RIP, Scott (1964-2008)

Saturday morning my mom called to tell me that my oldest brother, Scott, was in the hospital. It was serious.

Friday night, my two older brothers went to dinner together. Right after eating a steak dinner, Scott had a massive heart attack. We made the family decision to not let him suffer. My other brother, Curt, lived with Scott and it was what he wanted. Scott's organs were shutting down despite the life support machines.

In January 2007, my mom was diagnosed with cardiomyopathy. Friday night, my parents found out that Scott was also diagnosed with the same heart condition last year. Scott did not have health insurance, so he was not lucky enough to receive the same care as my mother. He had stents put in because the defibulator was denied. According to Curt, Scott did take his condition seriously and quit his vices cold turkey: smoking and drinking.

Unfortunately, my family is not close. It has been YEARS since I've spoken with my brothers. No reason, unlike my parents not speaking either of their sons. My parents actually live only 3 blocks from my brothers, but did not know it.

I made an effort several times over the years, but nothing ever panned out. We were never raised that family is important. That "simple" concept is something that I learned at the age of 24, when I met Rick.

Scott COULD have been alive today if my family wasn't so stubborn and prideful. We could have worked together to make sure Scott received the proper care. We could have shared information. We could have supported him, emotionally and financially.

None of that happened. There were no final words of love spoken btwn Scott and us, his family. Scott has a son who is incarcerated and will not find out about his dad until today), but he wasn't married. He didn't have a girlfriend either. Curt lived with him to assist him because Scott had another heart surgery and hernia surgery this past summer. Still no insurance.

There are a lot of regrets and guilt. I cannot imagine what my parents are going through right now. My mom, sister and I stayed once the morphine drip started and the machines were turned off. My dad and Curt had to leave for it, it was their way of coping, too. I held his right hand when his heart beat for the last time. I don't remember the last time I'd held my big brother's hand, but even after all these years, it was still bigger than mine.

Hopefully, Scott knew and is at peace. There has only been forgiveness. I pray Curt lets us into his life, even after the memorial. I don't want him going down that lonely road.

The Last of Sheila (Coburn)