So I learned last night while walking down the pathway to my place that the Internet has now been rerouted. This time there is a pass code though. Which is good, I agree, for safety reasons, etc. etc. (Because I really would hate to think people were trying to steal all the porn on my hard drive.)
I didn't, however, get the passcode just yet. I didn't get home until around 10 pm or later, having spent the night eating dinner at my parents' house and catching up with my siblings that I don't get to see much of anymore. It's weird how going back, you realize how fast your siblings are growing, and how their internal worlds are spinning just as fast as yours is.
My sister is on her way to being the next "musical prodigy" (aka J's little brother). I went home last night to find her tapping away at piano keys, all self-taught. Hammering out tunes such as "Over My Head" by the Fray, "It Ends Tonight" by All-American Rejects and "Apologize" by OneRepublic. It amazes me how fast she is growing, and I can't get over how much of a teenager she is starting to look(she turns 13 in February). Sorta freaks me out and stings a little. I guess because I have that big sister complex, wanting them to stay little forever. I am so proud of who she is becoming though, and love her deeply.
My little brother is also hitting a milestone age this year, the big 1-8. I don't have anything bad to say. He's become everything that anyone could've ever asked for and more. I love him to death, and he is an amazing spark in my life, and one of my closest confidants. We grew up together, only 5 years apart, but I still see him as my baby brother. I told him I'd take him wherever he wanted to go this year. Now that I have my car, we can wreck havoc across the city together in celebration of his birthday. He deserves a little fun with everything he's been through.
So now that the internet is back up, you all will get an overload of posts with pictures that have been long overdue. Something to take up my time in my free moments over the weekend (ha, ha, ha)
Showing posts with label brother. Show all posts
Showing posts with label brother. Show all posts
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Monday, September 24, 2007
My Near (almost, not really) Brush with Death
This past weekend was the return of Buzz @ Glow. Of course, we all went. By we I mean: J, me, 'Nard, unni, & Gen Gen. Missing in action? Paul & Est unni. Why? The near brush with death.
The weekend before had been my crazy one and not only was it extremely emotional, but it was also Tiesto Live @ Love...outside. I decided against that due to the extreme cold, and opted for the nice, inside, cozy atmosphere with George Acosta @ Ibiza.
But not before driving by Love to say hello to my brother and Est unni. This is where this all began. She gave me hugs and kisses, as usual and then I went on my way to Ibiza.
Skip to this weekend. Est unni and Paul are all ready to go for Return of Buzz. Everyone is. A day before the event, I feel there is something terribly wrong - Paul hasn't called me back. My brother always calls me back. My clairvoyancy is kicking into high gear and I fear... well I fear something bad is happening.
Paul finally calls me later on and says that Est is sick, but it's probably just a cold and they'll see me for Buzz the next night.
Uhh, yeah. In so few short moments, we see Est, we see Paul, and then Est collapses with chills, Paul thinks she's faking, then Est is rushed to the hospital, and the doctors immediately suspect that it's ("dun dun DUN") meningitis.
They run tests on her, and then to be safe, and for good measure, they toss her butt in the ICU. Guess who's laughing now, my brother? He literally felt TERRIBLE for just prior telling her she was faking it (but in my brother's defense, Esther unni has always sorta... dramatized things before for attention. But only in a cutsey way.)
What do our dumbasses do? We still go out. Party. I mean we bought the nearly $30 tickets ahead of time. Why shouldn't we? And it was not just us - we brought other friends.
The place was packed and it was noisy. Exceptionally noisy. So noisy that even though the music was good, J and I kept looking at each other with the same uncomfortable glance because a massive amount of people were all around us - it reminded me of that time in New York with Gen.
So we left ...called to see how Esther unni was, and she had worsened. They hooked her up to IVs and morphine due to the amount of pain. Paul said that the doctors said that we should all be worried about possibly catching it if we had been in contact with her. Oh, great.
We got home really, super late. I was exhausted. Exhausted from worrying about my sister, and exhausted from all those damned people. J & I collapsed on the bed and passed out for several hours.
When I woke up, I had a fever, my throat was raspy and my nose was stuffy. I started freaking out. Big time. J said maybe it was because I was dehydrated, and to keep drinking fluids and to make sure I ate something.
