woot woot
12 hours at the ICU last night, as mentioned before, and then 4 hours of sleep. Woke up hungry to a phone call telling me my brother was awake and talking. They took his vent out this afternoon a few hours after I went home to sleep.
He was asked if he remembered why he was in the hospital, and his reply just kills me. He says he went to the fuckin' McDonalds with my Dad at 4 am, and the fruit punch he ordered gave him food poisoning. My sister told him they were putting the place out of business.
I have been with him ever since, holding his hand and cracking jokes. He has been fucking with me all evening--he wanted a pad and pen to write something, which I brought from the nurse's station. After he finished scrawling around on the paper, he began to giggle hoarsely as his wife and I looked at what he had drawn: a hairy dong.
I have been grinning all night. My brother is so goddamn lucky. He seems 100% the same person I remember, despite putting his head through the automotive equivalent of a rock polisher. He's cried a few times over the evening from pain and confusion, but when it passes he goes right back to trolling the hospital.
Oh yeah. We put on classic rock and he was very, very hoarsely croaking along with Tom Petty and Van Halen. He got a hug for that one, just because it is so awesome to have him around and alive.
Oh god, and he has this suction tool to remove crap from his mouth and nose. The tube gave him a hell of a gooey cough, so I've been offering him the sucker-tube every now and then. Little fucker hawked a loogie right into it and made my throat go all weak and retchy. When I recovered from the gagging, he did it again. And smiled! I told him he's to blame if I puke, and I will be puking ON him. The next time he needed suction, he requested me specifically to hold it. Evil. Eeeevil.
Goddamn, I needed a day like this.
He was asked if he remembered why he was in the hospital, and his reply just kills me. He says he went to the fuckin' McDonalds with my Dad at 4 am, and the fruit punch he ordered gave him food poisoning. My sister told him they were putting the place out of business.
I have been with him ever since, holding his hand and cracking jokes. He has been fucking with me all evening--he wanted a pad and pen to write something, which I brought from the nurse's station. After he finished scrawling around on the paper, he began to giggle hoarsely as his wife and I looked at what he had drawn: a hairy dong.
I have been grinning all night. My brother is so goddamn lucky. He seems 100% the same person I remember, despite putting his head through the automotive equivalent of a rock polisher. He's cried a few times over the evening from pain and confusion, but when it passes he goes right back to trolling the hospital.
Oh yeah. We put on classic rock and he was very, very hoarsely croaking along with Tom Petty and Van Halen. He got a hug for that one, just because it is so awesome to have him around and alive.
Oh god, and he has this suction tool to remove crap from his mouth and nose. The tube gave him a hell of a gooey cough, so I've been offering him the sucker-tube every now and then. Little fucker hawked a loogie right into it and made my throat go all weak and retchy. When I recovered from the gagging, he did it again. And smiled! I told him he's to blame if I puke, and I will be puking ON him. The next time he needed suction, he requested me specifically to hold it. Evil. Eeeevil.
Goddamn, I needed a day like this.