when you finally open your eyes
As I write this currently existing in the limbo of tim world, I remember intermittently that the rest of the world celebrates my favorite time of year. Christmas
If Tim was conscious right now the isaac’s and wells would have attempted to embark (weather permitting) on our annual ski/snow boarding holiday in France where charades is the in game and a white Christmas is celebrated in style. Even after Monday 13th Dec and after seeing my little brother in Milton Keynes resus with no visible scratches or cuts to his body and kicking his feet out, our Isaac/Wells plan was to drive Tim to France with dad and Mum and I fly with the luxury of tax-free shopping.
We have since learnt this was our survival strategy
6 days ago I was loving the build up to Christmas and celebrating my new job, but I have probably aged 7 years as that’s how long it feels.
Time is a lost cause on myself, mum and dad as our 24 hr a day focus is getting ourselves to the JR neuro ICU and sitting watching Tim’s numbers (which we pretend we understand) going up and down, paying particular attention to his ICP (inter-cranial pressure). If that remained as high as it was last Monday evening at 40 then we would be looking at brain surgery to reduce his pressures. This has so far, due to our willing Tim to pull his socks up, remained rather stable and as a normal (non-coma) person has a range of 5-20, Tim has, on 19th Dec at 19ish o’clock, an ICP of 3. However due to my irrational fear of jinxing Tim I am not celebrating.
Within the 4 walls of the relatives room at John radcliff neuro section I have laughed and cried along with my family, Tim’s fantastic, supportive and incredibly strong girlfriend and my equally strong, kind and gentle boyfriend (Who is currently dog-sitting and keeping the Isaac household ticking over silently). For the little brother I have temporarily lost to induced coma and brain injury
If I could photograph you Tim I would, so you could see how you looked to us. I have willed for myself to swap places with you to save your body fighting, as you know I have far more reserves than you 🙂 but sadly and with some gladness I can’t swap to be in your position because I never want you to experience our pro-longed grief and mourning.
So instead I have taken photo’s for you to look at when you come round eventually and have fought your double Pneumonia off AND you wake up being my normal little brother, moaning at me for massaging your hands whilst you’ve been sleeping and picking your scabs ( I know you’d do the same to me 🙂 I have photographed the snow which we fought through to get to you, the weeks we have waited for you to come back, the room in which we spent our waking hours and your family.
This will be read with sadness and sympathy, but the Isaacs don’t want your sympathy we need your hope and prayers. I would also stress to you to tell the one’s closest how much you love them because you never know when that last conversation about how much you weigh or how thin your partner/sibling or loved one is (Tim’s last conversation with me) could be your last.
All I want for christmas truly is you, Tim. Without ventilators breathing for you and without tubes up your nose feeding you, and for you to squeeze our hand again and open your eyes