I ate like a fat kid loves cake...and more. And drank Deer Park like it was going out of style. I kept overheating really fast though. So I ended up forcing myself to sleep all day with no covers, and trying to relax, and think happy thoughts like "no meningitis for me, no meningitis here!"
Paul called me late Saturday and asked if I was okay. I told him my symptoms and he said that I shouldn't worry. But if I do think I have it - to go to the doctor or a clinic and get those two day antibiotics or whatever.
So far, I just have a headache today, and a slight stuffy nose. I know, technically I shouldn't be at work if I think I have it - but I am at this point where I really don't think I do. I read on the internet that the best way to catch it would be through transfer of bodily fluids - and Esther unni and I didn't do any of that. Plus, I think that chills is a big thing that comes with it and I haven't had any chills yet.
So this is Monday. Let's hope for a quick and painless week. BTW, this Dritho-scalp has sorta been working...little pieces of hair growth here and there. We'll see though. My fingers are definitely crossed.
PS. Omgosh, Goose. I've gone through "Dying", "Light of the Moon" and "Cartwheels" and I love them all. Every single song. Some I already had - but most I didn't. I have connected on so many deeper levels to every single lyric in each song. Thank you so much.
The weekend before had been my crazy one and not only was it extremely emotional, but it was also Tiesto Live @ Love...outside. I decided against that due to the extreme cold, and opted for the nice, inside, cozy atmosphere with George Acosta @ Ibiza.
But not before driving by Love to say hello to my brother and Est unni. This is where this all began. She gave me hugs and kisses, as usual and then I went on my way to Ibiza.
Skip to this weekend. Est unni and Paul are all ready to go for Return of Buzz. Everyone is. A day before the event, I feel there is something terribly wrong - Paul hasn't called me back. My brother always calls me back. My clairvoyancy is kicking into high gear and I fear... well I fear something bad is happening.
Paul finally calls me later on and says that Est is sick, but it's probably just a cold and they'll see me for Buzz the next night.
Uhh, yeah. In so few short moments, we see Est, we see Paul, and then Est collapses with chills, Paul thinks she's faking, then Est is rushed to the hospital, and the doctors immediately suspect that it's ("dun dun DUN") meningitis.
They run tests on her, and then to be safe, and for good measure, they toss her butt in the ICU. Guess who's laughing now, my brother? He literally felt TERRIBLE for just prior telling her she was faking it (but in my brother's defense, Esther unni has always sorta... dramatized things before for attention. But only in a cutsey way.)
What do our dumbasses do? We still go out. Party. I mean we bought the nearly $30 tickets ahead of time. Why shouldn't we? And it was not just us - we brought other friends.
The place was packed and it was noisy. Exceptionally noisy. So noisy that even though the music was good, J and I kept looking at each other with the same uncomfortable glance because a massive amount of people were all around us - it reminded me of that time in New York with Gen.
So we left ...called to see how Esther unni was, and she had worsened. They hooked her up to IVs and morphine due to the amount of pain. Paul said that the doctors said that we should all be worried about possibly catching it if we had been in contact with her. Oh, great.
We got home really, super late. I was exhausted. Exhausted from worrying about my sister, and exhausted from all those damned people. J & I collapsed on the bed and passed out for several hours.
When I woke up, I had a fever, my throat was raspy and my nose was stuffy. I started freaking out. Big time. J said maybe it was because I was dehydrated, and to keep drinking fluids and to make sure I ate something.
I ate like a fat kid loves cake...and more. And drank Deer Park like it was going out of style. I kept overheating really fast though. So I ended up forcing myself to sleep all day with no covers, and trying to relax, and think happy thoughts like "no meningitis for me, no meningitis here!"
Paul called me late Saturday and asked if I was okay. I told him my symptoms and he said that I shouldn't worry. But if I do think I have it - to go to the doctor or a clinic and get those two day antibiotics or whatever.
So far, I just have a headache today, and a slight stuffy nose. I know, technically I shouldn't be at work if I think I have it - but I am at this point where I really don't think I do. I read on the internet that the best way to catch it would be through transfer of bodily fluids - and Esther unni and I didn't do any of that. Plus, I think that chills is a big thing that comes with it and I haven't had any chills yet.
So this is Monday. Let's hope for a quick and painless week. BTW, this Dritho-scalp has sorta been working...little pieces of hair growth here and there. We'll see though. My fingers are definitely crossed.
