My brother…my heartbeat….
I recently found out that my brother who is a year older than I am is HIV positive, actually now has progressed to a full blown AIDS stage. My mother had always suspected that he is infected, due to swollen glands under his neck. When I asked him about them & if he’s had them checked out, he told me that the doctor’s say it’s TB.
In February, during one of my regular daily calls to him, he admitted to me that he’s HIV positive, I asked him if he was ok, he told me that he’s accepted that he is infected & then asked me to inform the family. My heart bled…for a second I thought of my “twin” (that’s what I used to call him as we were growing up, he’s a year older than I am you see) and we grew up being quiet close. In those split seconds of him telling me of his infection, I saw, felt & tasted death, I was floored, hopeless. I couldn’t believe my twin – my only brother was telling me that in a few months (possibly) he would leave me to fend for myself in this world, the world he’s always protected me from, from a young age. I tried my best not to cry & succeded. I couldn’t do it you see, I felt I needed to be strong for him. Instead I said “I will call you back my skat, and yes I will tell mother & leave it up to her to tell everyone else in the family”, this is not a death sentence, many people live with HIV for years with proper treatment & a healthy lifestyle, and we’ll do it together.
He left PE for home the following day & I took some time off work to go home & be with him. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw when I got home. He had started wasting away, his skin was peeling off, and he had lost a considerable amount of weight & was hospitalized. I kissed him hello & I was called aside by my mother & sisters to be told that we had been advised by the doctor’s & nurses to limit physical contact & to handle him with gloved hands when touching him, I went back to his ward & hugged him for dear life & told him I was glad I to see him. He looked at me probing for any sign of hurt or disappointment on my part, I told him the past doesn’t matter, we don’t need to dwell there, its gonna be ok, whilst my heart was screaming…Lord, I could have carried this for him anytime…Why God? Why?...Help me God!…help me!….I don’t know how to deal with this huge pain in my heart, and I’m afraid this lump in my throat will betray me & he will feel hopeless if he sees me cry. I didn’t break down…I smiled on…my smile not reaching my eyes however…
Around midnight of that Friday he was discharged, he fell asleep as soon as we got home…a few minutes later he called my name, I ran to his room & told him, I’m here, is there something wrong?, he said “no nothing’s wrong”, I just wanted to be sure you’re here. I couldn’t sleep, he called me throughout the night. The following day (Saturday) the disease ate away at him so quickly that his state worsened from morning to lunchtime, lunchtime to 10 minutes later & so on & so forth. At around 8 pm, we rushed him back to the hospital, he was giving in & had started to turn a shade of blue, his hands icy cold, I held his hands, I didn’t care about gloves, I wanted to feel his skin on mine & let him know I love him. If this was his last day, then I needed him to know I love him… As I was packing his hospital bag & talking to my mom & dad about hospital finances, my mother asked me where his ID book was, the last thing I remember saying is ID book neh….and then the inevitable happened, a torrent of tears came flowing from a deep place of pain, I cried the whole weekend.
For the next week I spent my time at the hospital, I washed him, fed him, talked with him (although half the time he was hallucinating) due to the high HI Viral load in his body, which was beginning to affect his brain. Monday morning as I washed his feet he sang me a song which best described my state of emotions at the time: “How do I live without you? I want to know? How do I live without you if you ever go? How do I ever, ever survive? How do I? Oh how do I live? The fact that he had difficulty breathing whilst singing that song, made that moment, the most special moment in my life, one I will always cherish.
I walk into his hospital room Tuesday morning & he smiles at me saying “Cynthia ( a name I hardly use…a first name I always choose to forget, a name he knows I dont prefer.... but today feels like the most beautiful name on earth because its coming from his mouth)….”Yes” I say….”God has given me grace” he says….I want to weep, he’s never said anything good about God all his life….”How do you know” I ask…. “I can’t explain it” he responds, “I just feel it”…”God is not fiction Cynthia, I saw him yesterday” he says with eyes closed as if to savour the memory/thought/revelation….And in that moment I feel God hugging me….”And why do you call me Cynthia” I probe holding back tears….”it is your name isn’t it”…he says looking at me with his beautiful big pure white eyes…we burst out laughing…the virus hasn’t affected his eyes, they’re beautiful… I’m glad…If eyes are the window to the soul, then his soul is beautiful, big & pure…
He’s home now, I’m back @ work. Everyday is a struggle, he’s taking his TB treatment, ARV’s are not recommended at this stage as his body is very weak, he needs to continue on the TB treatment the doctor’s tell us, after regaining some strength…only then can he start on ARV treatment…. somedays he can’t stomach it, sometimes he can. Sometimes I can take it, sometimes I cant. I scream at God, I beg him, I curse Him, I beg him, I humble myself…everyday is a different day.
To be continued….