Milking My Brother

Thursday

"Trust me, Alice. I've considered the other options and this is the only way ..."

My Mom was in a state of distress, hurling clothes into the un-sandwiched suitcase on her bed.

"I have to fly to be with your Grandma," she said, "so I'm afraid Jacob will have to go back to the rehab center until I can come home. Or at least until his eye-bandages come off."

She threw a pair of jeans at me from seven feet away.

"But Jacob hated the rehab center!" I said, folding and packing them neatly into her case. "That's why we got him out of there. He's only been home a week. It's not fair to send him back. He's just beginning to seem like his old self."

"What else can I do?" Mom said in despair. "You know we can't afford home nursing. And your brother is still healing. He can't see or use his hands. He needs assistance."

"What if I do it?" I asked. I'm not sure I thought about it before blurting it out.

"That's a sweet thing to offer, darling. But the responsibility is too big for you."

"It's the summer vacation. What else am I doing? Hanging around the house like a spare part? Let me help out!"

"You have cheerleader practice ..."

"It's one hour, twice a week! At Traci's house three blocks away. Hardly a full time job."

"It's not just that," Mom said. "It's also not fair on you, sweetheart. There are intimate tasks involved that aren't appropriate for a brother and sister. I don't want to put you in an unseemly position."

"You mean like wiping his ass?"

"No, he has the bidet for that. But spoon-feeding him meals, dressing his wounds, keeping his body clean ..."

"You've been doing it. Why is it any less weird for you?"

"I'm his mother. We are beyond embarrassment by now."

She picked up her make-up bag from a poor angle and the lipsticks and mascaras fell out onto the floor.

"Well, I'm his sister and I'm beyond it too," I said, rushing to help her pick them up. "And if the choice is Jacob being able to convalesce in his own bed, or go back to that grim place, I'll take one for the team and look after him. It's not like he's helpless. He can walk. His arms work. It's only his hands."

"He's blind, darling! There are so many things that can go wrong."

"Then I would call you! Or drive Jacob to the hospital. We're both adults! And it's not like he can't communicate to me what he needs."

"Okay, listen ..." She finally stopped multi-tasking and took me seriously for a moment. "If you honestly think you can accept the responsibility, I guess I could see if Jacob would be OK with you looking after him. I mean, he did hate the rehab center. And you know I didn't trust that Ward Sister ..."

"So I will be his Ward Sister at home. We're a family, Mom. And we're going through a tough time. And while Grandma is sick with her heart and Jacob is messed up from his accident, it falls to you and me - the able-bodied members of this household, to take care of them both. So I'll sleep on it, but I'm not going to change my mind. As long as Jacob's OK with it, I'll take care of him until you get back."

Mom paused her frantic, anaerobic packing to give me a hug.

"You are such a wonderful sister to him," she said, "and an asset to your father and I." Her eyes grew misty with tears, as they inevitably did when she invoked my dead father.

"We'll get through this together," I promised. "As a family."

Friday

I didn't change my mind overnight.

I'd meant what I said and Jacob was fine with it. He didn't want to go back to the rehab and because I'd volunteered for the task of his care personally, he felt nothing but grateful and relieved.

However, when Mom was talking me through the list of requirements the next morning, I'd be lying if I didn't say it seemed a bit daunting. She'd prepared a large dossier with all the details and timings of his care schedule.

It wasn't just administering his medications. I had to exchange the bandages on his eyes every few days, dress the wound on one of his hands (the one that wasn't wrapped in plaster). And then there was the cooking, grocery shopping and washing up. Not to mention keeping him clean ... It was a lot.

I'm not a lazy person, and I really did want to help out. But I realized I could kiss goodbye to the last few weeks of relaxing summer vacation. I had to remind myself it was a small sacrifice compared to what Jacob himself had to go through - not to mention my Mom and poor Grandma.

It was my familial duty to help them out.

***

My brother Jacob is a very cool guy and I adore him.

He is 21 years old - not quite 2 years older than me. He always had my back growing up. He is an extremely strong, masculine dude. A whopping 9 pounds at birth, he's always been taller and more robust than his peers.