PS. Omgosh, Goose. I've gone through "Dying", "Light of the Moon" and "Cartwheels" and I love them all. Every single song. Some I already had - but most I didn't. I have connected on so many deeper levels to every single lyric in each song. Thank you so much.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Something Happy to Replace the Rant
Okay, so I just realized that I rant a lot on this blog. Not all bad things happen.
Let's start with the fact that in the middle of the week, Paul oppa called me to just say hello. I asked him how his back was (the last time I had seen him was two weekends prior where he had coughed too hard and created blood clots in the side of his back. Hmph! I told him that he should stop smoking!). He said that his back was much better since he had gone to see the acupuncturist. He swears by those Asian doctors and always is telling me how Western medicine is crazy, and he doesn't trust it as much as he trusts Asian doctors. In a way, I cannot help to giggle whenever he mentions this because he reminds me of how ahjushi he is getting, despite his pleas that he is "super-Americanized".
He could tell something was wrong, and asked if I was feeling alright. He said my voice sounded sad. I told him what has been happening at work, and that I just came from vacation and felt sad that it was over. He asked me if I had called my sister, Yuri to see what she was doing this weekend, especially since Kuya 'Nard (now her boyfriend, hehehe) was away on business and D, L, & S were out in Miami. I told him that I hadn't talked to her since the last weekend when Nard, Yuri-unni and Paul oppa and his girlfriend (my future sister-in-law, Esther-unni) went to Ibiza and FIVE.
Five was craziness. I ran into so many people that I knew and Ibiza - AH!! All those lights! It was a blast.
Well anyway, Paul oppa said he would have to make some phone calls and he would call me back later that evening. Sure enough, while I was in class, Paul oppa called me and then text me and asked me if I would like to come and visit him and my sister this weekend and just hang out.
I said, of course I would.
Thursday night came and Gen gave me a call to tell me about Christian's dad. I was so sad to hear the news and I immediately called Christian to give my condolences. Gen and I talked for a little bit about his new puppy, DJ Elvis, and where everyone was.
The next night, I went to go check out this new apt with my crazy Aunt and my mom, but the rent was higher than what I am paying now, and it would need a lot of work so I passed.
I had this urge to go out and eat dinner, just to hang out with someone, and relax since it was a Friday night and I was still stressed over work. So I called Gen and we went out to Austin's Grill to have dinner and he brought DJ Elvis.
That beagle is soooo cute!!! I couldn't stop holding him, and kissing him. The dog is so cuddly and docile too. The kind that will just let you cradle him like a baby, and won't try to wriggle away. Gen said he likes Elvis because he's a chick-magnet. Heh, heh.
We ran into our friends Jesse, Alexis and Guy there. It was nice to see people I hadn't seen in a while. Although Gen and I noticed that must have been our sixth time in two months going and eating at Austin's Grill. We eat there all the time it seems like.
Afterwards, Gen drove me home, and the next morning I was on the train to Union Station. Because I am cheap, I caught the 7 AM train for $14.00 and landed in DC around 8. I decided to let Paul oppa sleep so I didn't call him until 10 AM and lied and told him I had just arrived just so he wouldn't worry about me.
He picked me up and we went to go get breakfast. A Korean seafood stew with rice, and broiled kimchi covered mackeral. Yum.
Then we went to go get some Starbucks and ran into Yuri unni there, who surprise, surprise - was talking on the phone with Nard.
We headed over to Su unni's house to keep her company and then she bailed on us and ran out to go on some errands. When she came back she had three pairs of Dolce & Gabana jeans...she said she paid $300 bucks for each...omgosh! They were the most adorable jeans I had ever seen. While she was gone, Paul oppa and I raided her kitchen, and started watching Korean TV. He was explaining to me some of the words I didn't understand, and then we got online and started messing around with YouTube. We are both so addicted to YouTube, it's not even funny.
We finally left Su unni's house once she got home to go grab some dinner. Again, Korean seafood stew with rice and broiled mackeral.
Then we headed over to Yuri unni's house. I love visiting my sister. We always have a ton of fun together, and since I have met her, and she's been hanging out with Nard more -her English or her confidence in her English has gotten so much better. We are able to have full conversations mixing Korean and English. We always watch Korean dramas or the Food network. Then we have fun getting ready to go to the club together. It's so awesome because she has become the older sister that I always wanted. Sharing clothes, shoes, make up tips. Sounds silly, but I never truly had a family like that.
