The Tables Were Turned: I Had To Be Strong For My Brother
“Sisters and brothers just happen, we don’t get to choose them, but they become one of our most cherished relationships.” WES ADAMSON
I have a wonderful and generous older brother, Mark. He is two and a half years older than I am and refers to me as his little sister. I always found this funny because we are not that far apart in age.
We are extremely close and he calls me every single day. Unfortunately, we live a plane ride away from each other.
He has always watched out for me. I have several chronic health issues and he worries about me. We became closer when our beloved mother passed away five years ago.
I could never have gotten through that devastating ordeal without my brother by my side. He has always been my rock and makes me feel safe and loved.
One time when he was visiting me, he was very sick and looked awful. He was in the middle of one of his diverticulitis flares. He had a temperature of 102 and was in so much pain. I had never seen my brother like this and it was very foreign to me.
He was going to go to the ER but decided he wanted to fly home. I don’t know how he survived his very long day of travel.
Three months later and a year and a half after our mother’s death, Mark was on the surgery table for diverticulitis. He was 59 and this was his first surgery. I hoped it would go well for him.
He called me on the day of his surgery and he sounded terrible. He was very weak and fatigued. He didn’t sound like the brother I knew. He called me every day and every time I got off the phone with him I cried.
My brother has always been so strong and hearing him sound like this just killed me.
His surgery was on a Tuesday and he called me on Sunday and said that he was going to be taken into emergency surgery. He was very calm and told me not to worry. I was very worried!
I found out later that his bowel perforated and he could very well have died. He recently told me that if he weren’t in the hospital at the time he would be dead.
Mark remained in the hospital and rehab for five weeks, including Christmas.
I sent him a little Christmas tree plant to cheer him up. When he called and told me he got it, he said it was beautiful and it made him cry. He then proceeded to tell me that he was the one who was supposed to take care of me.
He continued to call me daily. His wife kept me updated with texts and calls.
I sent my brother inspirational and funny memes every morning to lift his spirits and let him know that I was thinking of him.
This was a very difficult time for both of us. It made me realize that he was, indeed, human. He has always been a positive and chipper person. He even told me once that his blood type was B+ and that he had to be positive. No one deserves that blood type more than my brother. It is just so apropos.
While my brother was in the hospital, the UConn women’s basketball coach had the same surgery. He was out of the hospital in a few days and back at work. I was upset that my brother’s surgery was so very different.
During all of this, a favorite older cousin of ours was going through lung and brain cancer. I had gone to her appointments with her and she was in a nursing home dying while my brother was so sick.
She eventually died; Mark would always ask me how she was. He was so weak and vulnerable and both his wife and I didn’t think he could handle this news during his challenging recovery.
I felt terrible lying to him. I always told him she was the same, even after her death. It wasn’t like he could come to the funeral. He was in the hospital fighting for his life.
His wife sent a beautiful flower arrangement to the funeral home.
Lying to my brother reminds me of the heart-wrenching times my mother asked me when she could go home while she was on hospice in her final days.
This question upset me so much and I always responded by saying she would go home when she got stronger. She wasn’t aware that she was so sick because she had dementia. She didn’t know that she wasn’t going home, but I did.
When my brother was well enough, his wife told him about our cousin. He wasn’t happy to hear the news but understood why we kept it from him.
Whenever I think of that sad time when my brother was struggling so much, I realize how fragile life is.
What if he had died? I wouldn’t have been able to cope with that, especially so soon after my mother’s death. Or anytime.
Unfortunately, my brother still suffers from chronic abdominal pain because of his surgery and scar tissue.
I am so relieved that he survived. He is so important to me and I love him very much. I couldn’t have asked for a better brother.
“Brothers and sisters separated by distance joined by love.” CHUCK DANES
