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I don't know what else to do, so I'm writing this. My brother Jon is sick again. He came into this world early, underweight. At a few weeks old, he stopped breathing. The doctors told my mom it could happen again, any time. She didn't sleep much that year. At 10, he started losing weight. The doctors didn't know why. At first they thought he had leukemia but discovered he had Type 1 diabetes. In the fifth grade, Jon was instructed by the nurses how to give himself the daily shots of insulin he'd need every day for the rest of his life.
My mom talks about what a happy child he was; full of light and laughter. His illness changed him. Jon fought for survival and developed a tough exterior as a defense. He argued, debated, and was self-centered. Law school seemed like a natural choice for him and he fought his way through.
As my sister Jenny and I watched him in his hospital bed this time, incoherent and in restraints to keep him from falling, it was difficult to imagine him arguing cases in court just two short years before. Here he was laid bare by illness and a hospital gown; dependent on the compassion of others.
Jon sees his life slipping away in little pieces. He hangs on to his girlfriend of over 20 years who is just as self-absorbed as he is. She has her own health concerns and couldn't manage to make it to the hospital five miles away from her home, so we drove to Las Vegas from L.A., first my sister Jenny and I, then my mom and sister Kathy.
So much of his life is illusion. He has a luxury car that he doesn't drive and can ill afford on his disability payments, and a girlfriend who lacks a compassion gene, yet these are pieces of his life he hangs onto. His family loves him no matter what, yet we are helpless. We can't make his nausea go away; we can't give him his life back. We're the ones he lashes out at.
Last night as I talked on the phone with Kathy, she remarked, "It's a good thing my self-esteem doesn't hinge on what Jon says to me." We laughed. We've got big shoulders. We've been blessed with good health; he's had to fight his whole life. We cut him slack and find compassion no matter what he dishes out. He's often not willing to go along with what the rest of us would like for him to do. He's stubborn and drives our husbands to distraction. 21 years ago, when he was in renal failure, we were all tested as kidney donors. Jenny gave him one of her kidneys, and, like Jenny, the kidney is strong and has performed all these years. If only the rest of Jon were as strong as Jenny's super kidney.
When Jenny and I arrived at his hospital bed the day after Christmas, I wondered if he'd leave the hospital this time. I'd never seen him so bad. Jon fought and by Monday he was released. His stubbornness and determination keep him going, but how much can one body take? If I could only make him better. All I can do is pray and hope.
