This Tale Has No Dead End

(My brother has had an accident. I visit him almost every day, and even make sure I am in the recovery room when he comes out of surgery. My parents are panicking. I hold his hand, speaking to him and getting him to squeeze my hand back in response. I am able to calm my parents once they know he is responding. We didn’t talk about it afterwards. About two months later at my Mum’s birthday dinner one of our cousins comes up to me.)

Cousin: “Oh, my God. I have so much respect for you after what I heard about you.”

Me: “Umm, what did you hear?”

Cousin: “[Brother] told me what you did. I love you so much for what you did.”

Me: “What I did do?”

Cousin: *tearing up* “It just makes me cry!”

Me: “What did I do?”

Cousin: “[Brother] told me that he thought he was dead after his surgery. He couldn’t see anything or hear anything. Then he heard your voice talking to him. He thought he was DEAD. You called him back and held his hand.”

(It was so nice to hear that. We tease the bejeezus out of each other but really don’t tell each other how we feel…)