Institutionalised

I didn't get to speak to my brother for very long tonight because of some confusion over what happened to his electric razor. The hospital staff seem to have played pretty loose with his belongings and now it's "gone missing". Oh I'll just bet. But it was long enough to tell that he sounded about a hundred times better than he did even two days ago. The rantyness had gone, but in its place was an uncanny sullenness. He actually asked to end the call after a few minutes, something I don't think has happened before in years.

But today he laughed. It's been at least a week since I last heard him laugh. He wanted to hear amusing stories from my front-desk shifts, so I shared the most recent one: An older gentleman asked why I wasn't wearing a tie and I said, "I haven't worn a tie in years except for funerals." "Was it a tryout for yours?" he responded. "WHAT?!" said my brother. "Yeah, that was my reaction," I told him.

Although he didn't go on about his delusions, they don't seem to have changed much. He still believes he's done something unforgivable to his sister and she doesn't want to speak to him. She does, but when Mom suggested it today, he said, "Maybe in a year." For her part, Mom's been working off some serious guilt at not being there for her children: she's been back every day except the day after she checked him in, when she was exhausted, often for hours at a time. She was there when I called today, both times. (They needed the razor so she could shave his head.)

Dad called for the first time today, which is about fucking time. He lives less than a half-hour away; no word on whether he plans to visit. We all wanted my brother to check himself into the hospital for his own good, so I worry that, having done that, he's feeling that we've forgotten about him. I should be doing a much better job of calling him than I have--yesterday I blew it off completely.