Once we got to Ibiza, I don't know what is was but Gabriel & Dresden rocked. I danced my heart out. It felt so good to just let it all go, and I just let my feet fly. Towards the end of the night, I had so many people come up and compliment me on my dance skills - I was shocked! I guess because I have always been self conscious of what I look like when I dance because of my limp on my right foot - and I know that my dance moves don't look like I would want them to. But it felt good to be complimented so many times.
Alright, that's enough of that. Time for my ass to go to bed. Just needed to end on a happy note.
Let's start with the fact that in the middle of the week, Paul oppa called me to just say hello. I asked him how his back was (the last time I had seen him was two weekends prior where he had coughed too hard and created blood clots in the side of his back. Hmph! I told him that he should stop smoking!). He said that his back was much better since he had gone to see the acupuncturist. He swears by those Asian doctors and always is telling me how Western medicine is crazy, and he doesn't trust it as much as he trusts Asian doctors. In a way, I cannot help to giggle whenever he mentions this because he reminds me of how ahjushi he is getting, despite his pleas that he is "super-Americanized".
He could tell something was wrong, and asked if I was feeling alright. He said my voice sounded sad. I told him what has been happening at work, and that I just came from vacation and felt sad that it was over. He asked me if I had called my sister, Yuri to see what she was doing this weekend, especially since Kuya 'Nard (now her boyfriend, hehehe) was away on business and D, L, & S were out in Miami. I told him that I hadn't talked to her since the last weekend when Nard, Yuri-unni and Paul oppa and his girlfriend (my future sister-in-law, Esther-unni) went to Ibiza and FIVE.
Five was craziness. I ran into so many people that I knew and Ibiza - AH!! All those lights! It was a blast.
Well anyway, Paul oppa said he would have to make some phone calls and he would call me back later that evening. Sure enough, while I was in class, Paul oppa called me and then text me and asked me if I would like to come and visit him and my sister this weekend and just hang out.
I said, of course I would.
Thursday night came and Gen gave me a call to tell me about Christian's dad. I was so sad to hear the news and I immediately called Christian to give my condolences. Gen and I talked for a little bit about his new puppy, DJ Elvis, and where everyone was.
The next night, I went to go check out this new apt with my crazy Aunt and my mom, but the rent was higher than what I am paying now, and it would need a lot of work so I passed.
I had this urge to go out and eat dinner, just to hang out with someone, and relax since it was a Friday night and I was still stressed over work. So I called Gen and we went out to Austin's Grill to have dinner and he brought DJ Elvis.
That beagle is soooo cute!!! I couldn't stop holding him, and kissing him. The dog is so cuddly and docile too. The kind that will just let you cradle him like a baby, and won't try to wriggle away. Gen said he likes Elvis because he's a chick-magnet. Heh, heh.
We ran into our friends Jesse, Alexis and Guy there. It was nice to see people I hadn't seen in a while. Although Gen and I noticed that must have been our sixth time in two months going and eating at Austin's Grill. We eat there all the time it seems like.
Afterwards, Gen drove me home, and the next morning I was on the train to Union Station. Because I am cheap, I caught the 7 AM train for $14.00 and landed in DC around 8. I decided to let Paul oppa sleep so I didn't call him until 10 AM and lied and told him I had just arrived just so he wouldn't worry about me.
He picked me up and we went to go get breakfast. A Korean seafood stew with rice, and broiled kimchi covered mackeral. Yum.
Then we went to go get some Starbucks and ran into Yuri unni there, who surprise, surprise - was talking on the phone with Nard.
We headed over to Su unni's house to keep her company and then she bailed on us and ran out to go on some errands. When she came back she had three pairs of Dolce & Gabana jeans...she said she paid $300 bucks for each...omgosh! They were the most adorable jeans I had ever seen. While she was gone, Paul oppa and I raided her kitchen, and started watching Korean TV. He was explaining to me some of the words I didn't understand, and then we got online and started messing around with YouTube. We are both so addicted to YouTube, it's not even funny.
We finally left Su unni's house once she got home to go grab some dinner. Again, Korean seafood stew with rice and broiled mackeral.
