My sister C, his mother, is a nurse practitioner, which I suspect is why they let C go home, even though he's still quite ill. He's been staying with my parents in his old bedroom, where he can get the rest he needs in his own bed. And my sister lives next door, so she can monitor his condition.
As I mentioned in my previous post, I don't want to violate C's privacy. That said, I can say that I was badly shaken by how sick he was. C is 24 years old, in excellent shape, and in good health overall. It was scary, and quite sobering, to see how quickly his condition deteriorated. I try not to think about what would have happened had my sister not trusted her instincts and gone in to check on him once he had been sick for four days (C lives in Boston, while she lives about a half-hour outside the city).
If you could, please continue to keep C in your thoughts; he's been through a lot, and will likely be recuperating for some time. I'd like to thank Alice, Halle, my colleague M, and my manager L, among others, who have been checking in regularly to ask about C. It means a great to myself, my sister, and to C.
I went over to say hello when he got home from the hospital. We only spoke for a few minutes, as he was exhausted. He told me his mother had passed along the greetings from everyone, and asked me to thank them all on his behalf. I promised I would, but he was dozing off before I finished answering.
I reached over and shut off the light next to his bed, then headed for the door. Just before I closed it I heard his voice:
"Auntie?"
I stopped and turned.
"Hey, C. I'm still here."
"I just wanted to say... you have really good friends, Auntie."
Yes, I do, C. Yes I do.
***
Now that C is home where he belongs, I'm hoping to finally finish my post about Montreal in the next day or two. Have a good week 'til then, everyone. And give your loved ones a hug. Just because.
***
This Greg Brown song, from his 1988 album One More Goodnight Kiss, has been running through my head the past 10 days. You'll understand why when you listen to it. Prepare to be moved:
As a bonus, here's "Daughters," the first Greg Brown song I ever heard, from his second album, 1983's The Iowa Waltz. It was this verse that made - and still makes - the hairs on my neck stand on end:
When my daughter who is tall now was not so tall
One night we were driving home in the truck
And I was sad because I was busted and disgusted
And she looked out the window and said,
"Dad, the moon is coming home with us"
She said, "Dad, the moon is coming home with us"
I'm a man who's rich in daughters
And if by some wild chance I get rich in money
Like another two thou a year, or even one thou a year
I'm gonna look into havin' some more daughters
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