Not for the faint of heart. ( Day 3)

  Less than a month from his 24rd birthday my youngest brother was realistically nearly taken from us. That was a couple days ago. You wake up and go through your monotonous routine. Make the coffee, bottle the baby, splash some water on your face, get your day moving. And you don't live in crazy irrational fear of all the horror the day could hold. It's human nature to start fresh every day with ( for the most part) a decent disposition and renewed readiness for a good day. And half way through the morning we get a call from my sis, who is at work. Not good on a bunch of levels because we don't ever really talk on the phone and also if she is calling mid-morning I am already running down the list of problems that could have arisen. This time it was worse than I could ever have imagined.

  My brother was working on a demolition site with a team ( most of which I am having a hard time deeming competent at this point) and has been for a while now. He isn't new to manual labor and what occurred is a freak incident no doubt. A piece of machinery that has a bucket on the front with a closing top that opens closes scoops and lifts by way of hydraulics I believe is called either a backhoe or a front loader. I dunno. I keep picturing in my head and then when I googled a picture of it and I cried and puked, so I won't post it for you. Also, don't google it after you read this. Anyhow, that machine is what my brother was loading with debris by hand when ( for god knows why or how) he was pinched by the bucket like a toy in a claw machine. He was life flighted, and after many life saving surgeries and many, many hours, he is in stable condition. I do hate that doctors say " at this time" or "right now" when they let us know he is stable. That is not exactly comforting honestly. All of the actual facts from the last few days are now just feeling like a script from a TV drama. I feel like I know it's real but my heart and my stomach are really in protest of vomiting any more than necessary. He is horribly wounded and all I could think when I saw him was " His face is ok. He is still so handsome." Because when I was all worried that he could come out paralyzed, I was trying to envision him with a smile. My sister keeps telling me how positive he will be no matter what the end result of permanent damage amounts to. I am sincerely hoping she is right. He will have damage for life. We have been told that. Now it's really a long term measure of how severe.

 This has all been a kick in the she-balls for me. I haven't been that awesome of a sister in the last year or so. I have a tough time separating a sister role from a parenting role when it comes to him. I worry. I am over bearing. And when his stupid youth brain tells him to make poor choices I don't know how to make him listen. That in itself is my problem. I NEED him to listen to reason. Factors created by nature including but not limited to: his age, that he is male, his friends, the weather, my mother.......ect, make it impossible for my helpless attempts of steering his life into "correct" behaviors. I can't save him from the world. Or himself. All people make their own choices and need to live their own lives. Though I really just want him to be happy, his version of happiness doesn't have to be all sunshine and rainbows and rounded corners and no sharp things or bad people. I feel like a horrible person for pulling back and giving the cold shoulder instead of just being there for him and letting him live how he wants. I see my error now. It's too bad it took something like this to make me swallow my bitchy pride and admit to myself I am overprotective to a smothering fault when it comes to the baby brother.






 Life altering madness that makes weird stuff feel sentimental and the rational world feel crazy.



And now I will go make food for a cranky toddler and wait for our next update.