Waiting. Something I’ve never been good at now seems to define my daily life. Although I know it’s impossible, I so badly want my brother just to instantaneously heal, to roll over one morning and surprise us all by having his mind back. I know this isn’t going to happen.

I know that Brendan and those around him have actually been very lucky with how quickly these first critical challenges were overcome. It was only 10 days ago that we were ecstatically celebrating that he could give a thumbs-up. Very shortly after, he began walking and talking. I have to keep reminding myself of this, and reading my previous posts and emails is helping me not to harp too much on the long road ahead. It’s just hard not knowing how long the road will be, where it will end, if ever, and how to measure steps. But even as I write this, I know there is really nothing I can do but be patient, focus on the good, and have faith in Brendan.

So let’s talk about today. I will do a re-cap at the end of this entry if you’re not interested in reading all the details and just want to know the basics, but for those of you who are interested, here’s the latest.

When I came in this morning, Brendan was awake. He had pulled out his feeding tube three times throughout the night and had apparently been quite restless. However, he seemed pretty awake to me, especially considering he had a very empty stomach (they hadn’t bothered to put the tube back in for a morning feed because he had a swallow test in the afternoon). He must have known who I was because he asked me where Mom and Dad were. I explained that they had decided to both make a quick stop at work before they’d be heading to the hospital. He was restless but I felt this was a good thing. He complained of being bored, which I don’t blame him, and was not impressed with the shows on T.V. We chatted a bit, some of his answers to my questions making sense, others, not so much. But while we were talking he definitely seemed way more himself than yesterday and much more engaged in the conversation. And then he got hungry. Really hungry. He kept asking for his wallet. When I told him I didn’t have it, he said my purse would do the trick. He was desperate to go downstairs to find a snack. While I hated to deny him food, I was pleased with his ability to solve the problem of how to get food – get money, go downstairs, buy something to eat. He shot out of bed, put on his slippers and started steadily heading down the hall, with me tagging along beside him, hoping he wouldn’t make a run for the elevators. Fortunately, I was able to keep him within the unit. We did two laps, his eyes scanning for any sign of food. When we reached our room for the second time, he looked at me, shrugged, and said, “Now what?”. I convinced him he should go back to bed or he’d miss his shower, and thankfully, he complied.

Brendan continued to try and get something to eat throughout the morning. He was in seemingly good spirits and chatty with visitors, including our grandma, aunt, Sara, and of course my mom and dad. However, every discussion led to food. He continued asking for debit cards, what we would be eating for dinner, and even offering to buy Sara and I whatever we want at Tim Hortons or the Loonie Store (big spender, I know!) if we would just help him get there. At one point, he pointed to the window and told me to “Look over there! Check that out!” while he quickly ran to the drawers to see if their contents included something to eat. He was desperate but did not seem upset. He had Sara and I laughing pretty hard when he called the nurse, too.

The discussion went something like this:

“Hello. I was told I’d be able to order some food. Would that be possible?” he said into the intercom.

“I’m afraid you can’t order food until 2pm, sir.” The nurse responded with a giggle.

“Well, then you’ll be hearing from me again at 1:45pm. Thanks.” Brendan said, and he hung up with a big smile.

Unfortunately, however, it seems he wore himself out a bit this morning. He had his speech therapy as well as barium swallow at 1pm, which we could barely get him out of bed for, even with the promise of food. By the time we did his test, he was far less cooperative and had a really difficult time focusing. It was my first time watching the tests, my first real indication of how incredibly fragile the brain is and how severely Brendan’s thought process had been affected. His inability to concentrate was shocking. He was constantly needing to be reminded of what he was doing and kept grabbing at pens and everything else on the desk. The opposite test didn’t go so well. She would say a word and he was expected to say the opposite. He got a couple, but some were completely out there or he would just repeat words he previously used. It was so odd to see. Perhaps the most frustrating test to watch was the categories. He was to list words that fit in a certain category. Some of the things he wrote just made absolutely no sense at all. How could an engineer, third in all of his program at a renowned university, not list a piece of fruit? Ugh. Fortunately, he did excel at one of the tests. He was to read two words and choose which one matched the picture in front of him. He was able to do this time and time again, which thankfully lifted our spirits a bit. Lastly, when asked to look at an object, say what it is, and describe its use, he started off strong but gradually became more and more confused, getting hung up on previous questions. At one point, he was just reading the serial number, or whatever it was, off the bottom of a flashcard, over and over again, and it felt like I was watching the movie Rainman. It was so incredibly strange and slightly heartbreaking, although I am confident he will do better with more practice and some food in his belly.

Speaking of food, it was not all bad news by any means. Brendan passed the barium swallow test, which means he can actually eat real food, without diet restrictions! We’re obviously going to try not to load him up with junk food or anything too heavy quite yet, but it was still very satisfying to see him slurp down a Peter’s Drive Inn milkshake in the afternoon. I haven’t yet heard how dinner went (I stayed home this evening to give him a little space and get some rest myself) but I believe his spirits should be greatly enhanced now that he can enjoy meals and not have any tubes shoved up his nose.

So, to sum up, Brendan had a good morning and was able to answer some questions correctly, identify people around him, and seemed in pleasant spirits, but was very hungry. He had cognition tests in the afternoon, which he didn’t do so well on, but we’re hoping for better results as the week goes on. He did pass his barium swallow test, which means he gets to eat real food, which we believe will greatly benefit his mood and energy levels. We still do not know how severe the damage is, and might not any time soon. We don’t know how long it’s going to take or how permanent anything will be. We do know that he is getting put on the list to move to rehab, but I am not sure he’ll be able to move if the spot comes up before he has some more of his memory abilities back. So please keep sending the positive vibes his way. We gotta have faith!! As for visits, I hate to still deny those that love him to come see him, but he seems to do better the fewer people he has around him.

Thank you all again for the continued encouragement. It is wonderful to be confident that my brother has a lifelong network of friends and family to support him, and to know that even strangers are rooting for his full recovery.

All my love,

Jane