Uncle Jeff

The only father figure I have left, closest to my father is my Uncle Jeff - my father's brother. As of this moment, he is lying on a hospital bed in an intensive care unit, intubated because he cannot swallow, and on a ventilator because he cannot breathe on his own. He is not old, and, according to doctors, he is "healthy as a horse." They cannot find out what is wrong, so they continue to run test after test.

He is the best father I know to my cousins - to the point of envy. He's a retired cop working at a college. He plays softball. He is absolutely hilarious, high-energy, goofy, a runner.

He is going through a brutal divorce with my aunt. It's a he said she said kind of thing but it got to the point of his children - his world - despising him and siding with their mother. I realize there are two sides to every story. But she accused him of having a secret family....seriously? My uncle, the oddball goofy nerdy sickly kid growing up? The one who can't stop crying on the phone with me talking about all of this?

That took it too far. His own son wouldn't shake his hand at the courthouse during the divorce finalization. His daughter sent everyone a letter saying that he was a pig, a liar, etc. My family would definitely have known if he had some kind of secret life - especially if it included a child.

He lives in Waterbury, CT. Only my aunt's side of the family is there, and my two cousins. They have all completely turned on him.

Fast forward - he started drinking excessively to cope. It got worse over the past few months. He visited his sister (my Aunt Jacqueline) in NJ on Jan 20 - she noticed his trembling hands, his constant need for a drink, etc. They had a long talk - he agreed to get help. His job offers detox and rehab services to employees, so as soon as a bed opened, Jan 25, he went. He texted his son letting him know what he's doing, why, and could he communicate with him - his son replied that he was "such a drama queen."

He arrived. The rehab center quickly realized they couldn't handle his withdrawal symptoms as they were serious. They sent him to the hospital he's at now - which was two hours away. When he arrived, they gave him librium and diazepam or some kind of benzo, and a week later, Feb 1, my aunt texted me that he's not waking up and they discovered he cannot swallow.

They did a lumbar puncture (spinal tap) - normal. CT scan of the head, torso and groin - normal. Bloodwork - normal. He just had a low-grade fever.

The doctors said perhaps it's just that he's taking too long to come off of the drugs they put him on or perhaps it's an allergic reaction.

He started opening his eyes, and tried talking - things started looking up. Then the following day (yesterday), the doctor said they noticed he wasn't breathing on his own, so they put him in ICU, intubated him and put him on a ventilator. They said it could possibly be vasculitis (inflammation of the blood vessels, and in bad cases, the blood vessels break down, scar, and cause blockages leading to heart attacks, aneurysms, strokes, etc. and can be deadly). It all depends on where in the body it is, and what is causing it.

My aunt drives up from NJ daily to go and see him - the latest test is a 24-hour EEG to monitor his heart activity to detect any changes to see if they can pinpoint the issue. Another physician's assistant said he had a lung infection. While she was there, he actually opened his eyes - he responded to her by squeezing her hand, etc.

I am hoping to hear an update shortly. But I really hope he pulls through this. It's such a shame that he had the courage to reach out and seek help - and now he's in ICU breathing on a ventilator. Something doesn't add up.

I really don't want to lose him.