RubySoho
Winston
How My Brother Died
July 7th 2009 03:49
The day after my brother died the police handed us the Coroner's certificate. The sudden and shocking death of my 31 year old brother was summarised in four cold words: Cardiac Tamponade, Aortic Dissection. No, we had no idea what it meant either.
My brother wasn't sick. At least not as far as we knew knew. A few days before his death he complained of some chest and back pains but two visits to his GP only yielded the advice to rest up and go to the hospital if the pain got worse. For his part, my brother googled his symptoms and the best Dr Google could do was advise him that he possibly had pesticide poisoning. The GP agreed. So two days before he died my brother told me that he was not feeling a hundred percent because he had eaten too many mandarins!
At ten minutes to three on the afternoon of Thursday May 21 my brother was feeling tired so he went to have a nap. This is what happened to him sometime between 3pm and 4pm:
An aortic dissection is a tear in the heart. It is a rare condition that is either genetic in origin or caused by hypertension. Since my brother did not have high blood pressure and given that my father died from heart problems, I think it is safe to say that my brother was born with his condition. It lay dormant for 31 years and then, for some reason, the tear began to bleed. The bleeding led to the ultimate cause of death- a cardiac tamponade which is an emergency heart failure caused by the filling up of the protective sac around the heart with fluid. Not all cardiac tamponade is caused by aortic dissection. Sometime the sac fills up with fluid as a result of trauma or injury.
In my brother's case, we have no idea what aggrievated his condition. It could have been stress, It could have been the fact that he had recently put on weight after a back injury. It could have been nothing at all. But for some reason, the tear in his heart started to bleed. When the sac filled up with blood, the heart had no room to pump blood. So it simply stopped beating.
We don't know if my brother struggled and tried to get up. We don't know if he knew he was dying. We don't even know if he was awake or asleep when it happened. All we know is that his death would have been quick. My mother found him in a peaceful position. One arm resting on his stomach, the other behind his head. I like to take this as evidence that his heart gave way whilst he was asleep. I like to think that as far as he knows, my brother is still asleep. That he is still waiting to wake up, knowing that when he does he will be getting dressed and going to his brother's house where he has been invited to dinner.
Six weeks later and I am still having trouble accepting that my brother is really dead. Even as I type these words I feel as though I am talking about someone else. It is like I am watching myself from outside my body. Could it really be possible that I will never see him again? That he won't ever greet me with a kiss on both cheeks- and it always had to be both cheeks. Even when I would try to cheat and give him a quick peck on one check, he would grab my arm and pull me back. We are Lebs Ruby, he would say. It's always two cheeks. I don't even remember what his last words were to me or vice versa. All I remember is we had lunch and without any of us noticing, he quietly slipped to his room to have a nap. I remember standing outside his door as I was leaving with a mixture of annoyance and concern. Why did he go to his room without even saying goodbye? That's not like him. Should I go in? Should I see if he is okay? No, he must be tired, I'll just let him rest....
In the days after his death I was filled with so much anger. Anger at the universe. Anger at myself for not going into my brother's room to see if he was okay. Anger at his GP who wouldn't send him to the hospital given the fact that she was aware of the history of heart problems in my family. And then we spoke to a cardiologist. It still kills me to say this but my brother pretty much had no chance. Those were the cardiologists exact words. I'm sorry to tell you this but your brother had no chance. The fact that my brother was only 31 combined with the fact that cardiac tamponade is so rare means that most doctors are unable to recognise the symptoms. Even if my brother had taken himself to the hospital, they would have tested for just about everything else first. Meanwhile his heart would have been slowly bleeding. And here is the cincher, even if they had discovered the problem, given that he was already bleeding, the chances of his having survived the surgery were almost zero.
My brother had no chance.
It was just one of those awful random things that are so rare it can only happen to other people. The Coroner said they see one case per year. One case. This year it was my brother. Who will it be next year I wonder? It kills me to know that somewhere out there, there is a young person, most likely a man, who is a walking time bomb, whose heart has a tear in it that will one day start to bleed. He will complain of chest pains, but given his youth, given the fact that the symptoms are so vague and given the fact that the condition is so rare then his doctor will probably not be too worried. And then one day, he will suddenly collapse and not get up again.
Or maybe, like my brother, he will feel tired, go to sleep and never wake up.
And my heart aches. It aches for myself. It aches for my brother who was struck down in the prime of his life. It aches for my mother whose final years will be spent mourning the loss of her baby. And it aches for the family of that young man I don't know and will never know, who will also be in for a world of pain like they could never imagine when their beloved son, brother, cousin and friend dies suddenly and leaves a great big vacuum where his life used to be.
