Waiting to Inhale

So this weekend on my way down to DC, I call up my sister just to chat. She asks me if I'd spoken with my parents the day before. I had, but much earlier in the day before she did. Apparently, something new is showing up on my brother's most recent MRI. It's visible to the eye, but the computers are saying nothing is there. That's not good. It doesn't look like it's a re-growth of the same tumor - it's a new one. In a new place, on the other side of his brain. It's spreading. God. They have to run a different test, the one that shows the sugar consumption in the brain cells. But still... God. I think I felt my heart in my throat. She asked me to say something. I replied that I'm sorry, I'm just trying to breathe. All of this stuff.... sixteen years of everything he's been through flashes through my mind in an instant. But the rolodex stops spinning on this one point: there were a bunch of kids in our town in New Jersey after we moved that we later found out developed brain tumors. Shit, an old playmate of mine that used to live across the street from me got a brain tumor, like my brother. And there was a contingency of parents there protesting the building of high-power lines. And he has power lines in his back yard. Fuck. At that point, I was determined to have a talk with him again. Last year, he moved into a house in the spring that had power lines in the back yard. I remember seeing the house for the first time. It was lovely. Then I went out in the back, and I got nervous. I looked at him and asked him if he was sure he wanted this place. I commented to him and later on to my parents that it's nice, but he shouldn't live there very long. Plus, he has my cute little boo boo! What if that child inherited his weakness? They have got to get away from the power lines. They moved in in March. His tumor showed up in September. Although we didn't know it, thanks to the spoons at the hospital. We go through another surgery, a round of experimental treatment, and we have some serious hope... and then this. I am now sure it's the house. Not the house itself, but the power lines in the back. He had gone for several years last time - he had had surgery, chemotherapy, AND radiation to kill his tumor. And now it's back, even more aggressively so, once he moved into his house. My sister tries to make sure my faith is still okay. I reassure her that it's fine. I know that God's plan is perfect and that he is in control. I am just going to cry sometimes. We wrap up, talk about some other things. I keep driving, and manage to get some breath. But it's on my mind. So then I couldn't help it. I got on the horn and started calling. I want to grease the skids for the discussion I want to have with my brother, so I call my mom first. This is the sucky thing about being the youngest child - you lack authority sometimes because your older siblings have years on you. Anyway, I tell her that I know, and then I beg her to start talking to him about selling the house. I remind her of the children in Middletown, my childhood playmate, and the protest. She remembers my comment when he bought the house about how it was nice but he shouldn't live there very long. I felt like crying. I don't say it to her, but my skin feels like it's screaming, "It's the house, dammit! Don't you see? It's just a thing! He has to let it go!" I am not ready to bury my brother this decade, or the next. She agreed to talk to my dad and them having a conversation with my brother about selling the place. I'm mostly relieved. My brother calls me later to wish me a happy birthday. I appreciate hearing from him. I let him know that I want to have a little talk about his health, but I was going to save that conversation for later since he had just gotten home from work and was tired. God. Last night I thought about it again. I remind God that my offer to take his tumor still stands. I beg God to let my brother and his wife see, to let go of the house. So today I call my folks when I go out to get some lunch. She and dad have greased the skids, and started talking to my brother and his wife. I think that they might do it. Mom also talked to a friend of hers who is a doctor. The doctor friend agrees - he really should move. There is some apparently study where some cows in Switzerland that were near power lines didn't produce milk, compared to other cows. The Body Electric, indeed. So far, things seem good... I hope they'll make the decision and do it fast. Not for my sake, but for his and his family's. And then maybe we all can breathe easier again.