Tuesday, August 2, 2011

What I learned from my sister...

Without a doubt, there are those reading the headline and thinking -

"He learned something from his sister? Wow!"

But it is true - I have.

I know over the past few entries I have made mention of the 'Things I Know to be True' and this entry will be no different.  My personal experience in life has helped me draw the conclusion that there are those who will not change there ways until something really bad happens to them and forces them, because of no other option, to change the way the have acted or behaved.  Keep in mind I don't mean something to hurt them, but more a radical life changing event.  My sister is one of those people. 

Maybe by the time she discovers this entry and sees it her life will have taken a dramatically different turn for the better.   My sister though, is, at the time of this entry 24 years old - older than the person I am  currently dating I might add by 18 months - and her behavior could be described by some, as that of an early teenager.   To her friends, she is warm and inviting, full of spunk and personality.  A person who is loyal, full of compassion and would overextend herself to help a friend in need.  A striking departure for how her family would describe her.   Selfish, dishonest, conniving, hurtful, hateful, ungrateful and plain mean would be only the simplest words to attribute the behavior.  She is a constant victim, family members walk on eggshells as to not anger her.  When upset, she will immediately raise her voice if not scream at the other party and then leave the location of the dispute and not return home for hours if not a day or two.   She is the consummate victim, wants to be responsible to no one, especially her family/parents.   She is barely a member of our family and as sad as it is to say this - I know my sister very little. 

I have watched for well over a decade and wondered when she would grow out of this 'phase' but that 'phase' has morphed into a lifestyle.  In honesty there have been many times where I have viewed my immediate family as a unit of three people.  

When I first got sick and was an inpatient, and the subsequent times I relapsed and was either an inpatient or at home and unable to care for myself, she became a member of the family again.  But it was only for a fleeting moment it seems because as soon as I regained my health and/or strength she stepped out of my life and my family's lives again.   The summation of these few paragraphs would be:  The relationship between myself, my mother and father and that of my sister is strained to the point of near break.  

One of the luxuries of being sick is that it gives you a very unique outlook on life, it makes you respect every week, every day, every hour - every moment you have, because in truth, this moment could be my last.  It isn't a morbid statement at all, its a fact of life for everyone, and to me it was liberating and moreover, life changing.   I started to look at things with a new set of eyes, examine how I treated people and how I acted and was able to make a conscious choice to better myself.  I wasn't ever a complete and total dick to anyone, but I think it would be fair to say I had been selfish, opinionated and sometimes manipulative to try to get myself further in work, at school, in personal situations.  

What motivated this choice to change?

The long and short of it is - the very first night I was ever in the hospital, December 2, 2008 - my doctors told my mother I probably wouldn't make it through the night.   I had no idea this conversation had happened, and to be honest, had I known, I probably wouldn't have understood it fully anyway.   I didn't even arrive at Southview until probably 4:30 and I had only had my diagnosis a few hours before I was in the ICU.  I was scared, I was angry and I was embarrassed that I had let myself deteriorate while lying to myself and my family and closest friends.  The room I was in couldn't contain all the emotions I was feeling and the thoughts I was having.   I so desperately wanted to be alone that first night, alone with my thoughts, alone with my tears and alone with the unknown.  That wasn't quite what materialized for me though, my mom stayed with me the whole night sitting in a chair beside me, dozing off just occasionally.  Not knowing that she had been told the reality of my prognosis, I asked her to leave several times and after she told me she wasn't leaving, I opened up what I like to refer to as my expanded vocabulary selections and let it fly.  She was on the receiving end of some truly mean and hateful statements but - she stayed by my side.  I can honestly remember waking up in the middle of the night and remember glancing over at her, nodded off in the chair with the dried tears still marking her face, and still holding my hand.  She didn't let go until the next morning. 

It wasn't until several weeks later when everything came to light and she shared with me that Dr. Reid had told her he didn't think my lungs would support me through the night that it all made sense to me and when it did, it was a radical life changing event. 

My mother was staying with her son so he wouldn't die alone. 

It was a powerful message for me to digest and the lesson learned was a great one.  I quickly realized the severity of my situation and realized how fragile and what a gift my life and life in general is.  More importantly, I looked back over the first two weeks I spent in the hospital and l started to remember the instances where I was so overwhelmed that I became angry for no reason like the first night with my mom, or when I had the gaul to yell at Lauren for bringing me soup while I was at Grandview.  I realized that the pain I was in was a pittance compared to the people who were watching.  They too were hurt by my illness and now I was also hurting them and that wasn't fair.  Then the biggest realization of all occurred and the primary reason why I changed...

What if this moment were my very last moment and these were the very last words I ever spoke to someone?

Not only would I never have the opportunity to take back the mean words, but the people who I left behind would be left knowing the last conversation we ever had was one where I was angry, or yelling at them.  I don't know what exactly that would feel like, but I know I want the people I love to have only happy memories of me smiling or telling a filthy joke.  I couldn't knowingly do that to the people who cared about me so much, the people who stayed strong for me because I couldn't stay strong for myself.  In that 'ah ha moment' I realized there wasn't any reason to be angry or say hurtful and hateful things.  To live happily and gratefully could be one of the best gifts I could ever give myself and to those I love. 

So what does this have to do with my sister and what she has taught me. 

She taught me I made the right choice in choosing to live my best life.   I love my sister, and I write this entry not because I am mad at her, or because I think she is a bad person but because I know she is capable of change and will change.  There will be a day, and I know it is in the not to distant future where she will realize she has been unfair to the people who have loved and continue to love her the most.  She will see the err of her ways and she will be embarrassed by them but she will be at a new place in life where the mistakes of the past will not repeat themselves.  

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