He qualified for the football team a year earlier than any of the other guys at school. He is super athletic, and excelled at almost all sporting activities, but especially gymnastics.

His physique was the envy of the school while he was a student - not to mention an object of desire for my friends on the cheerleader team. They would still now make not-so subtle allusions to his bedroom blue eyes, washboard abs, and bulging pecs.

To such an extent, in the case of one friend, that I had to ask her to stop objectifying him:

"You know he does have a personality too," I said one day to Traci, our hot cheerleading captain, "a really wonderful one!"

"Yes, but have you seen his cock?" she asked. "Because if you haven't babe, I don't want to hear about personalities."

"I'm his sister, I don't want to see his cock!" I insisted.

I didn't dare mention that Jacob had always a crush on Traci, because what guy didn't.

"What's wrong with you? A cock is a cock. I don't care who it belongs to," said Traci. "But you must have seen it by mistake one day. When he walked out the shower, or you caught him jerking off on the couch."

"I haven't seen it since we grew up," I said angrily, "something you don't seem to have done yet - even though you're older than me! And Jacob is too sweet a guy for me to let you reduce him to a body."

"Yeah, right," said Traci, as she squeezed her colossal boobs into the shiny, foiled-covered spandex of her cheerleader top. "Because nobody does that to us do they?"

***

Don't get me wrong. It wasn't that I was grossed out about hearing how gorgeous Jacob's body was - although no sister wants to think about her brother's six pack, let alone his junk. But he was such a warm, genuine guy. I felt the need to protect him.

There was nothing arrogant or conceited about Jacob. Even though he was better at most things than everyone else. He was one of the kindest people you could meet. And although he was aware of his strength and athleticism, he didn't covet it in that vain way that so many bodybuilder-type dudes do. He just loved participating in sports. Our Dad used to joke he'd been born under a balance beam.

Another one of Jacob's favorite pursuits was horse riding and he was a strong rider; although this pastime had also led to his accident. He'd fallen from a huge, jittery Percheron - one that we later decided he should never have been given to ride.

The skittish horse had tossed him head first into a bush at great speed. Jacob had put out his arms out to protect his head, and upon landing, had managed to badly break both his hands, one of his wrists and one forearm. And if this wasn't horrifying enough, the bush he'd landed in was a Crown of Thorns which almost blinded him by scratching both of his retinas.

Thank God he had not permanently lost his sight. The doctors were confident his vision would recover. But in order to let his eyes heal properly, they were bandaged shut for what was ultimately going to be a six-week period.

The night we received the news of his accident from the riding school, Mom and I had completely freaked out. We didn't know the extent of the damage at that time and were confused by the lack of details.

I cried myself to sleep that night, thinking we might lose him. But I don't think it was ever a possibility. He certainly could have lost his eyesight forever, or been paralyzed.

It was common for his nurses to remind us how lucky he'd been whenever we went to visit. But how luck could have anything to do with his plight was beyond me. Although I did feel grateful he wasn't more badly injured.

Jacob's mood was pretty upbeat at first, while he was in hospital. I felt like he bounced back much better than I would have in the same situation. He would laugh and joke around with us each day on our visits to see him.

He never really complained about not being able to see or use his hands, even though the injuries regressed him to a baby in terms of what he could do for himself. Even sitting up in the hospital bed was difficult at first, although he became adept at using his elbows to maneuver himself.

It was when he was transferred from the hospital to the rehabilitation center that things started to go downhill. It wasn't a very good facility - we couldn't afford a private one. It smelled of Lysol and death, and the staff were visibly overworked and stressed.

Jacob didn't have a television in his room to listen to. We bought him audiobooks and podcasts and would play games with him when we visited, but he began to grow uncharacteristically depressed and sad. It just about broke my heart.

When the option was discussed that he might check out of the rehab center and be looked after by Mom at home (she's a schoolteacher and had the summer vacation free), it lifted his spirits no end. In fact, he became his lovable old self from almost the first night he arrived home. He dealt with his physical limitations and pain like a trooper. Mom and I were so proud of him.

We had to borrow all these special items from the hospital for his home care - like a portable bidet he could operate with his foot, and this button-device he could push with his elbow to alert Mom when he needed something. We also installed a special metal rack in the shower (a bit like a chin-up bar) that could keep his bandaged hands dry while he was being washed.

