living a nightmare. waiting to dream again.

i have been waiting, rather impatiently, for scottie to come visit me in my dreams. i had one dream with him in it while i was in florida. my grandma, who has been dead for over 11 years now, also make an appearance. i don't even remember the last time i dreamt about her. but harry woke me up in the middle of it, & there was little to be remembered. i am jealous of people who dream about scottie, or when my husband tells me he has dreams of his father elliott. they seem so meaningful & special & profound. the women in the grasp meeting last night were talking about their dreams of their loved ones. one woman had an inspiring story of her daughter's dream about her son, who overdosed. in the vision, the daughter asked her brother if it was really him who visited her while she was asleep, or if it was only her imagination. the image assured her that it was really him, her real brother. i want that so badly because right now, it seems like the only way for him to communicate with me. instead, at night i seem to be in a state in between wake & sleep, ambiguously living out my previous day's events.

sometimes, i lamentably have relived the days before scottie's release from this world. my mom had left my house after dinner on the wednesday night of january 19, after spending 2 blissful days together. my brother hadn't called us, like we thought he might. i think we had a mixture of relief & confusion. we didn't have to worry about what kind of state he would be in after the long ride from florida. we wouldn't have to say no to him, again, if he asked to be taken to the park, or distress over where he was going to stay. but all the same, we still wanted him to call. i couldn't wait for him to see harry. in the back of our minds, we always kept our guard up, waiting to again be hurt by his addiction, or waiting for his addiction to hurt him again.

we all went to sleep, mike & i in our third story bedroom in philadelphia, mom & her boyfriend, al in their rural new jersey residence. at 1 in the morning she got a phone call from one of scott's friends, telling her that he wasn't breathing. my mom told me later that for the first time in years, she hadn't thought of scottie immediately when the phone woke her up so late at night. usually when any of us got a phone call in the middle of the night, we couldn't help but think that scott was in some kind of trouble. or he'd be wasted, commandeer a phone & call to babble, oblivious of the time or annoyance that he caused. early that thursday morning, my mom couldn't comprehend what the distressed friend was saying. scottie wasn't breathing? he was being taken to the hospital? they tried cpr on him? my mom got out of bed to make the drive back across the bridge to philly when the weight of the situation became real & she broke down. it had finally happened, all that we had been foreseeing for the past few years, our biggest fears were coming true.

i, also, got a phone call at 2 am from a number i didn't recognize. just like my mom, i didn't automatically think of scott. i was exhausted, from being mom to a kid who still wakes up during the night, & ignored the ringing. (i found out later it was a nurse in the emergency room calling from the hospital. how she got my number, i'll never know.) moments later, mike's phone rang & he answered groggily. it was my mom, informing him of what was going on. mike has never been one to wake up easily or promptly so he was unable to process what my mom was saying. after piecing together what i heard mike repeating, i took the phone from mike & tried to interpret what my mom was telling me. my brother had been found not breathing by a couple friends. the doctor's had revived him at the hospital. they think he had been out for 20 minutes & had cardiac arrest. he was at the university of pennsylvania hospital, only a few miles from my house. my mom had just gotten there with her boyfriend, so she wasn't alone. she told me not to come right then; try to sleep, stay with harry in case he needed me & we'd see what happened in the morning. he was being stabilized so we wouldn't be allowed to see him anyway.

sleep was the farthest thing from my possession. i went downstairs in the daze & turned on the television, hoping to trick my mind into thinking about something besides my brother; the only thing it did was help pass the time. i knew that scott was alive, but so unsure about what to expect. i needed answers, i didn't want to be blindsided at the hospital. but i was immensely afraid of what i could uncover. i eventually fought my fears & researched cardiac arrest on the internet. cardiac arrest occurs when the heart stops beating. because my brother hadn't been breathing for such a long period of time, the lack of oxygen caused a cardiac arrest. my world stopped spinning when i discovered that brain death or loss of life can occur just 4 minutes after cardiac arrest. at 10 minutes, likelihood of revival is nearly impossible (in case you want to read more about cardiac arrest).

