It is so interesting to me how my reactions have changed over time. When I was a teenager my brother's fits and outbursts use to throw me for a loop. Now years later I understand the ebb and flow of mental illness and how it goes. I guess there's one good thing about growing older:) .
Recently my big brother Tom or "t" as we affectionately call him was hospitalized for his gallbladder. He had never been in the hospital for a "medical" non mental illness related problem so this was quite a trip for him. Luckily we were able to secure him a private room so he could feel more comfortable. I went to see T on the third day of his stay. He didn't say much, which for him is unsusual. I could tell he was frightened, laying in his bed very stiffly not wanting to move for fear of pulling stitches out or causing harm to all the attachments to his body.
T started talking about "papa bear" (my deceased father) and how he had been in this room during many illnesses. He continued reminiscing and then broke into tears. I got the feeling he was seeing his own mortality as he lay there in bed recuperating from minor surgery. Although slightly more complicated due to his obesity. I wanted to go over and reassure him that everything would be ok and soon he'd be home. But somehow I felt his angst and couldn't really say anything except, "it's ok T, let it out". He sobbed for a few minutes and then abruptly stopped. Sometimes, even as caregivers to those who need comforting -- we come up short. In this case his suffering seemed more of the kind that all humans feel from time to time despite having a "mental illness diagnosis" .
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