Yesterday at work I got a call that they were going to take him off life support. Luckily my boss is very understanding and let me go, so I went to the hospital at about 2 in the afternoon. 2 of his other friends were there. Everyone else showed up later--there were quite a few of us. His mom and aunt came in, but weren't happy that we were there; they wanted us all to leave the hospital. Seeing as how his mother hasn't been the best to him, and there are other issues between he and her, we didn't; especially because she didn't ask us for a few moments with him, she just stalked out and glared at all of us without saying anything, and started raising a ruckus with the nurse. How incredible. His dad came down (they're long separated) and sat with her until the doctor came in at 6.
Apparently there was some discussion about whether or not to take him off life support--dad said yes, mom said no. She won, and the decision was to leave the machines on but not to make any resuscitation attempts if anything should go. Carrie, who is Brian's old friend and significant other (odd story) and I are the only two who agree--everyone else thinks he should be let go of his suffering. I stayed until about two, and just woke up. I didn't plan to sleep late, but Carrie stayed the night and when I called, said he's slightly more alert, and still stable.
Knowing Brian, who is a fighter, we are glad that the decision was made the way it was; even if he does go, we'll have more time with him, and he is beyond pain. Also, as a firm believer in lost causes, I like to hope that maybe he won't go just yet. He's strong and stubborn and aside from the cancer he's healthy and stable. His vital signs are still stable and strong, so he's not slowing down or slipping; all organs (kidneys, etc) are functioning; his lungs are clearing; the fever was getting high, but not as high as it had been; his blood pressure, heartbeat and breathing are strong and the machines aren't doing it for him yet, just supporting him. Even though I'm realistic to know it's a slim hope, miracles can happen. Something in me just doesn't want to let go.