The following is a journal entry from a few years ago. It may give you a better understanding as to why I live my life the way that I do.
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Nobody expects to get that phone call. Nobody expects to pick up a phone and have the world crash down on them. For me, that day was July 7th, 2007. I was at home, my parents were in Vernon, my oldest brother was working up in Alaska, and my other brother was at home here in the city. The number on the call display showed Seattle Hospital. A woman on the other end of the phone asked, “Is this the residence of Roger?”
“Yes.” I replied.
“What is your relation to him?”
“He’s my older brother.”
“I’m very sorry, but your brother has been in an accident. He is being airlifted down from Alaska as we speak.” Her voice cracked as she fought her own tears. “You are going to need to get here as soon as possible. I am very sorry, but we don’t think he is going to survive. I am so sorry.”
I stood there in a moment of nothing. Who knew that the sound of the world crashing down on them was cold, calm silence? A flood of emotions then hit me at once: denial, anger, frustration at life. It wasn’t fair. My brother deserved to live. No, he didn’t just deserve to live, he didn’t deserve to be in that accident in the first place. My brother had already lost a year of his life to his battle with cancer: a battle that almost killed him a few years before this accident. He is the strongest person I know, he fought back and regained his life only to have it slipping away again, and it just wasn’t fair. I began to pace- a habit of my brother’s that I made fun of him for doing. I figured that this was as good a time as any to start the ritual myself.
A few hours later, my boyfriend and I met my parents at the hospital in Seattle. Oh the hospital, a place where life begins and ends, and creates some good stories in between. Now, I had seen my brother in the hospital for months on end during his cancer treatment, but he had always still been himself. Even when his body was being battered with chemotherapy and radiation in preparation for transplant, he still had a spark of life in his eyes. I was unprepared for what I was about to walk into. My brother had essentially drowned. Having his body in the water for who knows how long, did not just produce ‘pruned’ fingers like the ones I get if I sit in the bath too long. His entire body was swollen. His hands were like paws and his face had seemed to lose all of its features. He was not breathing on his own; the magic of tubes and machines was doing that for him. I held his hand for a while, a team of doctors and nurses were buzzing about but I heard silence, my mind was trying to process everything. As I walked into the waiting area I made a beeline for the washroom door, proclaiming to my family in the most normal voice possible, “I’ll be right out.” When I heard the click of the door behind me, I collapsed into the wall, and then sunk down lower than the floor and just cried.
Even though it wasn’t technically allowed, we all slept on the floor of the intensive care unit family waiting room. Actually, I didn’t sleep, I paced. I think I was afraid to sleep because the sooner I slept, the sooner the next day would come. I wasn’t ready to deal with what the next day could bring. The doctors had told us that if he made it through the night we would have a lot to be hopeful for. It was a very long night, but he made it through. A few days later, the tube was removed from his throat and he was awake. My brother had survived when they thought he wouldn’t, again. The next week he was back at home in Canada, chomping at the bit to go hang out with friends.
Sometimes it almost doesn’t seem like it was real. Perhaps it was my crazy imagination running down a very dark road. However, I can’t slip into denial, and I especially can’t slip into disregard. Things happen for a reason, whether they are great or horrible, they exist to shape each and every one of us. They exist to challenge us, to push us, and to strengthen us. What good is living your life if you are not accountable to it? Some people do not have the fortune to take their lives for granted. They have fought for every additional day on this Earth. Shouldn’t we fight alongside them? Seeing my brother get to live his life, even the day-to-day boring stuff, keeps me motivated to live my own life. Not just to live, but to live in a way that helps others get to live their lives too.
Call me Moni-Q. 