I have a “little” brother. Our mom had 3 miscarriages before I was born. My brother was born 15 months after me. When he was a few years old they started noticing behavior problems- so much so that he couldn’t finish Kindergarten. As a child, I remember dark scary nights hearing the strange noises from grand mal seizures, many hours in waiting rooms at Children’s Hospital in Seattle, parents knocking him around when he was young, sitting outside the institution for retarded people alone in the vehicle watching people stand outside and bang their head against the wall while my parents visited inside with my brother. It was a scary and confusing life for a child. As he got older, he was sent away to different institutions and homes and rarely lived at home for more than a couple months. My mom tried very hard to find the right place for him but 50 and 60 years ago there was no perfect place. Dad was too ashamed of him to do anything but yell at him. Growing up like this meant I never had a close relationship with my brother. I grew up in a house of constant shame with a narcissistic dad and a codependent enmeshed mother. Nothing was explained to me. I took the fast way out of that house but that's for another blog entry.
My brother is developmentally disabled with epilepsy and several other mental and physical issues. He also has oppositional defiant disorder which means he’s stubborn and doesn’t want to do what he’s told. This has gotten him into trouble many many times. I believe he also has a learning disability in that he just doesn’t comprehend consequences. There was the time he picked up a knife while walking to Walgreen’s. When the police were called, he tried to hand it to them and instead they yelled at him with guns drawn and aimed directly at his heart. He finally dropped it and they pepper sprayed him and knocked him to the ground- a developmentally disabled man. (Tangent here- this is why I support taking funds from the police and getting it into the hands of mental health experts and other social service entities). He can’t read and can barely write (and doesn't always speak clearly) yet he has been hauled off and booked into jail several times.
I never really understood who he was although if he needed protecting I'd be there. Then around 10 years ago he developed serious colon cancer which had spread to his liver. They removed a chunk of his colon and a little of his liver. My mother had become too elderly to be at his side daily at the hospital and rehab facility and my dad wouldn't go into the hospital more than once. So, I went- and I discovered the most loving and funny and toughest person I know. He recovered very slowly but he recovered.
A few years later he was walking home, and an SUV hit him and left him for dead breaking bones in nearly every part of his body (see KOMO link below- KIRO also interviewed me). It took several years after several surgeries to recover from that. And, once again, he recovered and never strayed from being a loving funny person. He really couldn’t understand why someone would do that to him, though. It nearly broke my heart when I told him I don’t know why. We never caught the person.
These are only a few examples of what he’s been through. These days he’s living with a large inoperable hernia and a healed broken femur (he fell) that have caused him to become dependent on a walker and wheelchair. The blessing in that is the police are no longer a threat because he can't go out by himself. The staff where he lives are better trained to deal with his behaviors so they don't incite his anger.
I’m his advocate. Unfortunately, the pandemic has only allowed me to visit him once in seven months. I am still there to protect him just like I was when we were young, and the other kids picked on him. And the best? He has taught me unconditional love for a human. He has taught me how to let go of the shame and be proud of someone for just being who they are. He has taught me what resilience is about. He has taught me that what others think doesn’t matter. And to keep a sense of humor through it all. Oh, and keep hugging (we were never a hugging family).
My relationship with my brother has really changed the way I see the world. I question the term "normal person." And what makes a tough and strong person? Because he’s the toughest guy I know.
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