Then we headed over to Yuri unni's house. I love visiting my sister. We always have a ton of fun together, and since I have met her, and she's been hanging out with Nard more -her English or her confidence in her English has gotten so much better. We are able to have full conversations mixing Korean and English. We always watch Korean dramas or the Food network. Then we have fun getting ready to go to the club together. It's so awesome because she has become the older sister that I always wanted. Sharing clothes, shoes, make up tips. Sounds silly, but I never truly had a family like that.
Once we got to Ibiza, I don't know what is was but Gabriel & Dresden rocked. I danced my heart out. It felt so good to just let it all go, and I just let my feet fly. Towards the end of the night, I had so many people come up and compliment me on my dance skills - I was shocked! I guess because I have always been self conscious of what I look like when I dance because of my limp on my right foot - and I know that my dance moves don't look like I would want them to. But it felt good to be complimented so many times.
Alright, that's enough of that. Time for my ass to go to bed. Just needed to end on a happy note.
Friday, June 1, 2007
Forgetfulness
I know my co-worker is irritated with me. (On just a hunch, I could alone base it on the long pause and eyeroll that he gave me as he walked past my cubicle after hearing the answer to his question.) This is the fifth day in a row that I have forgotten to bring my Notary Public certificate in so that he can make a copy and send it to the supply company to purchase a Notary stamp with my information on it.
But I just haven't been able to think straight all this week. It has been terribly difficult to get any sort of answers about my brother's condition from my parents: 1. Because one parent is absolutely clueless to what is going on with anything involving the kids. 2. The other parent that should know what's going on in detail has decided that it was much better to just...forget.
When I physically left my parents' house eight or nine months ago, it wasn't the first time I had left it. Mentally, I had already left my concerns at the doorstep a year or two prior. Or at least tried to.
I remember that day I went to go pick up my belongings that had been crudely shoved into trashbags with my friend, Trish. I remember watching her as she pulled my baby brother's arms that were trying to reach out for me. I can even more clearly remember the look of despair and sadness in my baby brother's eyes as he was crying for me, watching as my mother threw bag after bag at me as I walked through the front door.
When I got into the car, and Trish began to speed off, I just started sobbing uncontrollably. I knew that memory would stick in my brother's mind forever, and I immediately began to worry immensely over my siblings, and their safety while living in that house.
Things have gotten better over time. (Therapy for my mother, medication for my father.) But all of a sudden, this past Sunday, that same worry and fear for a sibling's care and safety rushed back in.
When I first found out about my brother's white blood cell count, I was freaked out. I sat at work with a blank expression and constant tearing in my eyes.
So quite obviously, on Sunday, when I went to visit my parents and siblings, I had dozens upon dozens of questions that were roaming through my mind. What was this disease? Why did they think it was transfused through the blood? Wasn't the last time he had a blood transfusion months ago? Wouldn't this issue have shown itself sooner if it was passed through a blood transfusion? What did all of this mean for Adam's health? When were they going to get more tests done?
"I don't know," my mother replied, simply - with hardly any expression.
"I don't understand. You talked to the doctor, didn't you? The one who read his first blood test results? How can you say 'you don't know'?"
"Yes, of course I talked to the doctor. And yes, he did say his white blood count is lower than it should be. Much lower. Said it was very serious."
"Well then, what does Adam have? Is it treatable?"
"I don't know. You're asking me too many questions," my mother paused a second and then looked at me, "Okay, so I forgot. The doctor told me what it was, and I forgot. But it's not like it's that huge of a deal, they are going to be doing more tests on him in the upcoming weeks because they think he also might need surgery again soon. He's been having pains in his head and his back again."
[Wait, back up. Did she just say she forgot?]
I dropped the discussion. More out of being horrified and stunned than anything else. How can you forget your son's diagnosis? How can you act so nonchalant? Okay, okay, EJ, calm down. Don't over think. Don't overstress. I can't help but be pissed thinking about this situation.
It's been a week now - they tested Ads for Epstein Bar, Mono, and a bunch of other things. Last thing I heard from my Dad was that Ads tested positive for a very slight and mild case of Mono. They aren't sure whether that's why his white blood cell count is low or not. He tested positive for one other test, the one that they used to diagnose him with, but my mother can't seem to remember.
Whatever it is, I am sure it doesn't help that all these surgeries (the opening and exposure of his spinal cord and nerves) keep exposing his body to possible infections and such.
