I don't even know where to start. Though I've had time to consider events, my thoughts haven't exactly been productive on the matter. Too many what-ifs remain and too many worst-case scenarios may have only been narrowly averted. I suppose one always tends to look at the possible worst in these situations. I can't imagine the thought.
It should come as no surprise that I have had trouble sleeping lately. Between my knee, this weird reaction that never goes away, and the inevitable conflict between my night-owl ways and my desire to stay in contact with the regular daylight-shift world, my sleep patterns are irregular to say the least. Compounding this issue is the fact that I really don't need a schedule. I can come and go (or not) as I please. I've no where to be and no when to be there by.
So, I laid down to try and sleep a bit on Saturday afternoon. I had a headache, possibly from the changing weather, although I can get headaches from lack of sleep as well. I couldn't sleep so I just lay in bed trying to pretend to when my older Sister screamed. She screamed again, "Call 9-1-1!" My Dad yelled back that the phone downstairs wasn't working. I think in his panic, he didn't press some buttons or something. It didn't matter. I was out of bed and running downstairs with my phone. My youngest Sister was slumped in her chair, head back and gurgling.
I did not acquit myself well here. I was tired, not really coherent, panicking, under the influence of Tylenol PM, and shaky as all hell. "Weneedanambulancetocometomyhouse.MySisterishavingsomesortofseizureorsomething!" Those poor 9-1-1 operators.
It took a while to get my Sister out. She came to in a few minutes, but she wasn't herself. It was like she was a six-year old girl again. She wanted people to leave her alone. She fought. She screamed. The paramedics thought she was on drugs.
They screamed to the hospital as my Sister really started to come back, though the process would take several hours. Once there, they did tests as my Dad and older Sister waited by her side while I informed family members and shared what little information we had. She was the one in trouble, but I've never felt so helpless.
Now the waiting begins. When they sent her home from the hospital that night, they didn't know what was wrong. They gave her no medicine. She had no prescriptions. The scans were inconclusive, but they found a spot during an MRI on her brain. They had no neurologist on hand to analyze it. What does the spot mean? Well, it could mean anything - or nothing. It might cause a stroke, it might have been caused by a small one. It could be cancer or worse. Yeah, worse. Or not.
When she was little, she used to be scared of the dark. She'd always want to sleep in my bed, but being a brother, that was just too weird for me. So, she'd wait until I was asleep and then sleep at the foot of my bed where I often, mostly accidentally, kicked her. She figured it was still safer than being in her bed alone. Yeah, she was an annoying little Sister, but it did kinda feel good that she looked up to me like that. And now, there's nothing I can do to help.
So, that's what happened. I haven't done much in the last two days except relive that. I'm sure she has too.