“You cannot prevent the birds of sorrow from flying over your head, but you can prevent them from building nests in your hair.”

Old Chinese proverb

I am the oldest of three children. I am five years older than my sister and 10 years older than my brother. When my brother was only 9 months old our mom decided to go to nursing school. It was an all hands on deck situation during that time, with my dad taking my little sister to keep her occupied and me helping with my little brother. It didn’t take long for me to start thinking of him as “my baby” and act as such.

As we grew up that dynamic never really changed. I was the one the teachers would call out of class to help him if he was having a bad day (we went to a very small school where kindergarten through 12th grade were all on the same campus). I would eat lunch with him most days. I would drive him to baseball or flag football practice. As he got older I was his sounding board for all things girls and life. I even gave him THE talk. Awkward! We literally talked about anything and everything.

After my late fiancé passed away my brother hardly left my side. We were constantly going to the movies, to dinner, riding horses, or going on trips. I didn’t realize it then, but this was his way of protecting me; keeping me busy while still keeping an eye on me. After he graduated high school, he even moved in with me for a little while.

Now let me back up a bit. When my brother was about 8 years old he had to have a physical to play sports. The EKG that was done showed an “abnormality” and he was sent to see a specialist for his heart. After a series of tests, he was diagnosed with Ebstein’s Anomaly, a congenital heart defect that affects the tricuspid valve of the heart. According to the American Heart Association, this condition is so rare it only occurs in 1 out of 200,000 live births (https://www.ahajournals.org/doi/10.1161/CIRCULATIONAHA.106.619338#d1e303)

After receiving this diagnosis, my brother would have yearly checkups with his cardiologist, where he would undergo EKGs, echocardiograms, and blood work. Every year we were told he was healthy and there was no need to change anything. Then, his junior year of high school he developed atrial fibrillation, an irregular, rapid rhythm of the heart that causes decreased blood flow. He spent several days in the hospital to get it under control. After that day, he would be on medication to control his heart rhythm and rate for the rest of his life.

Years went by with no major issues for my brother’s health. He would follow up every year and every year he was told he was “doing well” and there was no need to change his regime… Until the morning of June 28, 2021.

I was walking into the gym that morning when I got a call from my mom. I thought it was strange she was calling me so early so I hurried to answer it. She was crying, telling me that something had happened to my brother and he was being rushed to a nearby hospital. As this was during the time of COVID, I was unsure if I would even be allowed in to see him. After I called one of my closest Nurse Practitioner friends to tell her what was going on, she talked me into putting on a pair of scrubs and my hospital badge and making the hour and half drive to see what was happening.

I remember walking straight into the hospital and up to the ICU where my brother’s room was. As I stood there taking in everything around me, watching my baby brother being supported with a ventilator, the Heart Failure Doctor walked in. I explained to him that I was an ICU Nurse Practitioner at a different hospital facility but that I needed him to be as honest and clear with me about what was happening so I could relay the information to my family.

The doctor brought me down to the echocardiogram reading room, where the Interventional Cardiologist was looking at my brother’s echocardiogram. They explained that the Ebstein’s Anomaly had caused the entire right side of his heart to enlarge and he would need a heart transplant and possibly a lung transplant as well.

We spent three days in that ICU. Every morning, the Heart Failure Specialist would call me from his personal cell phone to update me about the night before, and every morning I would walk into the hospital and pass on that same information to my family, explaining what was happening and what that meant for my brother. We waited three long days to finally have him accepted to Texas Children’s Hospital in The Houston Medical Center. We were preparing for a long road of recovery, as we knew he would need a heart and lung transplant once available.

The morning of June 30, 2021 life flight was called into transport him from Bryan, Texas to Houston to begin the process of transplantation. You could feel the relief within our family circle, as if we just knew everything was going to be okay from this point forward. My parents and sister left to go gather the things they would need, as my husband, sister in law, and other family members waited to watch life flight leave.

Not long after my family had left the hospital, we heard a “code blue” being called over the hospital system to my brother’s room. I figured it went off when the bed was unplugged to move him and didn’t think too much about it. I stood there, waiting for the code to be cancelled, but it never was. After what seemed like forever, my husband told me to go check to see what was going on. When I walked around the corner, every single ICU staff member were in my brother’s room, performing CPR.

We were quickly rushed into a private family room, where I called my sister and parents to get back to the hospital as soon as they could. Once everyone was together, the nurse came in to give us another update on the situation. When I asked her how long they had been performing CPR, she replied “45 minutes”. I looked at my parents, then back at the nurse, and told her to stop CPR.

I will never forget the screams that came from my mom, my sister, and my sister in law; I will never forget the look on my dad’s face; I will never forget the tears that flowed from my husband’s eyes as I said those words. In that moment, I felt like my entire family hated me for making the decision I knew I had to make, effectively ending my brother’s life. He was only 26 years old.

As we began to make arrangements for my brother’s funeral, I would not allow myself to feel any emotion. It was almost as if I had turned everything off. This was my punishment to myself. I would be strong and make the hard decisions so everyone else could grieve the way they needed to.

Working Through The Guilt:

It took almost an entire year for me to finally allow myself to FEEL the pain of losing my baby brother; to finally accept that he was gone. It took almost an entire year for me to work up the courage to ask my husband if he hated me for the decision I had made. It took almost an entire year for me to allow myself to be the sister instead of the provider.

I have held onto this guilt and pain for over 2 years. Initially, I felt it would just be a memory that I would need to work through when I felt ready, however I have come to realize that holding onto such strong emotional energy can cause physical and mental pain as well.

How I began to work through the Guilt:

• I started talking about my feelings. I had to be open and honest about how I was feeling, whether it was good or bad. I needed to recognize my feelings and talk about them. I began with journaling my thoughts and feelings, then sharing them with my brother, and eventually speaking them out loud to others.
• I am working through the emotional energy I have had buried deep inside of me by seeing a Reiki Master to help with healing.
• I have allowed myself to be present in the moment through meditation. The stillness has given me the opportunity to recognize my emotions, feel them completely, and work through them as I need to.
• I asked my brother for forgiveness.

I know my brother watches over my family and I. I know he is near when a certain song comes on the radio, I see anything LSU (Geaux Tigers), or someone says something funny I know he would have giggled at. I talk to him and about him everyday. I look for him in everything that I do. I keep his memory alive by telling his story and listening to the stories others tell about him.

The grief I feel for the loss of my brother will be forever, as it is a testament to the love I have for him. The guilt I have held onto for so long was my unconscious way of holding onto the last ties I had to my brother. I am learning to let the guilt go, while keeping the memories and love of my sweet baby brother close to my heart to help me through the pain, until we meet again.