But I just haven't been able to think straight all this week. It has been terribly difficult to get any sort of answers about my brother's condition from my parents: 1. Because one parent is absolutely clueless to what is going on with anything involving the kids. 2. The other parent that should know what's going on in detail has decided that it was much better to just...forget.
When I physically left my parents' house eight or nine months ago, it wasn't the first time I had left it. Mentally, I had already left my concerns at the doorstep a year or two prior. Or at least tried to.
I remember that day I went to go pick up my belongings that had been crudely shoved into trashbags with my friend, Trish. I remember watching her as she pulled my baby brother's arms that were trying to reach out for me. I can even more clearly remember the look of despair and sadness in my baby brother's eyes as he was crying for me, watching as my mother threw bag after bag at me as I walked through the front door.
When I got into the car, and Trish began to speed off, I just started sobbing uncontrollably. I knew that memory would stick in my brother's mind forever, and I immediately began to worry immensely over my siblings, and their safety while living in that house.
Things have gotten better over time. (Therapy for my mother, medication for my father.) But all of a sudden, this past Sunday, that same worry and fear for a sibling's care and safety rushed back in.
When I first found out about my brother's white blood cell count, I was freaked out. I sat at work with a blank expression and constant tearing in my eyes.
So quite obviously, on Sunday, when I went to visit my parents and siblings, I had dozens upon dozens of questions that were roaming through my mind. What was this disease? Why did they think it was transfused through the blood? Wasn't the last time he had a blood transfusion months ago? Wouldn't this issue have shown itself sooner if it was passed through a blood transfusion? What did all of this mean for Adam's health? When were they going to get more tests done?
"I don't know," my mother replied, simply - with hardly any expression.
"I don't understand. You talked to the doctor, didn't you? The one who read his first blood test results? How can you say 'you don't know'?"
"Yes, of course I talked to the doctor. And yes, he did say his white blood count is lower than it should be. Much lower. Said it was very serious."
"Well then, what does Adam have? Is it treatable?"
"I don't know. You're asking me too many questions," my mother paused a second and then looked at me, "Okay, so I forgot. The doctor told me what it was, and I forgot. But it's not like it's that huge of a deal, they are going to be doing more tests on him in the upcoming weeks because they think he also might need surgery again soon. He's been having pains in his head and his back again."
[Wait, back up. Did she just say she forgot?]
I dropped the discussion. More out of being horrified and stunned than anything else. How can you forget your son's diagnosis? How can you act so nonchalant? Okay, okay, EJ, calm down. Don't over think. Don't overstress. I can't help but be pissed thinking about this situation.
It's been a week now - they tested Ads for Epstein Bar, Mono, and a bunch of other things. Last thing I heard from my Dad was that Ads tested positive for a very slight and mild case of Mono. They aren't sure whether that's why his white blood cell count is low or not. He tested positive for one other test, the one that they used to diagnose him with, but my mother can't seem to remember.
Whatever it is, I am sure it doesn't help that all these surgeries (the opening and exposure of his spinal cord and nerves) keep exposing his body to possible infections and such.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Red Parachute
Ads and I used to have this red parachute when we were little. We would play for hours: crawling underneath it as the other would make waves to pretend we were swimming through crimson red ocean waves, laying across our Little Tykes chairs to create a dirt tunnel where we were mining for gold, wrapping each other tight to become ancient Egyptian mummies surrounded by treasures. But my favorite memory of the red parachute was when we would use it as a magic bedsheet.
Certain nights when either the thunder would be roaring outside our bedroom windows or an extra frightening nightmare had awaken my little brother from his slumber, I would crawl into my brother's bed beside him and place the red parachute over his big comforter.
Together his bed would become a jeep, riding through the bumpy dirt roads of Africa on a wild safari or a spaceship taking us up into orbit around the moon. There would be dark cold nights where the room was pitch black, the moon's glow hidden behind dark clouds.
These were the nights where we would grip our red parachute's edges together, and curl underneath the layers of sheets, knowing that no matter what - be it tiger, comets, or hungry wolves in the forest - attacking us the red parachute would protect us both.