My brother wasn't sick. At least not as far as we knew knew. A few days before his death he complained of some chest and back pains but two visits to his GP only yielded the advice to rest up and go to the hospital if the pain got worse. For his part, my brother googled his symptoms and the best Dr Google could do was advise him that he possibly had pesticide poisoning. The GP agreed. So two days before he died my brother told me that he was not feeling a hundred percent because he had eaten too many mandarins!
At ten minutes to three on the afternoon of Thursday May 21 my brother was feeling tired so he went to have a nap. This is what happened to him sometime between 3pm and 4pm:
An aortic dissection is a tear in the heart. It is a rare condition that is either genetic in origin or caused by hypertension. Since my brother did not have high blood pressure and given that my father died from heart problems, I think it is safe to say that my brother was born with his condition. It lay dormant for 31 years and then, for some reason, the tear began to bleed. The bleeding led to the ultimate cause of death- a cardiac tamponade which is an emergency heart failure caused by the filling up of the protective sac around the heart with fluid. Not all cardiac tamponade is caused by aortic dissection. Sometime the sac fills up with fluid as a result of trauma or injury.
In my brother's case, we have no idea what aggrievated his condition. It could have been stress, It could have been the fact that he had recently put on weight after a back injury. It could have been nothing at all. But for some reason, the tear in his heart started to bleed. When the sac filled up with blood, the heart had no room to pump blood. So it simply stopped beating.
We don't know if my brother struggled and tried to get up. We don't know if he knew he was dying. We don't even know if he was awake or asleep when it happened. All we know is that his death would have been quick. My mother found him in a peaceful position. One arm resting on his stomach, the other behind his head. I like to take this as evidence that his heart gave way whilst he was asleep. I like to think that as far as he knows, my brother is still asleep. That he is still waiting to wake up, knowing that when he does he will be getting dressed and going to his brother's house where he has been invited to dinner.
Six weeks later and I am still having trouble accepting that my brother is really dead. Even as I type these words I feel as though I am talking about someone else. It is like I am watching myself from outside my body. Could it really be possible that I will never see him again? That he won't ever greet me with a kiss on both cheeks- and it always had to be both cheeks. Even when I would try to cheat and give him a quick peck on one check, he would grab my arm and pull me back. We are Lebs Ruby, he would say. It's always two cheeks. I don't even remember what his last words were to me or vice versa. All I remember is we had lunch and without any of us noticing, he quietly slipped to his room to have a nap. I remember standing outside his door as I was leaving with a mixture of annoyance and concern. Why did he go to his room without even saying goodbye? That's not like him. Should I go in? Should I see if he is okay? No, he must be tired, I'll just let him rest....
In the days after his death I was filled with so much anger. Anger at the universe. Anger at myself for not going into my brother's room to see if he was okay. Anger at his GP who wouldn't send him to the hospital given the fact that she was aware of the history of heart problems in my family. And then we spoke to a cardiologist. It still kills me to say this but my brother pretty much had no chance. Those were the cardiologists exact words. I'm sorry to tell you this but your brother had no chance. The fact that my brother was only 31 combined with the fact that cardiac tamponade is so rare means that most doctors are unable to recognise the symptoms. Even if my brother had taken himself to the hospital, they would have tested for just about everything else first. Meanwhile his heart would have been slowly bleeding. And here is the cincher, even if they had discovered the problem, given that he was already bleeding, the chances of his having survived the surgery were almost zero.
My brother had no chance.
It was just one of those awful random things that are so rare it can only happen to other people. The Coroner said they see one case per year. One case. This year it was my brother. Who will it be next year I wonder? It kills me to know that somewhere out there, there is a young person, most likely a man, who is a walking time bomb, whose heart has a tear in it that will one day start to bleed. He will complain of chest pains, but given his youth, given the fact that the symptoms are so vague and given the fact that the condition is so rare then his doctor will probably not be too worried. And then one day, he will suddenly collapse and not get up again.
Or maybe, like my brother, he will feel tired, go to sleep and never wake up.
And my heart aches. It aches for myself. It aches for my brother who was struck down in the prime of his life. It aches for my mother whose final years will be spent mourning the loss of her baby. And it aches for the family of that young man I don't know and will never know, who will also be in for a world of pain like they could never imagine when their beloved son, brother, cousin and friend dies suddenly and leaves a great big vacuum where his life used to be.
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Comment by Waysouth
Romantic Writer
Given To Gaming
Waysouth
Spanish Honduras
I had a friend who died under similar circumstances. He was 42. The last time I saw him he told me he had been sick, but he was feeling better. I was going to tell him he looked like shit (he did) but I thought it wasn't a nice thing to say. He said that it had to have been something he ate, and he was having terrible stomach pain. He asked for a ride downtown, and I gave it to him, he was a great friend, and he seemed really worn out. Then three days later I heard that he had died from aortic bleeding. so strange and hard to diagnose, and affects young people.
