Lifter

Lifter
by Jon Eno
word count; 2640




    It was Dr. Leslie Nelson's first day at Fairlawn Hospital for the Mentally Insane. The year was 1952. She was introduced to the staff, with little fan-fair and received her case load for the week.
    She had just settled in behind a desk, in a small room down the hall from the nurse's station with a window that looked into the hallway. As she opened the first folder, movement in the window caught her attention. She looked up to see a full size refrigerator walking past. There were massive arms clasped to both sides and the glimpse of a shoulder was visible. The head was too high to fit within view.
    She got up and opened the door to investigate this oddity that no one else seemed to pay any mind to at all. Pocking just her head beyond the doorway she observed a man, no a mountain stuffed into a kaki shirt and pants was carrying the appliance down the hall, as one might carry a bag of groceries or the laundry.
    Dr. Nelson was awestruck at the sight, as though witnessing a prehistoric creature of incredible proportions. As a medical person, she was amazed that so many cells could co-exist within one human. The man easily stood seven and half feet tall or taller. The muscular definition cut through tight clothing that barely fit the form beneath.
    A Nurse, Miss. Craigs, noticed the newcomer's dismay and walked over to her.
"That's Lifter our resident handy man slash human fork lift," she said.
"He works here?" asked the doctor.
"Oh no. He's a patient. Been here most of his life. Long before I started here."
"He's so, so, BIG." remarked the Doctor.
Nurse Craigs just nodded adding a "Yup."
    Then she offered a personal reference for the patient named John Doe, aka Lifter.
"If you ever need to know anything about Lifter talk to his handler, Jeremiah Jackson, our Maintenance Supervisor. He has been watching over the boy as far back as anyone can remember."
    The day progressed as Dr. Nelson worked her way through case file after case file until she came to one labeled 'John Doe', aka: Lifter, was added in pen next to it. She read through the file thoroughly. The image of man filled her mind as she read a brief narrative offered some years back when John first came into the system.
    The nurse wrote that John was received, at an approximate age of seven, from an orphanage in New Mexico that could not handle the boy's mental condition. His physical state was deteriorating quickly also. He had been loosely diagnosed with a variation of catatonic schizophrenia and obsessive-compulsive disorder following some assumed traumatic event. He had not spoken a single word since the New Mexico Highway patrol delivered him to their care.
    The boy was found late at night on an abandoned stretch of road, all alone, bloody and cut. He was found carrying an automobile's side-view mirror. No parents were ever located and the boy has never spoken. The child was presented in a catatonic state with the exception of the compulsive behavior of lifting things up and down. The Patrol officer made a special entry in his report about how violent the child became when they forced the mirror from him.
    As Dr. Nelson continued through the file, she came across other notes describing John Doe's compulsion to lift objects up and down. From what she saw today with the refrigerator, lifting was still important to John Doe. She would make the time to find and speak with Jeremiah Jackson first thing tomorrow and then meet her new patient, probably with an escort.
    The second day started early for the good Doctor. She was in her office by 0' seven hundred when a forceful knock came to the door. She answered it to find a large negro gentleman standing there with hat in hand.
"Morning Doc, I'm Jerimiah Jackson the maintenance and janitorial supervisor here."
"Why good morning. I was about to come and find you," she said.
"Yes ma'am. Nurse Craigs said you might have a few questions about Lifter."
Holding his hat in both hands before him he waited to see what the new Doctor would say, trying to measure of her disposition. Would she be friend or foe to his adopted charge.
    Dr. Nelson invited Jerimiah in to sit and talk, if he would.
"Please tell me everything you know about John Doe. I have all morning, if you do," she said.
    He smiled. His snaggletoothed expression offered a bond the two would come to develop over the next hour and half. Jerimiah had already scheduled free time for just such an invitation. He immediately began to tell John's story. Leslie could tell it was a story he enjoyed repeating and must have done so in the past many a time.