Now, 15 years later, I wish I had that magic red parachute back. I wish that I could wrap my baby brother in the red parachute to ward away the disease that is infesting his blood stream. I have this sudden urge to run home to my parent's house, and climb into my brother's bed next to him and wrap my arms around him. I would give anything to take away his pain. I would give anything to be able to give him my white blood cells. To give him my good health.
I would give anything to become his red parachute.
Certain nights when either the thunder would be roaring outside our bedroom windows or an extra frightening nightmare had awaken my little brother from his slumber, I would crawl into my brother's bed beside him and place the red parachute over his big comforter.
Together his bed would become a jeep, riding through the bumpy dirt roads of Africa on a wild safari or a spaceship taking us up into orbit around the moon. There would be dark cold nights where the room was pitch black, the moon's glow hidden behind dark clouds.
These were the nights where we would grip our red parachute's edges together, and curl underneath the layers of sheets, knowing that no matter what - be it tiger, comets, or hungry wolves in the forest - attacking us the red parachute would protect us both.
Now, 15 years later, I wish I had that magic red parachute back. I wish that I could wrap my baby brother in the red parachute to ward away the disease that is infesting his blood stream. I have this sudden urge to run home to my parent's house, and climb into my brother's bed next to him and wrap my arms around him. I would give anything to take away his pain. I would give anything to be able to give him my white blood cells. To give him my good health.
I would give anything to become his red parachute.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Trips Down Memory Lane...
My little brother turned 17 this past Sunday. Being the sentimental junkie that I am, it got me reminiscing about our childhood together and I got this urge to dig through what little "nostalgia" belongings I had salvaged in the move to Dundalk.
I found all sorts of random pictures - they were always just pictures of just me and Ads. For a while there, it was just me and him - our older brother being ten years my senior and fifteen years his - we hardly ever saw him but for brief moments at the end of the day or on weekends.
Ads and I are kindred spirits. From the very day that I saw his picture in the package that my parents brought home from the adoption agency, I knew that that was to be my new baby brother. I just had a feeling.
That feeling transpired all throughout the waiting process. And then finally, on that fateful night at BWI, my baby brother arrived.
There had been a lot of commotion about Ads' arrival. (A precursor for the amount of attention that my brother would eventually draw to himself and all the underlining political issues that he stood for at a very young age.) I was six at the time of his arrival, and although I don't remember the exact details, I remember that the flight for my brother was being delayed for government reasons - some sort of mix-up or delay in processing his adoption paperwork. And although normally it would be a minor technicality that the flight would be delayed - this time it was much more urgent. Ads had been diagnosed by the medical doctors with acute hydrocelphalus. Somehow or other it had missed the attentions of the Korean doctors at the orphanage, they had said. Anyone who knows the story of an adoptee knows better. Regardless of how it went undetected, it did, and the water pressure on my baby brother's brain had worsened. No matter what - his flight could not get delayed tonight, otherwise he might not live.
It was suggested that my parents call some superintendant or delegate in our district. And so they did.
At the age of 13 months - my little brother got his first stint on television. He was the top story in the 6 o' clock local news report on WJZ 13.
The delegate that my parents had called was inspired by my little brother - and soon pulled the necessary strings to insure his arrival into BWI. The wait was excrutiating for everyone, and for me, at age six, it was more nerve-racking than anything. I was wearing my very best purple dress with the frilly lace (Thanks to the 80's dressmakers of children's clothes) and my black patent shoes.
Person after person passed through the door of the airport gate - but none of them were Adam. The anticipation was overwhelming, and became increasingly so as the cameras kept rolling and the bright light from the video camera and production crew was making everyone sweat.
After at least 100 or so people walked through, all of a sudden there were none. I remember hearing the cameraman whisper behind his lens, "Maybe the kid never came after all."
Even at my young age, I felt my heart stop and I just held my breath. Everyone squinted their eyes, peering down the long gate way to see if there was a view of any other life form coming off that plane. There had to be. There just had to be.
And then finally, there appeared to be the movement of two wheels maneuvering along the metal gateway, and then two feet, legs...and the image of a tiny boy in a stroller, clinging onto his teething rattle and staring with wide-open eyes.
Adam was finally home.
Of course there were tears, and an embrace of his foster mother who had taken the journey with him, and then of him. Oh yes, hugs and kisses all over the place on this precious little kid.
But it was short lived. At the first sight of his head, my mother gasped, and started to cry out of fear. My brother's forehead was so enlarged from fluid that he was on the brink of explosion.
