“I love you,'' I said as I embraced my older brother for what I feared would be the last time. Only a month prior, doctors had discovered that the right side of his heart was enlarged, there was a hole in the middle of his heart, and he had anomalous pulmonary veins. When we first found this out, shock overtook us. How could it be that my brother, the valedictorian and a three-sport athlete, have such a condition? Even more perplexing is how it went undetected until the winter of his senior year.

As we pulled into the hospital at 6 am, the uncertainty of the future loomed over us. It would be a 7-hour surgery and the outcome could change our lives for the worst. Everyone in the waiting room was nervous, their feet tapping and palms sweating. Everyone except for my brother. I will always remember his calm, worry-free demeanor as he quietly waited for his name to be called. 

“Joseph,” came the voice of a nurse. This was the last moment I had with my brother before his surgery began. As I said goodbye, my normal warm smile exhibited itself, but on the inside I was cold and scared. I stepped into the elevator that would take us to the family waiting room, and as the doors closed I couldn’t help but wonder if that would be the last time I saw him. I knew I had to be strong, and that I couldn’t let myself cry. The next 7 hours would be tough, but I had my family to help me through it. 

After what seemed like an eternity, we were greeted by the surgeon. To our relief, the operation was successful. When I finally saw my brother in the ICU, all my worries drifted away. He was pale and had tubes connected to his chest, but I knew he was safe now… or at least I thought he was. That night became a testimony to the strength of my brother, to the amazing work of nurses, and to the importance of blood donations. I was home for the night, but my parents were still at the hospital. My dad had been talking to Joey when suddenly his eyes rolled into the back of his head. From the hallway came bells and sirens, which brought with them a wave of nurses to the room. Confused and scared, all my parents could do was watch as their son was on the brink of death. Nurses scrambled to find the problem and fix it, and I am so grateful that they did. His heart had gone into arrhythmia, causing it to beat irregularly, and too much blood was draining through his chest tubes. My brother’s blood pressure had dropped to fatal levels, but luckily he held on long enough for the medical staff to save him. 

Every day that week I looked forward to going to the hospital so that I could be with my brother. I would tell him about my day at school and he would tell me about his in the hospital. Some days were better than others. Some days he struggled and his blood pressure would fluctuate like it did the first night. After a week it seemed like he had made progress. Unbeknownst to me, however, my brother’s condition was declining. When I arrived at the hospital that Friday night, I was told the horrible news. My brother needed to return to the operating room for a second open-heart surgery. His heart wasn’t pumping effectively due to a large blood clot. The past week was a rollercoaster of emotions, and now we would have to endure it all over again. I was scared, but my hope overrode it. I knew he was strong and that everything would be okay. 

Just as I’d told myself, the second operation was as successful as the first, and my brother was soon on the road to recovery. The following week was brighter than the previous one, with less complications and setbacks. My brother was able to take longer walks and do more on his own. He even prom-posed to his girlfriend with a heart-shaped pillow that read “Don’t go breaking my heart, I just got it fixed”. The nursing staff adored it. That week came to an end with his return home, which was a huge relief to us all. The first thing Joey and I did when we got home was play video games, and that’s when I knew I truly had my brother back.