At her sister’s urging, Abigail Maslin started a blog last week called, “Love for the Maslins: Our Story and Road to Recovery,” documenting the aftermath of a brutal attack that left her husband TC unrecognizable. “Who is this man lying in the hospital day after day?” she writes in one post. “His left eye puffy, protruding from his head. His swollen skull held together by 50 staples.”
Implanted into his abdomen, is the other part of TC’s skull. It’s the part of the skull, writes Maslin, that was “brutally bashed in,” making it clear to readers that, “TC was not simply ‘assaulted and left unconscious,’ as one might read or hear in the media.”
Fact is, he was assaulted, but it was so violent that, left to linger in an unconscious state for nearly eight hours while the left side of his brain hemorrhaged, it drained Mr. Maslin of his faculties completely. But he was alive. And now, mired behind a throb of veiny tubing and wiring, there is this man.
“This man,” she writes, “this stranger, is my husband – the kindest, most intelligent, most caring human I have ever known.”
For Maslin, there is no one on the planet less deserving of this than her husband. She describes the day of the incident, writing that he seemed, “relaxed,” and that she was happy to see him this way; he’d been putting in some heavy hours at work lately. He kissed her while she brushed her teeth. He was going for an early morning run. She thought to herself that he looked “cute” in his running outfit; she was pleased that he took care of himself.
Less than 24 hours later, hell visited the Maslin family. What transpired over the course of the next 11 days is a part of Maslin’s story that she’s not yet ready to share publicly.
“In time I’ll be able to better write about the past 11 days and my experience during that time. For now, I have to share where I am mentally,” she writes.
It’s an alien world for Maslin now, a world where words like “secretion,” and “trach” are commonplace. Where priorities are instantly reordered, and expectations are rejiggered and ratcheted back to welcome progress in any form. With statements like, “for the moment, TC is breathing on his own,” and “one of TC’s nurses said he ‘really isn’t appropriate for ICU anymore,” hope and happiness are now measured and meted out one agonizing mini breakthrough at a time; marathon is the new slogan.
Minding warnings by doctors that her husband isn’t likely to sprint through his recovery, in a post titled, “Patience,” Maslin writes that, “In my head I yelled, ‘Yeah, yeah. I can handle a marathon. I just want my husband alive.” Confident that she and her family have the, “spirit and determination to go on like this for weeks and weeks,” Maslin writes that every hour is still a “trying ordeal.”
Determinedly wagging his finger at a whiteboard with the word home written on it, TC Maslin is bravely struggling to get there. Paved with grit and anguish, the Maslin family’s road to recovery, so far, has been a heartsore slog up steep climbs pebbled with guilt, anger, hope and heroism, and hopefully, it will soon lead home.
Today, Maslin reconciles that “this is ‘our’ life now,” writing that she can’t eat, she can’t hear her husband’s voice in her head, she can’t picture him sleeping next to her or kissing and holding their young son Jack, “I can’t do these things because the anger that lives inside of me rushes to the front of my brain, making me want to scream, throw things, sob uncontrollably, and seek vengeance.”
Redemption And Love For The Maslins: How the villains who brutalized TC Maslin were caught
A Year From Now And Love For The Maslins: An update from the road to recovery.