I’ll have been living out of a small suitcase between hotels and a hospital just shy of three weeks. My life has been some cruel waiting game. I waited for the hospital to call to say he made it there. Then I waited for them to call me to tell me what was wrong. Then I waited for my flight, my connection, a taxi and the elevators to the ICU floor. My brother. He’d had a stroke. The waiting continued. Doctors told us we had to wait for the swelling to go down. When it didn’t, we had to wait for the surgery, then the coma, then the pneumonia. We had to wait. Wait for the meds to wear off. Wait for the swelling to go down. Wait for him to move, follow commands, do anything. None of that happens. And now we wait until Monday. And Monday he moves to palliative care where we wait again. But then…we’ll be done waiting. And life changes forever.
