Your eyes burn my skin
they pierce my eyes, my soul,
as they plead for help that I cannot give
Why did you have to end up here, once again?
On that bed, on that stretcher,
hooked up to fifty IV’s that do nothing but remind us all
that you are one in a million.
I take your hand, I squeeze it three times,
to tell you, in our secret language,
that I love you.
You squeeze back, even through those horrid bouts of
What else can I do?
I rub your head,
I draw on your back,
and I try, harder than I have ever in my whole life tried,
to keep my tears inside.
You don’t need to see me cry.
But I cannot take my eyes off of you.
You shake and you bawl and you beg for mercy;
you ask us all to cut off your legs,
to put you to sleep,
to have some sort of heart, and put you out of your misery,
but we are all selfish.
All we can do,
all I can do,
is stand beside you and watch your body attack itself.
You were lying on the stretcher,
as they prepared to transfer you to a better hospital,
and you were bawling harder than I had ever seen,
and crying out, in all of this pain,
and I stood beside you,
as my heart broke,
because I couldn’t save you,
I couldn’t help you,
I couldn’t fucking take the pain away from you,
you looked up at me,
with those teary, desperate eyes,
and even though there were no words,
I knew you were asking me to rescue you,
and you continued staring,
and I broke, completely, inside,
there was absolutely nothing I could do.
When they wheeled you off,
after dozens of IV injections that weren’t working,
I fell into my husband and lost it.
I will never see anything worse.
You had looked me to for help,
and I could only stand there,
smiling at you through my tears,
and telling you that you would make it through this.
What use was there to pray?
God had left us long ago.
Remember the ways we used to play?
The videos we would make together?
I couldn’t even listen to the cd that we made, in the car last night,
because it reminded me too much of the good times.
do you remember the nights we would stay up laughing?
Or the times we would cry on each others shoulders?
Yes, of course you remember.
Even though you are high on Ketamine,
the only medication that is taking your pain away,
as you stay in the tower close to my home,
your pain is finally being relieved.
Your nerves are dying,
but we are trying to keep you from suffering any more than you already have.
We watch you talk to yourself,
and type on things that are not really there,
and we all laugh.
Not because we are making fun,
and not because we think everything is better now,
seeing you like this is far better
than seeing you cry out in sheer terror.
Oh, my dear little sis,
I stand in awe of you.
There will never be another human being,
in my eyes,
that measures up to you.
I can only hope, that when you are released,
and perhaps read this,
You made it.
You may have to deal with this thing every few years for the rest of your life,
but you have made it, and you will make it again.
You will never be alone.
If anyone chooses this time to walk away, as much as that will fucking hurt,
that is their flaw, not yours.
You keep that head up, macho sissy,
there is absolutely nothing you have to be sorry for.
I cannot make the promise for anyone else,
I will always be here with you, to take this on,
and we will fight together, until the end.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
Now go, and live big.