the reality was clear: scott would probably never again be the brother i had grown up with. but i despite the facts typed out on the bright computer screen in front of me, i couldn't succumb to that awful truth. scottie had fought through so many crazy situations before. he'd been arrested plenty of times. he had been found drunkenly passed out on so many occasions. he'd survived the loss of his fingers for god's sake. this couldn't be his end. it wasn't supposed to be this way.

harry ended up waking up at some point & fell asleep on my chest. i was laying on the couch, waiting for the sky to brighten outside the window. my mom finally called around 6 or 7 & told me that scottie was stable with the aid of ventilators & machines. the doctor's weren't able to give any concrete information yet but we would be able to go see him. she said her boyfriend had to leave so to come over as soon as possible. i got dressed, left harry with mike & my mother-in-law, bought some coffee for my mom & me, & went to the hospital. i frantically gave the woman behind the desk my brother's name & what floor i thought he was on. she rudely told me that there was no name in that unit. i remember being so angry at her, how dare she treat me like that. doesn't she know my brother is dying? she saw how distressed i was, searched a bit harder & pointed me in the right direction. i walked passed where i had gotten an ultrasound with harry a year and a half ago. it was such a life changing moment; seeing the life that my husband & i created for the first time, watching his tiny heart beat so quickly on the monitor; being amazed at how intricate, miraculous, & perfect he already was, only 20 weeks inside my uterus.

i met my friend nikki at the elevator. nikki was on duty as a chaplain that thursday & during the morning meeting, her ears perked up when she heard scottie's name mentioned & how he had overdosed the night before. once she heard that he had a sister that lived nearby with a baby, she was sure he was my brother. she brought me to the waiting room where my mom was sitting. my mom & i hugged & cried. she had wanted to wait for me to go see scottie; it was too much for a mother to handle alone. we walked down the bright, sterile hallway. about a dozen doctors, students, & nurses were having a meeting in front of my brother's room, as they do twice a day, morning & night, as protocol for every patient on the floor.

i made my way through the staff. i could see my brother through the glass wall. he was lying in the bed as if he was sleeping. tubes of all sizes & purposes were sticking out of his arms & face; blood slowly trickled out of the holes. scottie's long ratty curls were matted to his forehead. his dirty feet were sticking out of the blanket. they were always abnormally large, even as a kid, & had the second toe that stood taller than the big toe, an unfortunate family trait. it was such a comfort to still smell them, exactly like they reeked whenever he took off his shoes in my living room. i was instantly brought back to seeing him for the first time at cooper hospital the day after he cut off his fingers; his body horribly bloated & weak because of the hours he had spent in surgery. & i thought of my father-in-law, elliott, whom mike & i visited nearly everyday for 2 weeks in july, just 6 months earlier, before the severity of his prognosis was diagnosed & he was taken off of life support.

my mom & i clung to each other & sobbed. my mother's youngest son, whom she had given birth to 24 years & 2 months ago, was supposed to grow old & outlive her. she was supposed to watch him turn his life around & someday become a grandmother to his children. my poor brother, whom arrived in philadelphia just 11 hours before he overdosed, was already dead on the bed in front of me, though it took a while for the reality to sink in. after all, it just looked like he was sleeping. & how do your feet continue to stink after you are dead?

i have been reliving this nightmare consistently for over a month, in bits & pieces. if i think about it all at once, i shut down. even now, writing this out & seeing it in front of me, i am filled with such anguish. i wish scottie would come & tell me that he is ok, that he had seen the end of the story & everything is going to be alright. my brother-in-law, aaron, told me about a dream he had last night. in it, his dad, elliott was alive & waiting for him with a big chocolate chip cookie. aaron ran to elliott & hugged him. aaron was crying, for his lost dad & for scottie, whom he considered his brother. elliott held aaron & assured him to not worry about scottie, that he was just fine.