Different Strokes

My brother and I have been handling my Dad's surgery... well... differently.

When I first heard that my Dad might have surgery, my immediate response was "let me know when it is and I'll buy a ticket." Perhaps I'm especially sensitive to the situation given my recent health issues. But, I think it's really important to care for and visit people who are in the hospital. It's a vulnerable time.

I had visions of my whole family sitting in the waiting room for a few hours and, eventually, sitting with my Dad by his bed. Maybe we'd watch a movie together in his room or sing some songs to cheer him up; there would definitely be balloons.

Oops. This is the Goldberg family. We value individuality, autonomy, and dysfunction. We've never had family dinners. Why would a hospital visit be any different?

Sasha just started a new job. He's up in Massachusetts and isn't planning on coming down until this weekend. This was largely at the encouragement of my Dad who didn't want to interfere with the new job. Sasha has routinely been in touch over the phone and I think would have likely come down had it not been for Dad's prodding.

Grandma, my father's mother, was not around Monday or Tuesday and still hasn't shown up at the hospital. She's waiting for my Mom's friend, Beth, who's racing down from Long Island to help out in any way that she can. I think that will largely entail chauffeuring Grandma around. Almost predictably, her car broke down on the way.

But, I understand why they're not here. I'm having a much harder time understanding my brother's behavior.

Let's rewind to last week. This was before I arrived, so it's second hand. My parents just had a patio installed in the backyard. They needed to move the picnic table onto it. My Mom asked for BB's help. BB asked my Dad to help. My Dad, who's had a hard time lifting heavy things, said he couldn't. BB screamed: "You wuss! C'mon and pick up the table!" I suppose BB was having a heard time believing that his father could be having heart problems.

BB used to routinely have lots of friends over to drink and be loud. It was very stressful for my parents. They eventually prohibited him from having people over. Yet on Monday night (after months of being "better"), he had about thirty people over at around 11pm. Mom and Dad got visibly stressed; Mom went to bed. Fortunately, the guests left by midnight. Dad and I kept playing Scrabble which eventually calmed him down. But, why would you chose two nights before Dad's surgery to throw a big party?

Last night, Mom, Dad, and I had just finished a delightful dinner and were getting ready to go to bed before the surgery. Somewhat surprisingly, my Dad fell asleep by around 11:30. My Mom and I sat up talking about our anxieties for a bit. At around 1am, my phone rang; it was BB. "Come pick me up," he said. He was stranded in Philadelphia. Though I offered to just pay for a cab, my Mom and I eventually drove into the city to rescue him. We picked him up on a street corner. The entire ride home, he talked about the exploits of his wild partying. We got home and BB showed no respect for Dad's rest, failing to use his indoor voice. "I won't wake Dad; I'm not an idiot," he said. Dad woke up. Mom and I tried to pack in as much sleep as we could over the next two hours.

This morning, BB didn't come to the hospital, in large part because he had a job interview. I talked with him after the interview, but he didn't seem to have any interest in coming to the hospital. I told him I'd let him know when we had news. He was interested in that.

I think BB's having a hard time with the thought of Dad going into surgery; I think he's having a hard time with life. He's also not very good at expressing himself. As a result, he tends to pull away from and lash out at others. He has definitely expressed concern for Dad. But, BB's actions convey a blatant disregard for his feelings. I find it a bit hard to deal with.