WAKE UP WOO!

For the past five days, I've been struggling, trying to come up with something mind-boggling to say about Trevor's recovery, my spiritual learnings or anything along those lines. Clearly, I've found nothing. Not because Trevor hasn't progressed and not because I haven't been enlightened by millions of little occurrences each day, but because I don't know the words to express what I'm feeling or what's going on at the hospital.

During the past couple months, I've made it seem like I actually thought Trevor was going to recover from this. By convincing all of you guys that he was going to be fine, I thought I would also convince myself. But I was wrong. I honestly never thought that Trevor was going to survive this; I never thought that he would be the Trevor Rhoda that we've all come to know and love. And I think that's why I was struggling so much, ignoring my life to spend time with him.

But things are different now. I may be over-optimistic, but I'm absolutely convinced that Trevor is going to pull through and return to normal. Eventually. I have no idea how long it's going to take-- a month, a year or a lifetime-- but I know he's going to be fine. Even though he still struggles with communication, his personality is all there...

He still looks at his friends and tries to be the cool tough guy, despite the fact that he's completely vulnerable, lying in a hospital bed. He tries to act all nonchalant when they enter the room, like them being there isn't the highlight of his day. He still laughs at their jokes but rolls his eyes when they say anything remotely serious.

He still looks at my mom like she's babying him and tries to hide his sincere gratitude for everything she's done. He still wants her to think that he's independent and can get by without her, but knows deep-down that he can't. When he wakes up, he still looks over to make sure she's there, and has a look of relief when he realizes she's been sitting there the entire time. He knows that he wouldn't have come this far if it weren't for her, fighting like hell, with his best interest in mind.

He still looks at me like his pestering little sister, pretending to be annoyed but then eventually cracking a smile or laugh. When my friends or his friends come around, he still tries to convince everyone that he's cooler than me. He still refuses to give me a hug or tell me he loves me (even though he did both at the bar three days before his accident). Truth is, I'm still his baby sister and always will be. Even though I've had to spend the past two months taking care of him-- helping him eat, go to the bathroom, etc.-- I still look up to him. I still want to grow up and be just like him, because he's my brother and I love him.

He's still Trevor, and nothing-- not even two traumatic brain injuries and six brain surgeries-- will take that away.