***

As I sat with Mom that morning, going through the itinerary of his needs, I tried not to let her see I was feeling intimidated. There was an almost exhausting amount to learn. I knew it was going to be a steep curve. And even though Mom had prepared a ring binder (longer than a dishwasher manual in two languages), I couldn't pretend I grasped it all perfectly. I will learn on the job, I thought. How hard could it be?

She spent a good hour longer than necessary going through each point twice, and almost made herself late for her flight by insisting on summarizing them all again.

"OK, I've got it, Mom. And it's not like Jacob can't tell me what he needs."

"I just want to make sure everything is covered for my peace of mind," she said.

"It's OK, Mom, you go and take care of Grandma. Give her a big hug from us."

"You have no idea how much I appreciate you," she said, giving me a kiss.

She climbed into the taxi; her pale, panic-stricken face peering at me through the glass like a phantom. And then she was gone.

The house fell quiet.

I was relieved to be free of her anxious energy - her incessant fussing was more exhausting than the list of tasks themselves. But when I glanced again at the open ring binder listing the magnitude of the day's schedule, I realized my work was just beginning.

The first task was to give Jacob his 11 AM medication. It was almost time, so I went up to his room and tapped gently on the door.

"Come in," he said cheerfully. He was listening to an audiobook and asked Alexa to pause its progress.

"Hi buddy," I said. "It's your new nurse! Not quite as professional as the last one. But these are hard times."

He laughed.

"I really appreciate you doing this Alice," he said. "I couldn't face going back to rehab. The inmates would scream in the night!"

"I know," I said. "None of us wanted you going back there."

"I really owe you one," he said.

"It's nothing. It's what any sister would do."

"I promise I'll be respectful, and not just bug you all the time for things."

"I'll believe that when I see it!" I said, laughing.

"And apologies in advance for when it gets a bit awkward," he said.

"Please don't worry about it," I said. "The most important thing is that I don't have to wipe your ass!"

He laughed. "Yeah but you still have to wash it!"

I laughed. "I can handle that. I can point the shower-head up there and look away!"

He laughed again.

"I'm glad you've got it all planned out!" he said. "It was one of the only good things about not being able to see. When Mom was washing me I could try and pretend it was anyone else!"

"I bet!" I laughed. "I'm gonna place these two pills on your tongue and then I'll hold up the glass for a sip of water, okay?"

"Got it."

He stuck his tongue out obediently and I placed the pink capsules on top.

"And now the drink," I said. "It's coming through a straw..."

He clasped his lips around the end and took a sip of liquid to swallow the pills.

'Good boy!" I said, chuckling. "Now is there anything else you need? You want to come and hang downstairs with me?"

"I'm good for now, thanks," he said. "I'm just listening to a podcast."

"Ok, you want me to press play on it for you?"

"Sure," he said, "And can you leave the water on the bedside cabinet? I can usually find the end of the straw by myself, so I don't have to bother you every time I want a sip."

He was already trying to minimize my work, bless him. It reminded me how low maintenance he'd always been, and how I shouldn't feel daunted by any of this because he would be there to guide me.

Sure enough, the rest of the day wasn't too bad. I started to get into the swing of my new nursing role and was pleasantly surprised at how many skills my brother had acquired. He could get himself to the upstairs bathroom from his room, and Alexa and Siri were able to control his phone and home entertainment requests.

A couple of times I went to visit him, or called upstairs, to ask if he wanted a cup of tea or a snack. On both occasions he said yes, and I noted how unassuming it was that he hadn't asked for these things but had waited to be offered.

Feeding him chocolate chip cookies was a unique experience. It was quite fun actually - despite the fact we discovered it creates extra crumbs when a person bites into a cookie they are not themselves holding. The hot tea required even more creativity to prevent his lips from burning when I tipped it into his mouth. I had to feed it to him in teaspoons like a soup.

We laughed a lot which made everything seem easier. Jacob's relaxed manner helped me feel less inept than I might have otherwise done. Although I remained confident my nursing qualification was still some distance away.

