I recently lost a brother to covid. I have a spare, and momma has two spare sons, but it still hurts. A lot of people were very surpised, because he was a fairly healthy fellow in his early 40's, with no known pre-existing conditions. I put known in italics, because he was a firefighter, and if you've ever been around a fire, you know they can be HELL on the lungs. That's not the kinda thing you want to say in room full of 100 grieving firefighters. Maybe it was on everyone's mind, it was certainly on mine.
Having a close family member die in a hospital really highlights the raging clusterfucks you are likely to encounter in the American medical system. It's comforting knowing that we are almost in the top 10 for global medical care, but actually talking to doctors can quickly blow out that optimism.
...for example...
8am - kidney doctor: 'Everything looks great, we should be able to pull the breathing tube and bring him out of sedation by the end of the week.
9:30am - random technician: 'He was up and down through the night, but is doing much better this morning. I am a little worried about his decreasing kidney function.'
10:00am - ER doctor: 'His breathing hasn't really improved in weeks. It is time we consider leaving him sedated, and pulling out the breathing tube, and letting him pass naturally.'
12:00pm - another ER doctor: 'His temperature and heart rate have been looking much better, and his oxygen levels show some improvement. We're hopeful we can turn down his oxygen soon, with the goal of removing the breathing tube.
12:30pm - random technician: 'So sorry for your loss.'
1:00pm - doctor we've never seen before: 'He is not getting better. This is not good. You should talk with his doctor about removing the breathing tube.'
4:00pm - ER doctor: 'He had a pretty good day today, not much improvement, but not any worse. Will we be seeing you all again tomorrow?'
I mean, what the fuck is a person supposed to conclude from those conversations? My conclusion was the doctors at the best hospital in South Carolina weren't any smarter or more prepared than the doctors at his home in South Nowhere, or the doctors up here in East Bumfuck, for that matter. A medical degree from MUSC does not impress me at this point.
Of course, it's probably natural to feel a little grudge towards the people who didn't save your loved one. Even more natural if they actively kill your loved one. I don't think that happened in this case, but the local hospital back home had a bad habit of 'mixing up medications' for their elderly patients. I know a half dozen people who lost their grandparents to an 'accident' with pills while under hospital care. It is possible that those were all cases of some compassionate euthanasia, which is very illegal in this state. I personally support the right of a person to end their own life, but I think you should discuss it with your family first.
Of the three of us (myself and my two brothers), Chad (the one we lost) was the biggest and healthiest. He was a former Marine, and I know Marines who are reading this will say out loud 'There's NO SUCH THING as an EX Marine!' Well, when my brother heard that, he was happy to tell you 'You're looking at one.' At roughly 6'6" and about 260lbs. of muscle, very few people disagreed with him on that, or any other statement that might get emotions a little high. This was always funny to us, because of the three of us, Chad was definitely NOT the fighter. He had much better control of his temper, didn't drink or do drugs, and spent all his time on the appropriate side of the law, so fights just didn't really find their way to him. Our youngest brother is a drinker who has been jailed for assault. I spent years of high school in anger management, which actually worked, so I've only been jailed for failing to pay all my state licensing fees, but I still have a reputation as a bit of a hot-head.
I'm naturally suspicious of the American military, and it's well known that they do all sorts of pharmaceutical testing on the cannon fodder. I'm not saying that the Marines gave my brother pills that ultimately complicated the infection and led to his death, that would be unpatriotic. I'm just saying it might have happened.
He wasn't a self-righteous guy, even though he would give me and my brother shit about our drinking, and cigarettes (which I quit years ago), and my weed, and other drugs. Any time we were feeling under the weather, or pulled a muscle, or got winded playing paintball, you might hear 'You gotta quit that (insert vice here)!'
Well, we all had covid, but he's the one that died so... who's laughing now?
None of us, of course. None of us are laughing. Neither are you, most likely.
