Rock is life, Simon's life

Excellent news from the ITU in the bowels of Mater Dei Hospital. Over the last twelve hours, my 35-year old nephew Simon, who suffered a massive heart attack on Sunday, made a fantastic recovery. He is conscious for the first time since Sunday. We're not out of the woods yet, but the sunlight is visible ahead.

When I was able to speak to him for the first time this morning, he was still groggy after four days of being pumped with sedatives. His first words to me were, 'This is weird, where am I'. I told him, 'What is weird is that you are pulling back to life. You are a rocker and rock is life.' He smiled gently, slowly lifted his hand and made the rockers' sign. It was one of the happiest and most beautiful moments of my life. 

By this afternoon he became much more alert and the jokes got blacker, as they do in our family. Although he's off sedatives, he's rigged up with an intravenous tube filled with morphine. The tube is linked up to a hand button and when he feels some pain he presses it to release a bit of morphine into his system. On seeing this I told him, 'Simon, this is a rocker's dream: drugs on tap'. I loved seeing his face mask fog up.

Jokes aside, I would like to thank everyone who visited, called or sent messages of comfort. There is no way I could repay your kindness. And I will never forget who you are.

On a final note, Simon lost his mother, my younger sister Sandra, when he was eight years old. Today, of all days, would have been her 54th birthday. Some things just don't have an explanation.