“Barry, you’re going to be home tonight, right? Okay…..I just ask because you know I can’t stay there overnight and Mom needs someone to be with her. Okay, thanks. Oh and Barry? Can you try to come straight from work if possible?....Sorry, I just mean so she’ll have someone with her. I’m not telling you what to do. I’m asking if you’d mind… Okay. Bye”
I hung up my cell phone. I sat in my mother’s hospital room, watching her hands twitch every so often. I now lived in Boston but flew back home to care for my mother after her surgery. I had brought her in for the surgery and eagerly waited for her to awaken. I looked at my watch. It’s been 9 hours since she was brought into the recovery room. “I don’t think you’ll be able to get her into the car yourself,” the nurse says to me. “Let’s wait a few more hours until she’s a bit more awake.” The doctors had told me that my mother should not be alone for the first 48 hours following her surgery. A few hours later I was assisting my mother out of the wheel chair and into the car. The nurse had shown me how to tend to her wounds, something that needed to be done every four hours.
I got my mother home, into the upright position she was to assume for the next few days and tried to get her to eat a little something. By this time it was already 11:00pm and no sign of my brother. I began to get nervous as I didn’t think I could spend the entire night at my mother’s house. I was very allergic to my mother’s dog and found it impossible to sleep in her house. I was now on my 20th hour awake and worried that my constant sneezing and coughing would wake my mother or worse – make her sick in some way.
My brother was now 31 years old. He lived with my mother, which is why I thought it would be easier for him to come home and look after her long enough for me to go back to my hotel to sleep for a few hours. As I feared, however, it was impossible to get my brother to come straight home from work. Without fail, each night my brother would take his spot on the barstool at his favorite bar. My brother’s self pity and ability to point the finger at all others in his life, made it possible for him to create his own, comfortable world. Throughout his teens, with the steadfast help of his beloved drink, he slowly and methodically built his own world around him. Either you were allowed into his world and had to live by his rules or you were exiled. I love my brother very much and did what I could to stay in his life. I stayed away from topics that angered him. I tried to show him as much love and support as I could and hoped that he would move past this self-indulgent phase. When he complained, I consoled. When he got into trouble, I bailed him out. I still saw that spark in him that had made me so proud to be his sister. I still saw the person I grew up with. My brother failed to graduate high school. He had one child who he no longer saw or supported. Throughout his 20s, he held down various positions as his alcoholism grew immeasurably. He slowly deteriorated. It became rare for me to see my brother sober by the time he’d turned 30.
By this time, I knew all too well how lost my brother was. I still hadn’t thought, however, that he wouldn’t be able to care for his mother after her surgery for one night. One night of no drinking. One night of coming home to the mother who’d allowed him to stay, rent-free, in her home. One night of lying beside her so I can get some sleep before returning to the house to care for her. It was 3:00 AM when my nose began to bleed. My body was reacting to hours of allergic reactions. I grabbed a pillow and went out to my car. It was the only way I could think of getting some relief. I set the alarm on my cell phone for two hours, so I could check on my mother. I held the tissues to my nose as one angry tear ran down my cheek. ‘This is not who he is,’ I thought. ‘I cannot have a brother like this.’
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