Okay, so it's ironic that this happened today, I'll get to that later.
But anyway, my brother had been feeling a little under the weather, and had gone to bed pretty early (well....early for us at the moment is midnight). Anyways, I'm on the PC (looking up psychology and phobia therapy stuff, wouldn't you believe) and it must have been about half three in the morning (since it's 3:39am now) when he came out of his room, pale faced, and I was like "should I go upstairs?" and he mumbled something and wandered to the mini-bathroom we have in the garage (which is next to the computer room)
I thought "screw it, I'm waiting upstairs, I'm not ready to handle this yet". I went upstairs (rather calmly, not running away with my hands over my ears like I usually do and did as a child which I think is quite good for me) for a few seconds, and then came back downstairs.
Of course I came back too early, as I heard him cough and make a weird noise so I thought "eh, I'll go back up" and went back up and washed my hands (as you do) and then came back downstairs and was all like "hey, you ok?" and he came out and was like "jeeez" and I was like "did you v*?" and he was like "yeah." and suprisingly, I didn't panic as much as I used to. My panic level just sorta did a slight dull bump as opposed to the usual lightning bolt.
He said "I'm gonna get some water or something" so like, we both went upstairs, and I told him to sip, not glug, as you do. Anyways (I feel a bit bad for the slight rapid-fire questions) but it seems like he'd woke up feeling a little weird, and then he rode out on his bike (the weather has been unusually cold and rainy these past few days, and this is Spain we're talking about) and after he came back, he felt like he had a fever and his chest hurt, so he went to bed (and he tells me he had a dream about rapping with a bunch of black rapper people, he says he "always has weird dreams when he's ill" hahaha) and then woke up at about 3ish like I detailed before and you know the rest. He says he feels better now though, and just has a headache.
but yeah, I gave him the last of my Pepto-Bismol (which I'm surprised I did, as I don't usually hand out my anti-emet stuff, especially the last of it) and stayed upstairs with him, and didn't panic when he blew his nose, or washed his mouth out with water and spat the water out of the window. I did wash my hands afterwards (no biggie about that) and I had a minor panic attack (I was trembling even though I wasn't that scared, you know the post adrenaline tremblingness? I had that mildly, with a couple of butterflies in my stomach) but I KNEW that was just me panicking about him v*ing.
Also, usually my mother would have taken care of the v* stuff since the only thing she pretty much hates is snot, but she's in England at the moment (long story, parents have separated and we're all moving back to england since the "living in spain" dream is dead, my mother was the first to go back) so I was the one who had to deal with it, which was also a good test.
I even joked with him about it, he was sipping the water and went "oh no!" and pretended to v* again on the floor, and I pretended to walk up to it and slip in it.
I also feel better for myself since my first thoughts when I ask him "do you feel better now" aren't because I think "oh no he might v* again" but because I genuinely wanna know if he feels better (since we might be going out tommorow to get his guitar set up)
And usually, I wouldn't be able to calm down for the whole night, but here I am, typing this out, calm as anything. He's in the room behind me, sleeping well. I'm even writing about it and not freaking out, which is miles from what I was like a year ago.
so yeah, a triumph?
(also I call this ironic because today I was looking on here and thinking about how I'm gonna do a medical or psychological degree (I have yet to enter uni) and become a p