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Barbare Kacharava

He made it down here. His doctor told him he needed to get down here ASAP. He was released from the hospital on the Tuesday after being admitted over the weekend, had follow-ups on Thursday and Friday, and on Friday was threatened with forcible readmittance to the hospital if he didn't have a plan to move down here to be with family and get with specialists "by next week" (this past week). So he skedaddled and packed up his cats with like. three days' planning, and got here this past Tuesday.

He's in rough shape. His whole body is just. Skeletal. It's like he's just skin and bones. I just saw him in April and he was really thin but it's even worse now, four months later. His whole face is sunken in, his skin is sallow, he has no energy. He has to take naps throughout the day, which, you know, isn't the worst thing.

But at least he's down here now. He's gonna have to see a whole cadre of specialists, one of which is in a neighboring state, but we'll make it work. We have to. The alternative isn't able to be thought about.

Something my dad said has stuck with me, though. He made the cardinal sin of putting It out into the universe. "I hate the thought of you being an only child," he said, and it was like the world shifted. The Evil Eye turned its gaze. I know he's hurting and he's scared, but it was hard not to be (irrationally) mad at him for saying it out loud, because you don't say that out loud where the universe can hear it. But I feel it. I'm scared, too. My brother came to visit for a little bit the other day and got exhausted going up the stairs to my apartment. Hell, he took a power nap just chilling while we were hanging out at Mom's house, then again at my place later the same day. He's just so tired. He has so little energy in him at any given time.

I'm scared. He's my brother. I need him to be okay.