Feelings going on


The look on his face when I walk into the ICU and he’s being held down by three nurses because morphine has him convinced that they’re trying to kill him and sell his body on a ship and he’s trying to fling himself from the hospital bed to escape. This morphine is horrid.  What’s worse is the trauma he’s going through waking up and not remembering anything thanks to his head injury.  Having to explain where he is, promising over and over that it is, in fact, a hospital he’s in and not a car park (I think he is remembering scenes from the night of the shooting subconsciously) has become normal practice.


The way he moves his right leg when he doesn’t realise he needs to, but when it counts he can’t.  He feels sensations and tickling and scratching but has no control over the right side of his body.  This is due to his head injury and where the bullet nicked his brain.  It’s the section that controls all his motorskills.  We’re hopeful that his paralysis is temporary and will go away once the swelling has gone down.


Walking out of the ICU after an hour and a half of calming him down, running through facts over and over and over and over again with him, just to keep him in bed and not running away from whatever hallucinated monster/criminal/wild animal he is currently seeing in his mind.  Being covered in his blood after he rips out his pipes in one of his fits.  Hearing him scream with pain when the nurse turns him over so he doesn’t get bed sores.  Listening to the endless alarms and sirens in that environment from five years back.  Collapsing in a heap after two hours of crisis in his ICU.  Shaking too much to light a cigarette or drink tea.


Families who spend hours upon hours in the waiting room eventually turn to each other for support in the recovery of their own respective loved ones.  One such family was that of the MacKay’s.  Shaun’s family.  The Brumbie Boy, as he has come to be known to all of us.  Our moms comforted each other during the early hours of the first morning and said that our boys would walk out of here and one day shake hands and laugh at their neurotic mommas.  Shaun passed away this morning at 2:54am.  We are devestated for his parents Lee and John and his long time girlfriend Trish, who’m I shared the overly sized couch with numerous times over the last week.  It’s just not right.


Worried about infections passed, stressed about getting sick myself (who will translate to the parentals then?  Who will bath Brand?) and listening to Brandon talking to invisible children and singing along to unheard rock songs that are being played too loudly in his head – is he going mad permanently?  Is it really just a temporary insanity?


That it wasn’t our loved one who died today.  That he’s still talking, even if it is just to moan or tell me about the space rangers shooting lazer guns or to tell my dad to have the car packed and prepared, just in case we need to escape in a hurry.

Everything.  All at once.  All the time.  But I wouldn’t have it any other way if it meant I’d have lost my brother.

This entry was posted in Baboo.


  1. Po says:

    You are a strong lady. Your bro is so lucky to have you. I would have crumpled long ago.

    To be strong for someone else takes something extra special.

  2. angel says:

    Shebeeliciousness darling… I wish I could do something for you all, either to help you put your minds at rest or get some sleep or something.

  3. Stalker says:

    Hey my friend I understand how hard this is trust me, the same thing happend to my cousin about 2 years back he is still in a wheel chair but doing better however his problems were not from his car accident but the morphine he was allergic to it and went into a seizure at the hospital and they took to long to give him oxygen so he is now partly brain damaged also can not walk properly and it effected his speach really badly, so just check he is not porefiric (allergic to penasillan my whole family is) easy way to tell is if his pee is black then tell them to take him off asap and put him on pethadeen instead the hospital my cousin was in mistakenly gave him morphene about 8 times after instructed not to and having it written all over his chart,

    But all that said I have so much hope he sounds like he is so much better already and nobody could have as much family support as your family offers, babe be strong he will be ok and back to normall before you know it! love you so much hun miss you so so much wish I could be there to hold your hand

  4. flarkus says:

    You hang in there, cos you can and often do. If you think you can’t, think of all the people out there rooting for your family, even from 1000’s of km away.

  5. MsBehavn says:

    Shee, you and your family are incredible. I keep reading your posts, tearing up and then not being able to post something that will make sense!

    So this is just proving that I was/am here!

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