    Jerimiah Jackson came across the boy his first week in the hospital. He had latched on to one of the trash baskets Jerimiah was trying to empty. Getting the can away from John was no easy task and some what uncomfortable for Jerimiah as his interaction with the residents was purposely limited to as little as possible to get his work done and move on.
    Over the next few weeks this scenario became a common occurrence for Jerimiah and John. The boy was a problem for the medical staff as all he did was lift the trash can all day long. Getting him to eat or drink was only accomplished with a rubber hose and a struggle. Even at roughly seven or eight years old, John put up quite a battle every time.
    After a week the staff was about to give up on him and let nature takes it course. This was confided to Jerimiah by an orderly one afternoon as he shook his head starring at the boy. He needed to do his job and he didn't particularly want to fight the little rug rat another day. The staff had given up trying to help the boy so if Jerimiah wanted to try a new trick who would care.
    Jerimiah brought a shiny new trash can with him and pulled at the one John had. He fought him for it as usual, but when Jerimiah got the full can free he pushed the empty one into John's face. He took it. Then, for just a second, Jerimiah swore the boy looked him in the eye before returning to his usual expressionless stare.
    Out of sight from the staff, Jerimiah sat next to John for the next hour holding his trash can. Then for a few minutes he began to lift his can up and down also, staying in sync with John.
    It was getting close to eleven, so Jeremiah left for a moment to return with his lunch then proceeded to lift his can up and down again while awkwardly eating a sandwich and sipping the occasional drink. He offered his sandwich to the boy a couple times getting it so close to his nose he had to have been able to smell it fully. It was a meatloaf sandwich. Jerimiah's mother made him one most every day for lunch. When the last bite was all that remained, Jerimiah held it close to John's nose once more. Then he stood and slowly left with his full trash can and the last bite of the sandwich.
    To everyone's surprise the boy and followed Jerimiah, trash can in hand. Since that day the two have seldom been apart. When ever the medical staff wanted to try something new with John, they went to Jerimiah to create some new intervention or trick to get John to do it. 
    The thought was something akin to making a chicken dance. Purely a pavlovian response, they thought, but Jerimiah knew otherwise. He knew there was still a little boy buried down deep inside there somewhere. He just had to find a way to go in and get him.
    Not long after his tag along trash can helper imprinted on him, Jerimiah discovered something interesting about John Doe. The heavier the object he lifted was the happier he seemed and the better he would sleep. John's nights were usually filled with restlessness and whimpers in the dark. He was reliving something very unpleasant from his short life.
    One day, Jerimiah let John follow him to the gym where Jerimiah would work out with free weights. This would be the second time Jerimiah thought he saw an emotional response from John. He taught John how to use the equipment safely. Within a few short weeks a real sense of calm found John Doe.
    Jerimiah had spent enough time with the boy now that he knew his face intimately. He could see a sort of calm, if not happiness, in the boy's eyes when he was lifting the weights.
    Unfortunately, however, he would lift until he collapsed if Jerimiah wasn't there to stop him. Again, came a struggle to transition from the heavy weights to something more practical, but a routine developed eventually.
    Jerimiah knew a person could not work as hard as John did and not eat proper. He spoke with the nurses. They increased his protein and calorie requirements, working with the dietician. With the help of Mrs. Jackson's meatloaf sandwiches, John eventually got away from the feeding tube routine and began to eat, as long as Jerimiah Jackson was there.
    Over the years it became quit evident that who ever his parents were, John was going to be a big boy, a very big boy. At fourteen years old he had already jumped past six foot tall and his physique was a routine conversation with the younger nurses and female staff.
    He required heavier and heavier objects over the years. Some of the medical staff that came and went through the years had different and varied opinions about this. Many thought there to be too high a risk of injury for a patient to be lifting such heavy objects only supervised by the janitor. They came and went however. When Dr. Blakemore arrived he was intrigued by what Jerimiah had accomplished with a once catatonic patient. He began to experiment with the basics of Jerimiah's technique on other patients, and eventually published a few papers.
    John was allowed to stay with Jerimiah and help him maintain the facility, lifting weights in the evenings with Jerimiah or one his crew. The staff monitored John's health and offered what they could, when they could, to help.
