Back To Philly

JERRY
This week Jaynee writes about our cousin Jerry.
From the beginning, one of the few men in my life was Jerry. He was my brother more than most brothers ever reach. He walked me to Kindergarten, and let me touch his Queen Elizabeth Coronation figures. He taught me to play chess and poker. When he grew up and lived in his first apartment, I painted his sun mural on his wall. We have shared our secrets for my fifty-nine years.
Jerry had a cold that seemed to hang on for three weeks, but that was not a surprise because he smoked heavily. But when I called Jerry this week, he had become weak and short of breath. Our compromise, since Jerry does not like doctors, was that if he were not well by Saturday, I would take him to the emergency room. When I called Friday night at midnight, he was worse, and my son and I drove up to Philly. At Jefferson, he was taken immediately into Triage and eventually moved to the Pulmonary Intensive Care Unit. Pneumonia had lodged in both lobes of his lungs, his blood pressure and hemocrit was close to not functioning, and his stomach was full of blood. Doctors and nurses kept telling him he was very sick. Up in the intensive care unit, suddenly he could not breathe and the docs installed a ventilator.
I have never seen Jerry helpless. Jerry and Brian talk endlessly about poker, math, and science. I am very proud they are both brilliant. Brian’s hair is long like Jerry’s. He went to Drexel University like Jerry and is as much like Jerry as he is like Harry, Brian’s dad. I am praying endlessly for Jerry’s recovery. Even at fifty-nine, it is a shock to find neither we nor those we love are immortal. For me alone, I do not want to give Jerry up to eternity.