I carefully escorted him down the stairs for his lunch, and in the afternoon he lay on the couch listening to sports on TV. I changed the bandages on one of his hands, which was quicker and easier than I'd expected. But I wasn't prepared for the gnarly sight of his ghostly yellow fingers, riddled with pins; it looked like the hand of a cadaver, or Frankenstein's monster.

It was upsetting to see how little he could move his fingers. My heart felt sore for him all over again, that he had to go through this. It was almost a blessing that he couldn't see the extent of his own injuries.

That night I made us a surprisingly delicious supper that Jacob enjoyed multiple servings of, and said was even better than Mom's cooking - he may have been being kind. But it was much appreciated.

All in all, it hadn't been a bad day; albeit a long one. And when Mom called us from Grandma's, having arrived safely that night, she sounded surprised and delighted to hear how well it was going:

"What did you expect, Mom?" Jacob said. "That she was going to kill me?"

"You know how much I worry," said Mom.

And we very much did, so we let it go.

"How's Grandma?" we asked.

"She's better than expected," Mom said. "She's able to do quite a bit more than you, Jacob."

"Well, Grandma still has her eyes and hands!" my brother said defensively.

"True," said Mom. "But she's not out the woods yet. I'm having to urge her to try and rest for a few days. Your Gran can be her own worst enemy."

"We love you Grandma!" we shouted at the end of the call, when Mom had put her on speaker: "Get well soon!"

It was around 9.30 PM when we hung up the phone. I knew from the ring binder there was only one remaining task for the day, which was to shower Jacob and get him into bed. And then my humble duties would be over until the next morning.

"OK then," I said. "Bath time buddy! You're going to have to talk me through how this works."

"It's pretty simple," he said.

I detected a note of embarrassment from him, but it didn't feel awkward. At least not yet.

I escorted him carefully up the stairs and into the bathroom.

"Alright, so how do we do this?" I asked. I tried to sound as formal as a nurse, to put myself at ease as much as him.

"Well, the shower has this metal rack at the top," he said.

"I know! I've been banging my head on it all week!"

He laughed. "Sorry about that!"

"So you should be!" I said.

"There are these protective gloves that should be hanging somewhere in here. And we are gonna put those on first," he said. It was terribly sweet that he said 'we'. "And then I rest my elbows up on the rack to keep my arms dry, and just stand under the shower like normal."

"OK," I said. "That doesn't sound too complicated."

I couldn't help but feel things were already a bit less awkward than I'd anticipated, not least because I realized he'd be facing away from me in the shower. In my mind this would provide an additional buffer of comfort from the prospect of having to see my brother nude.

"So I basically then just have to lather you up?" I asked.

"Yes. And help me get dry and dressed."

"How did Mom keep herself from getting wet?" I asked, wondering how I was going to carry out the duty without drenching myself in the process.

"To be honest, I don't know," he said, "because I couldn't see! She seemed to have a system. I know she would direct the shower head away from me when she applied the soap. But I don't know the rest of her method."

"Well, okey-dokey then," I said. "Let's get you undressed."

"Sounds good."

"This is not weird at all," I added for good measure. "Nothing I haven't seen before."

He laughed, sounding a little uncomfortable.

"Let me just turn the water on first, so the temperature's right," I said.

I started the jets of the shower and waited for it to get hot, but not scalding.

"You ready?" I said.

"Yep."

He lifted his arms in the air for me to remove his T-shirt. It wasn't that easy because he was so tall. But he kindly squatted down a few inches so that I could peel it off. The next moment he was shirtless - his boulderous shoulders, sculpted biceps and carved abs unleashed, in the intimate space of the bathroom with his younger sister.

I must admit I marveled a little at his chiseled physique. He hadn't been able to work out for several weeks but he was still in such good shape. I could exercise for 12 weeks straight and not look anything like as strong or shredded. No wonder my friends lusted after him, I thought. Not that my own feelings had anything to do with attraction. I was just objectively impressed by his athleticism.

The long, weird plastic gloves were hanging to dry in the corner of the bathroom. I placed the absurd items over his hands. They were like arm-length sleeves made from umbrella material. And once they were on, they rendered him even more disabled because they were so cumbersome that he had to hold his arms away from his body.