    In fact, they would do pretty much anything to keep John Doe with Jerimiah and out of their hair. That became very evident when Jerimiah went away on a fishing trip on week.
    The look of relief on the staffs face told Jerimiah, John was, essentially, his adopted son and his responsibility from that day forward. They had to sedate and restrain the teen the first day Jerimiah did not come in. It took another week to get John back to where he had been before Jerimiah left.
    When John Doe hit seven feet in height and weighed in at over three hundred pounds, some concerns over patient and staff safety arouse. If this monster of a child ever went berserk on them they would be powerless to defend themselves, short of a high powered rifle.
    The years passed and John Doe remained with Jerimiah. The name Lifter, just came about on its own and John Doe, Lifter, became a fixture at the facility. Most that had been around him long enough trusted him, but many were simply afraid of his massive size and flat affect. He still never spoke, but would follow direction from Jerimiah and some trusted few. 
    Dr. Nelson thanked Jerimiah for his time and the story he told. It helped her understand her patient much better than a folder full of notes and summaries. She would talk with other staff and observe John Doe for a couple days before meeting with him again that week.
    Every Friday was family day at the hospital. Staff was allowed to invite their family, as were the residents. A picnic atmosphere was set up in the large grassy field beside the main building as one entered the compound. A tall chain link fence separated the front entrance road from the patients.
    Weather permitting, each Friday Jeremiah and Lifter would sit on a home made picnic blanket and wait for Jeremiah's mother to come with her sandwiches and potato salad. Today was no exception. The two sat on the blanket resting after a long days work. The anticipation was evident in Lifters fidgeting and frequent position changes, side to side. If you knew what to look for, his eyes lit up when he saw her car coming down the entrance road. She was about the only person Jerimiah knew that could get a reaction out of that boy's stone face. It was always a pleasure to watch it happen.
    On this day, however, Lifter's excitement would quickly turn to tragedy. Lifter watched as Momma Jackson's car came into view. She visible through the chainlink fence, when her car swerved left abruptly then right, rolling over and down the embankment.
    Within moments a small fire was visible through the fence separating Jerimiah from his mother. Everyone there ran to the fence, but the gates in this area are locked and barbed wire topped the fence.
    The fire grew quickly, at the rear of the car. Jerimiah pulled at the fence yelling for his mother and began to climb. John was close behind him. At the top of the fence Jerimiah clawed at the barbwire and it clawed back, blood running down his bright white shirt.
    John heard the panic in his friend's voice. He did not need to see into his eyes to know how grave the situation was. John reached up and pulled his friend off the fence. He screamed, "No! No! John, I need to help her."
    Jerimiah looked into John's face and saw years of emotions filling his face; anger, fear, pain all at once. His hands turned to fists and the boy yelled out through the fence. "Momma!"
    The first word he had spoken in over twelve years. Grasping the wire fence, John bent his knees and with a yell pulled at the barrier. The post nearest them came up from the ground and the fence was hovering in Lifters hands then over his head. Throwing it behind him, John ran to Momma's car. He grabbed the side mirror to turn the car back up onto its wheels, but it snapped off. He stood there a moment starring at the mirror, tears fill his eyes.
    Then he saw movement from inside the car. It was Momma's arms pushing at the wind shield. John grasped the roof and lifted the auto up, rolling it onto its wheels again. The fire burned higher now. With a mighty pull, John jerked the driver's side door from its hinges and reached inside for Mrs. Jackson.
Looking into her panicked face he called to her, "Momma, momma".
    She reached out for him and he carried her to safety with Jerimiah at his side. With in moments of getting to relative safety the automobile exploded, sending glass and debri into the air.
    Mrs.Jackson went to the hospital in town for minor burns and scraps. Dr. Nelson began her first session with Lifter that day and made a narrative statement of her own in his file.
    'Today John Doe aka; Lifter, spoke for the first time.'
In his mind, the little boy had been lifting the car off his mother for twelve years. Today he was finally strong enough to make it happen.
                                             
                                                        The End