No sooner than we had greeted the new edition to our family did we have to rush him off to Johns Hopkins to have Dr. Carson place a shunt in his brain.
My little brother's first ten hours into the U.S., he was introduced to his new family, placed under heavy sedition and anesthetics and operated on for four hours. Welcome to the U.S.A.
But it was all for well and good. I have to say that if there is anyone I admire more out of my family, or anyone that I feel tremendously close to - it would be Ads. We are, after all, kindred spirits. No matter how many twists and turns I have made in my life, or mistakes I have fallen from - I know that my brother loves me. And I would give my life for him, in an instant.
So happy birthday, lil Bro! I love you so much. You have been a never-ending source of strength for me over the years whether you knew it or not.
I found all sorts of random pictures - they were always just pictures of just me and Ads. For a while there, it was just me and him - our older brother being ten years my senior and fifteen years his - we hardly ever saw him but for brief moments at the end of the day or on weekends.
Ads and I are kindred spirits. From the very day that I saw his picture in the package that my parents brought home from the adoption agency, I knew that that was to be my new baby brother. I just had a feeling.
That feeling transpired all throughout the waiting process. And then finally, on that fateful night at BWI, my baby brother arrived.
There had been a lot of commotion about Ads' arrival. (A precursor for the amount of attention that my brother would eventually draw to himself and all the underlining political issues that he stood for at a very young age.) I was six at the time of his arrival, and although I don't remember the exact details, I remember that the flight for my brother was being delayed for government reasons - some sort of mix-up or delay in processing his adoption paperwork. And although normally it would be a minor technicality that the flight would be delayed - this time it was much more urgent. Ads had been diagnosed by the medical doctors with acute hydrocelphalus. Somehow or other it had missed the attentions of the Korean doctors at the orphanage, they had said. Anyone who knows the story of an adoptee knows better. Regardless of how it went undetected, it did, and the water pressure on my baby brother's brain had worsened. No matter what - his flight could not get delayed tonight, otherwise he might not live.
It was suggested that my parents call some superintendant or delegate in our district. And so they did.
At the age of 13 months - my little brother got his first stint on television. He was the top story in the 6 o' clock local news report on WJZ 13.
The delegate that my parents had called was inspired by my little brother - and soon pulled the necessary strings to insure his arrival into BWI. The wait was excrutiating for everyone, and for me, at age six, it was more nerve-racking than anything. I was wearing my very best purple dress with the frilly lace (Thanks to the 80's dressmakers of children's clothes) and my black patent shoes.
Person after person passed through the door of the airport gate - but none of them were Adam. The anticipation was overwhelming, and became increasingly so as the cameras kept rolling and the bright light from the video camera and production crew was making everyone sweat.
After at least 100 or so people walked through, all of a sudden there were none. I remember hearing the cameraman whisper behind his lens, "Maybe the kid never came after all."
Even at my young age, I felt my heart stop and I just held my breath. Everyone squinted their eyes, peering down the long gate way to see if there was a view of any other life form coming off that plane. There had to be. There just had to be.
And then finally, there appeared to be the movement of two wheels maneuvering along the metal gateway, and then two feet, legs...and the image of a tiny boy in a stroller, clinging onto his teething rattle and staring with wide-open eyes.
Adam was finally home.
Of course there were tears, and an embrace of his foster mother who had taken the journey with him, and then of him. Oh yes, hugs and kisses all over the place on this precious little kid.
But it was short lived. At the first sight of his head, my mother gasped, and started to cry out of fear. My brother's forehead was so enlarged from fluid that he was on the brink of explosion.
No sooner than we had greeted the new edition to our family did we have to rush him off to Johns Hopkins to have Dr. Carson place a shunt in his brain.
My little brother's first ten hours into the U.S., he was introduced to his new family, placed under heavy sedition and anesthetics and operated on for four hours. Welcome to the U.S.A.
But it was all for well and good. I have to say that if there is anyone I admire more out of my family, or anyone that I feel tremendously close to - it would be Ads. We are, after all, kindred spirits. No matter how many twists and turns I have made in my life, or mistakes I have fallen from - I know that my brother loves me. And I would give my life for him, in an instant.
So happy birthday, lil Bro! I love you so much. You have been a never-ending source of strength for me over the years whether you knew it or not.
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