(no subject)
It finally happened. He's in the hospital, and it amazes me that it took this long. He cheated it so long, escaped the inevitable, and I fell into thinking this was only something my mom and I would talk about and prepare ourselves for, without believing I'd ever have to face it. But it happened-- one week after we left Indiana. Our visit with him in Indiana has haunted me in a way I don't even want to try and describe, and I somehow knew this was going to happen. I had this horrible vision after our visit of a tragic event happening right after we left, and dreams haunted me of his hospitalization, his suicide, his death. I hope only the first in this list materializes.
His pancreas has a bad infection, the result of years of relentless alcoholism. They're doing tests on his stomach and liver today, as far as my mom can tell, since Chris is so sick he can barely straighten out his thoughts to relay the facts. If this happened one week earlier or we were there one week later, we could have spent the time in the hospital with him to try and help him figure all this out. But it didn't happen that way, and it's maddening to me right now. He was finally able, after three days in the hospital, to keep down some broth this afternoon. His shaking is so severe, however, that he can't even bring the spoon to his own lips. He sits alone right now in the hospital bed as people he doesn't know travel in and out of his room, bombarding him with questions he can only half-answer because his mental state is so unstable. His withdrawal symptoms have begun, fiercely.
I went to the gynecologist yesterday, something that cost my family and me $110 because of DU's summer health fee. Had I known at that point that Chris was in the hospital, I would have skipped the fucking exam and told my mom to fly out and see her son. I didn't find out until I walked out of the doctor's office, and that also maddens me. I can't think of anything else right now, except looking at my life and feeling physically sick because it has been so much better than his. I have experienced happiness. We've had to deal with the same shit in our lives, but I have experienced happiness, and it kills me that he hasn't.
It's easy for people to think of alcoholism as a choice rather than a disease, and to a certain degree, I can understand that. But nobody could convince me that, if my brother could have seen this as his future, he would have chosen it. He wouldn't, and I'm confident in that claim. People simplify this disease too much. There is nothing simple about it. I really can't write anymore right now, but I have a lot to say.