Comment by Morgan Bell
Science News
Deep Pencil
Business News
Movie Train
Artist Quirk
we still know so little about our own bodies - short of getting a full body scan once a week, there are so many conditions that just cant be predicted
im glad you have focussed your energy on researching and informing, it is good to keep occupied in times of disbelief and helplessness
your final line will make me remember this post forever:
Comment by RubySoho
Music Zone
Thought Zone
Sounds like the same thing. The last time I saw him my brother also said he was starting to feel better. His exact words were "I felt like shit on the weekend. I thought I was dying". I wonder why the symptoms seem to get better? It's a strange thing.
The only test that pick up an aortic dissection is an echo cardiogram. It's a specific test that is only administered when doctors are looking for an aortic dissection (unlike CT scans which are just checking for any abnormalities). My whole family has been advised to have the test done. I still haven't made my appointment. I don't know why. Part of me is like, if it's going to kill me then I'd rather not know. Imagine having surgery and not surviving it?
I'm sorry about your friend. I know exactly the shock and disbelief and utter grief you must have felt. It's like nothing I have ever experienced. When it happens to young people, it is just so hard to accept.
Comment by The Rusty Can
Everything
Take care, Ruby.
Comment by RubySoho
Music Zone
Thought Zone
yeah, I was pleased when I found this video on YouTube. Of course when I first came across it I didn't know that my brother was pretty much doomed. My intention was to advise people to go to a hospital at the first signs of chest pains. Then I learned that it would not have made any difference. Now I say, if there is a history of heart problems in your family. Have a full check up. CT scans, x rays, echo grams. The works. I have just decided to call my GP and book myself in for mine.
Comment by RubySoho
Music Zone
Thought Zone
Comment by samaritan
Fringe Faith
Samaritan's Stories
This was a very moving post. It almost had me in tears. I have no idea what you must be going through. I can't even imagine.
A friend of mine (not a close friend) died suddenly at the age of 42. It was completely unexpected. And I know her husband had a very difficult time, struggling with questions that there were no answers to. Eventually, he found some kind of peace. I hope you do too.
Samaritan
Comment by Chris Champion
LettersToNorm
moneywhither
Vyoos
Zoomies
Bloggercises
The Blog of Lists
Newly Old
Here are some words I read last night in a Joanna Trollope novel:
"Grieving is a journey," Dr Nichols said. "When you're through - and you will be one day, I promise you - you won't be in the same place you are now."
Comment by Norm
Consumption Malfunction
Equal and Opposite
Arses and Elbows
Footy Power
Comment by Kleonaptra
Kalikapsychosis
It frightens me deeply, as a defective valve is genetic in our family. My mum is now 60, and the valve has never failed, but she has a host of problems.
When my brother was 26, he complained of chest pains. The doctors said he was too young. He kept telling them - they wouldnt listen. He collapsed on the street, barely made it to hospital in time. The sawed him open and stopped his heart for 6 minutes to put in an artificial valve. He ticks as loud as a car indicator.
And I've had chest pains for the last 4 years. Im now 27. And they tell me I'm too young. When I tell them about mum and my brother, they say just because its genetic, it doesnt mean I have it. WTF? I think its a case of...
Like, they think if they never find it (by not looking for it) it cant be dangerous? I dont get it.
But I love this part
I believe in the universe too.
Again, I am sorry for your loss Ruby. Its amazing that you can even think of others that may have the same condition in your grief.
Comment by Deanna B
Experiencing deep loss can flood our minds with clouded and confusing thoughts...nothing seems "real" It's a magnitude of grief that can leave us completely empty and full of fear that others we love may be taken too.
It sounds like your sweet Brother passed away in a comfortable position...suggesting that he was indeed asleep. Still, there is your overwhelming sense of loss.
You are an eloquent writer,Ruby.When I read the part about how it kills you to know that
"somewhere out there, there is another young person who is a walking time bomb"...it occurred to me that you could author a pamphlet on Cardiac Tamponade,or an article for popular magazines or find a similar way to honour your Brother's memory and get the message out there. I really believe that when you are ready you will be able to make a substantial difference in drawing attention to the warning signs of this illness.You've already made a great start with this article.You may have already saved a life.
I believe that in time, your heart will not ache so much, and you and your Family will recover from this devastating blow. In time.
Comment by James Rickard
unlucky_ fishermen.com
Angling Fish
Check this out...
Comment by Janet Collins
Acceptable Etiquette
The Social Critic
Janet Collins Blog
My heart and my thoughts go out to you. Look after yourself during this time.
