Kev finally woke up this morning and was able to say his name. He got the year correct, but guessed that it was July. He’s stable and aware. That is all the blessings I need on this day of Thanksgiving.

I spent the night in his room and watched as he went from not being able to keep his legs or arms up in the air at all, to being able to hold them up to the count of ten. I’ve never been so proud of him!! I was finally able to get some sleep and now I am sitting in the cafeteria waiting for shift change on the ICU to be over so I can get back on the ward. The sun is starting to rise and the clouds and trees are glowing with the sunlight that will grace us for the first hour of today. It is one of those mornings where I feel as if I am standing on God’s front deck looking out at the wonderous creation put forth as our playground.

Speaking of playgrounds, I had to cancel all my holiday plans for the end of this week. And I had it all planned out so well! I was going to have coffee with an old friend before going to a potluck at a new friend’s house. I was going to spend tomorrow morning with my fiddle teacher and her kids playing in the playground by my house before going to a Friend’s Giving dinner with my soccer teammates. Instead, I will be here at the hospital waiting for my parents to arrive when I will then go home, take a shower, and sleep. I didn’t sleep much last night, but I don’t mind at all. I was holding my brother’s hand when he woke up and started gagging on his nose tube. The poor guy. They have to keep his hands restrained until the drain tube is taken out, which may be a few more days if we’re lucky. . . longer if Lady Luck decides to skip town for the holiday. I will hunt that bitch down if she leaves my brother stranded.

The guilt has finally started to creep in. There are so many things I feel horrible about:

• I let my brother clean up his own vomit before the shit really hit the fan. Why couldn’t I have been a good enough person to wipe up the mess for him?!? Am I doomed to be a miserably selfish person who can’t even help my brother when he pukes?? How callous can I honestly be??!
• I didn’t ride in the ambulance with Kev and I arrived too late to give them the earliest warning possible about his severe altered mental status. Would it have made a difference? I don’t know. But I think I wouldn’t feel so damn guilty about not being here when he needed me the most. At least I can hope that someone in that room, or in the hallway, listened to my words and will not make the mistake of assuming anything about a person in need of medical care in the future. Why is it so difficult for us as humans to keep an open mind when we encounter strangers?
• I feel bad I wasn’t nicer to the chaplain. He found me this morning in the cafeteria, but I still don’t want to talk with him. I simply do not want to go through the inane formality of small talk. I have never enjoyed small talk. My brother and I are twins in this regard. As friendly and helpful as the chaplain is, I simply am not in the mood to talk about my job, or where I live, or what books I like to read, or any of the other meaningless shit that people concern themselves with when trying to be ‘nice.’ I don’t effing want nice! I want to spend my mental energy and social efforts engaging about issues that are interesting. I would love to get into a conversation about God and the origin of existence, but not while I’m concerned with only knowing if my brother will be okay or not. I wish I were a nicer person, and I feel guilty about not being a nicer person, but. . . oh, well.

I guess my baptism worked. Guilt is embedded within my soul.  I may not be a practicing Roman Catholic like my family, but damned if I didn’t manage to internalize all the sinful woes of being alive. I don’t pray to God because I do not believe in God. I am not atheist, or agnostic. I simply do not believe in any version of God that man has created because that version is only a timidly pale comparison to the real deal that our puny human minds are incapable of perceiving. I can understand the comfort to be found in having a simple three-letter word to describe something beyond description. I will at times self-identify as Spiritual, but then that starts getting closer to all the New Age mumbo jumbo that I am equally averse to. So, where does that leave me? Either saved from my doom, or doomed from my Salvation, I suppose. Either way, does it even matter?

I have one last guilt clawing at my conscience this glorious morning. I want to go home and do all the things I had planned for today and tomorrow. I have an apple crumb pie from Sweet Life waiting to go to a potluck and be eaten by a bunch of people I was looking forward to spending time with. What am I going to do with a pie and no one to eat it? Honestly, that’s the last of my worries, but it bothers me that my plans changed so suddenly right before they were about to come to fruition (but, let’s be honest, that doesn’t bother me nearly as much as the reason why I’m not following through on my plans). At least I have one silver lining that has allowed me an opportunity to focus on something good that has come out of all this mess.

The reason why I couldn’t ride with Kev in the ambulance, or immediately follow in the taxi, is because I have learned how to take care of my diabetes without thinking too much about it. It has become instinctual. It has become an inherent component of my existence. Without my ability to monitor and take care of my diabetes, I may very well have ended up being a second casualty for the paramedics when they arrived at my front door last night. Or, I may have woken up feeling very sick this morning from high blood sugar and having no way to manage it without leaving my brother to go all the way home.

I was on the phone with the 911 dispatcher when my pump decided to beep at me for having a low reservoir. If I hadn’t taken the time to change my insulin before heading to the hospital to spend the night then I would definitely not be feeling as healthy as I do this morning. I would not have been able to be here to talk with the neurologist who will be performing his angiogram in thirty minutes. If I had chosen to ignore my own health in preference to my brother’s, then both of us would be suffering more than we are at this moment. The other moment last night I am rather proud of myself for was when I was on the phone with my mom before the paramedics showed up and, as I was talking with her, I could feel something was not right. I immediately stopped what I was saying and doing, and told my mom I needed to check my blood. She waited patiently on the phone while I came to the realization that I was at 66! I opened the door for the paramedics while still trying to suck down my juice box and prevent myself from becoming incapacitated as well.

My brother is in for his angiogram. They will hopefully find the bleed and be able to fix it with a catheter, or they may find nothing at all. Worse case scenario is surgery, but keep your fingers crossed, please!! My parents are just south of Portland and will be here with me soon. All my friends are keeping me cheered with texts full of love and support. The ICU staff is amazing and a blessing!! I actually have so much to be grateful for today I can’t help but to think every Thanksgiving from now on will somehow be pale in comparison as well.

There is a piano in the main lobby, but since I can’t play it, I am planning on bringing in my fiddle later and practicing my Christmas music here at the hospital. I will bring some holiday joy to this party!!! Tis the season after all. . .