22 Sep My brother
My oldest brother, Blake, was six years my senior. Despite our age difference, he never made me feel like his annoying little sister. He taught me how to tie my shoes when I was four and to play basketball in our driveway, how to fight properly should I ever need it, and even how to string together rhymes to make my own raps. He always had a knack for fashion and whenever I wore something that he bought me I would get compliments. He was also my cheerleader. When I graduated from high school, Blake’s shout — “Go, Little Kaykay!” — echoed off the walls and was the loudest in the massive auditorium. He truly was the best big brother a little sister could ask for.
At 18, Blake moved to Vancouver, a big move for a kid who grew up in a small town in the Kootenays, but he loved the city life and his job installing marble countertops. At 24, he returned to school to pursue a business degree. Near the end of his first semester, he developed psychosis.
Blake was eventually diagnosed with schizophrenia after being admitted to a locked psychiatric unit. I was in my first year of university. For the next six years, despite his diagnosis, he seemed like the same big brother I had always known. He worked as a landscaper, continued to excel in sports like martial arts, completed some more college courses, always phoned and sent gifts on birthdays, and came home each year to celebrate holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas. He loved his family and friends deeply.
But his diagnosis and my concern were always there. It was part of the reason I wanted to become a doctor. I attended medical school at the Northern Ontario School of Medicine. During my third year, I flew to Vancouver for a weekend to interview (unsuccessfully) for a Rhodes scholarship, and had breakfast with Blake. He was late, which wasn’t like him. He was profoundly tired and seemed off, not the usual Blake, but I couldn’t figure out what was wrong. He didn’t talk much and, because I was nervous about my interview, neither did I. We hugged, said goodbye. That was the last time I ever saw my brother “well.”
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