Comment by Cheryl J
Rhythmatism
Zentertainment
Budget Centsability
I hope you can take comfort in the fact that your brother went peacefully in his sleep.
Life is so precious but so fragile. All we can ever do is live our lives as fully as we can and always let the people we care about know we love them. It sounds like your brother loved you very much and knew how much you loved him too.
Comment by Cathy Setzer
Reality Mom
Movie Famous
The View From the Cheap Seats
Because I'm the Mommy, That's Why!
Comment by Dianna G
I Wish This Was 42
Fictional Worlds
That's an absolutely heartbreaking story. *Hug* I lost my dad, so I know what it's like to lose someone so close in your family-of course it's a different thing but the pain is equal.
It's so sad that there was nothing they could have really done for him.
Unfortunately people do die in many ways, some of which are sudden, unpredictable, and in some cases even entirely unstoppable.
This is a powerful post. It's beautiful in a sad way, and a story those who read it will most likely carry with them for the rest of their lives.
May your brother rest in peace.
~Dianna
Comment by Jeff Musall
Secular Humanity
Comment by RubySoho
Music Zone
Thought Zone
I'm glad my brother's story has the ability to move people. Thanks so much for your words.
Thanks Chris,
I already feel like a different person. I think my life will now be divided into before I lost my brother and after. I know that's probably not what the quote was alluding to, and I hope that works out that way for me and my family: that we manage to make our peace with this.
Thanks, Norm,
Nah, nat really. I still can't talk about it. I find it much easier to write it down...
Thanks jimmy,
I hope so and I'm sorry for your loss too...
Comment by RubySoho
Music Zone
Thought Zone
I'm really surprised that your doctors are brushing you off like that. We have been told by numerous GP's and specialists to get tests done, even if it's just to be on the safe side. It is more common in men though. And yeah, it was the randomness of it all that got me thinking and worrying about all the other people that experience something like this. And how there is almost no way to predict whether it can happen to someone you know (unless of course, it has already happened to someone in their family).
Thanks Deanna,
The thing about Cardiac Tamponade is that it is an emergency condition, not a disease in itself. That is, it's something that is caused by another factor- in my brother's cause it was a tear in his heart, so there is no real way to prevent it. The tear in my brother's heart could only have been found via an echo cardiogram, but since he had no history of heart problems and was so young no one ever thought to look. It's not really something someone can prepare for. And since it is rare, there is not much research going into it. Thanks so much.
Hi Cathy,
Thanks so much. It's nice to communicate with people who have experienced something similar. I hope it does get easier and that I can one day learn to look back and celebrate his life with a smile. And yes, I know he loved me, he was so full of love for everyone.
Comment by RubySoho
Music Zone
Thought Zone
Yeah you summed it up. this does feel like something I will never get over. And i don't ever want to forget. But I don't want to live in this darkness forever either. Somewhere in the middle perhaps...
Hi Cheryl,
I agree, my attitude to life has changed changed, or more precisely how I feel about my relationships has changed. You really don't know when something like this is going to come and knock you on your arse.
Thanks Jeff, for the compliment and for your concern! And yes, it's true, only the special ones are remembered in such a special way.
Comment by Anonymous
I have to put on the I AM OKAY FACE while I am at work, but inside I am always hurting and thinking of him.... we were very close but a few months before his death we had an argument and I was not talking to him and that is killing me..... the guilt I feel is unberable...
I also hurt for my 80 year old mother, he was the oldest BUT TO HER, HE WAS ALWAYS HER BABY.... I had to tell her that her only son was dead and I stood there as she screamed for her son!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I hope you take some comfort in knowing I share your pain AND I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE FEELING.... my life will never be the same....
Patty
Comment by Anonymous
The feelings you describe, particularly that feeling of standing outside yourself observing how you're coping, are still very haunting and familiar to me. It took a year of progressive healing to get over the biggest hump, but it still hurts five years later. The pain becomes more muted over time...more manageable. It is a sad void, Ruby, but you will get past it, as will the rest of your family. I'm surprised how well my mother has coped.
There is much detail I remember about my last conversation with him, our last words to each other, his last moments. But like you, I will always wonder if he was aware that he was leaving. (I believe he did know for reasons too long-winded to explain here.) I have learned that writing about him is part of my own healing process. You, too, must sense this in your own journey.
The loss of a sibling, particularly one with whom you are close, is a profound and deep wound that takes time to heal. You will be processing the emotion until the end of your own life, I suppose. But that is the beauty of this life, right? Embracing those loves while they're in our grasp, and releasing them when they have to go away. A challenge, no doubt, but one from which you will survive and grow.
Much love, many blessed memories to you and your family.
Ananji Hum