A Tale of Two Brothers -- Again

I owe two blog entries to last week's question winners.  Those are not forgotten.  (I'm rather disappointed that no one has answered this week's question.  However, people have a life and my blog is not central to those lives!  Only to mine.)  The promised entries hover, circling, picking up steam, becoming less an idea and more a solid thought.  Soon, soon.  I'm sensing an essay and a poem.  But, at this very moment, aside from sensing sleep, there is another significant subject which needs tackling.  One in a series of major developments during this past stretch of days.

Again, it's a tale of two brothers.  I realize that three personable children, a husband, one senior dog, a deceptively charming cat, and my mother-in-law currently live in this house.  And, their actions spin off often humorous stories worthy of sharing here.  Fortunately for them, yet quite unfortunately for the dynamic brotherly duo, the days of their lives have been safe and somewhat commonplace.  Believe me when I state in writing that I eagerly await the day when my younger male siblings give me no cause to regale my readers with tales of their unanticipated antics!

So, Gary.  This afternoon.  He's on the phone with me.  Our conversation has gone on for roughly an hour.  We've both gone a bit daft in our tired heads and the chit-chat is humorous bordering on plain old silly.  In between our verbal riffs, he shouts out a few comments to one of his roommates concerning the difficult task of actually making contact with one's social worker on the ward.  In the background, the ward itself is rather quiet.  Suddenly, I hear Gary exclaim something in surprise and anger.  The phone clatters and continues to bounce against whatever surface from which it now dangles.  The sounds of a scuffle, fists thudding with dull meaty impact on a body, alarms jangling, footsteps, yells.  Someone picks up the phone.  The roommate.  Gary is all right, but he was attacked and they fought.  I thank him, still in the midst of calming myself, and we hang up.  Fifteen minutes later, the furious voice of my brother is informing me that Raven, a one-time trouble making roommate who threw hot water in Gary's face a few weeks back, approached and tossed a cupful of his own urine at Gary's face while he sat, unaware and relaxed, talking with me.  His anger is directed at the floor staff who promised to move this disturbed man to another ward weeks ago.  He will be penalized for beating on the guy.  I'm not so sure there are too many men in my sphere who would not throw a few punches after such an outrageous assault.  THIS is Gary's life right now.  (Yes, he immediately showered, changed clothes, and called from the other phone.)

Meanwhile, rewind to this weekend.  The eldest of my younger brothers, John, is attending his 20-year class reunion.  A wealthy and generous friend has opened his home and pool to the event.  John is playing pool basketball.  At some point, he vacates the pool in search of an errant ball.  Returning to the game, he jumps in and inadvertently crashes into another swimmer.  The forceful impact redirects the trajectory of his 5' 11" 185+ frame to the bottom of the pool -- head first.  He makes contact, opening an impressive gash on his head before floating up.  All is not well and this becomes immediately apparent.  His wife is upset, nervous, but somewhat hopeful once he moves his fingers and toes.  There is an ambulance ride to the neighboring city of Modesto.  (Our grandma lives there.  See the blog entry about my visit.)  In the midst of his shock and pain, John hears the rapid discussion between doctors and nurses regarding the extent of his injuries.  Words like 'surgery' and 'halo' are tossed out.  This scares him.  He is told that his outcome is most incredible and he is most fortunate.  Things could have been so much worse.  As it is, he is kept overnight and ordered to keep his broken second vertebrae in a neck brace for the next eight weeks.  No turns to the left.  No turns to the right.  No driving.  Drug up and rest up for the next few days or so.  Did they also tell him to send that alarming text message to his sister about his accident after she missed his call?!  Sister had to take a moment out in public to find an aisle where she could release a few tears of horror and gratitude at the news.  UGH!

And, there's not a darned thing I can do about any of it.  Besides pray.  Continue to be Sister G. to the both of them.  Send a care package of candy and other snack items to Gary courtesy of the online sites who handle such business for the psychiatric hospital there in Napa.  Send possibly annoying texts to John in an attempt to stay abreast of his situation (his wife actually has done a bang-up job of keeping me in the loop WITH pictures) . . . and hope that the impromptu trip he planned for his ENTIRE FAMILY just this past Saturday or Sunday will yet come to fruition in early October.