Is this too harsh? Should I have put in a disclaimer paragraph at the top? Too bad. Nobody is making you read this. I'm not even writing this for you, this post is 100% for ME. I can't say this kind of stuff to my family. I could say it to my friends, but I haven't really had a lot of time for them, scattered across the country as they are. I certainly can say it to all of you, and you can choose whether or not you want to hear it.
If you're still listening, then thank you. You sadist. What, do you revel in other people's pain? Then you're in luck, let's twist the knife a little.
It should have been me. People say that a lot, but most of them just mean that they wish they were dead so they wouldn't have to deal with their grief. I mean, I have no biological children, and all my step-children are grown. I don't really do anything to improve the community, or my family, or even my circle of friends. The goal of my life has simply been to not be a burden on others. I'm super good at that, but it's not actively helpful. Chad was the helpful brother. He really wanted to improve the lives of other people. He also left behind a couple young teenage children. That's what I'm most mad about. (I move towards anger much faster than sadness or sorrow, but I've been working on it). My brother probably didn't deserve to die (he was an active Marine for 9 years, I don't know what he might have done) but his kids DEFINITELY didn't deserve to lose their father. His community didn't deserve to lose a Fire Marshall who would spend his own time and money to help you be in compliance with the fire code rather than fine you and close your business. My family didn't deserve to lose someone who would actually answer the phone when you called. People would miss me, but deep down they know I've led a very full life and wouldn't leave behind any 'loose ends'. Losing my brother is an actual loss.
A lot about his death seemed 'unjust', which makes it hard to be surrounded by family who believe in a just and merciful god. I don't really believe in that. I mean, I believe that one may exist, but s/he is definitely not paying much attention to life and death on earth. I say if you want to know what god is really like, just look at people, who He created in His image. People are many things, including just and merciful, but most often, selfish and violent will be higher up the list.
I feel a little better already, thanks! 1300 words might not seem like a whole lot to be holding in for just a month, but it's felt like 13000 tons on my mood. There are some other things to say, I'm not done yet. I just needed to take a breath, and say thanks!
A lot of us back home in NY wondered why Chad chose to stay in SC after he left the Marines. After spending some time with his family down there, maybe some people still wonder, but I understand. He didn't stay for the oppressive heat, life threatening insects, and grocery stores that only sell type 2 diabetes. He stayed because he found a family down there that is the ideal version of his family up here. If you took the alcohol, crime, and irreverence out of us, you would have them. Also, he always loved the southern accent. We spent 6 months living in Kansas City in our youth, and he continued saying y'all for the rest of his life.
He was a volunteer firefighter up here before he joined the Marines. Even when he was too young to be a firefighter, he still volunteered. Around here, though, the firefighters are all volunteers, most of them are alcoholics, and several of them are criminals. At the home he chose, he found not one, but TWO fire fighting families full of professoinals, who take their jobs and lives seriously, but not too seriously. Most of them even seem to manage it sober.
Honestly, I thought about moving down there myself. Being surrounded by drunks can be... tiring is the euphemism I'll use. I thought about it, then I saw a cockroach the size of a house cat, and decided I've put too much work into my home to move. It would be nice to be surrounded by sober people who only call after 9pm if it's an EMERGENCY, and I wouldn't mind some 70° days in December, but I don't like mosquitos that will take more blood than the people at the blood drive. I might find a cheap place to winter down there though, and get a SC license. It would be nice to be able to buy and sell guns and Hive.
The worst part, for me, about losing my little brother is the extra attention I now feel obligated to pay to my surviving family. I don't really relate to any of them well enough to empathize with how they feel, so I'm alright when they just need someone to lean on, but I'm no good at all when they want to talk things out. It doesn't leave me a lot of time to deal with my own mental health, which is why it's taken so long for me to get around to posting about it. THIS is a big part of my grieving process, and I'm sure you can imagine that family doesn't want to hear any of it.
It's strange the way you feel the loss of someone you haven't really seen in the last 20 years. It's not like I'll really miss him, because I hardly ever saw him or talked to him anyway. Still, it's a loss, and something is... missing. I think it's our moral anchor. Maybe it's just my easy in for an American Legion membership. I'll figure it out.