Considered the greatest hit machine in the history of popular music, the Funk Brothers have played on more #1 records than the Beatles, the Beach Boys, the Rolling Stones and Elvis Presley COMBINED! It’s a fun movie, full of history, packed full of fabulous stories that will definitely have you singing along.