My Brother

I'm feeling nostalgic, weepy, frustrated and full of angst today.  And since this is my blog I feel that it's my right to put those feelings down here on paper - so to speak - so that I can walk away from them.

My brother is fighting cancer.  Again.
 

My brother, Ben, with baby Jasec Benjamin - named after him.

I'm mad about it.  Mad doesn't really capture the depth of my emotions.  I'm angry, bitter, frustrated.  I want to scream at the sky like people do in movies.  But I'm not in a movie.  And my kids would be freaked out if I did that.  But I want to.

This is his fifth fight.

Last night around midnight I was up with the baby and got a text from Ben's wife, Sara, saying they were at the ER.  Ben is having severe chest pains.  I got another text from my Dad at 1:30 a.m. saying that they were trying to stabilize his pain and would stay over night.  7:30 a.m., another text from Sara saying he was being admitted to the hospital.  He was in too much pain to be transported to Huntsman, so he's just in the local hospital for now.  But they don't "do cancer" there. 

Luckily my kids had a previously scheduled play date this morning and I was able to recruit my MIL to watch the baby.  I headed up to spend time with my brother.... after hugging my kids tight and thanking God that they are healthy.  Because this could be me in 30 years, watching my kid fight in a hospital bed.

As I sat in that hospital room this morning I looked at my little brother - yes, bigger than me, but always my little brother - and I thought about these things:

We used to ride our bikes down to a pond area and catch tadpoles in old milk jugs.  We'd line those tadpole filled milk jugs up along a wall in the garage and hope they'd grow into frogs.  They never did.  So we got smart and started catching frogs.  But they just hopped out of the jugs and were gone by morning.

We built lego fortresses in the raspberry bushes along the back fence.

I talked him into stealing the babysitter's bike and she was so ticked.  It was awesome. 

I talked him into flushing a hot pad down the toilet after the toothbrush didn't clog it.

I talked him into trying to make himself throw up by sticking his finger down his throat.

When we were little Ben got sick with cellulitis (sp?) and had to stay in the hospital overnight.  My dad was out of town and so I stayed overnight with Ben to keep him comfortable and help him feel safe.

One time a boy my age hit Ben in the face with a flat basketball.  I tackled that boy, sat on his chest and punched his lights out. 

We used to take Ben's motorcycle up in the hills around my parent's house.  I'd ride behind him and we'd go all over the place.  Sometimes, just to bug him - although I secretly think he liked it - I'd sing the Batman theme song in his ear while we rode.  He'd tell me to knock it off.  But he'd laugh too. 

The first time I got bucked off  a horse, Ben was there.

The first time a boy broke my heart, I told Ben all about it.

One time a rooster attacked me.  Ben hit it with an umbrella to get it off.

When I learned how to ride a bike, Ben hurried and learned too so that he wouldn't be left behind.  He was four.  And I was glad I didn't have to leave him behind.

The only time in my life I ever stole anything - long story, don't judge - Ben was there in the getaway car, laughing and high fiving.

One time Ben tried to run away, but I talked him into coming home.  'Cause I'd miss him.

I'll always do my best to talk Ben into coming home. 
Because I'd miss him.

Love you, B.