There’s a common saying “sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me”, but I feel that that’s not necessarily true- at least, not for me. Despite the saying, which someone made up to suit their fancy, the words haven’t held true for me, not yet anyway. Whether it’s because I’m more sensitive to things as I witness the medical procedures and tribulations that Anni goes through, or maybe I’m just a hot-headed person, I do not know. Maybe it’s both. As I write this, I’m pretty sure it’s the first, but it may be the second as well.

I am never the one whose feelings are hurt, the one who the remarks are directed to, the one who faces the sharp truth. But I am the bystander, the one who sees and helps and comforts. In third grade, we were in the church choir (quite wholesome, I know) and it was the first day of practice. We were nervous and excited, and the choir director asked us our names, and our ages. Julia, Anni, and I eagerly responded. The old church lady sized us up, and loudly exclaimed, about Anni, “Isn’t kindergarten a little young for choir?” We explained that she was of eligible age, and though we stayed that day, we did not go back.

Last year, we were trick-or-treating and at some of the houses the adults giving out the candy asked, in not the most tactful way, if that was Anni’s “real voice”. That too was hard to face.

Once, I heard from a good friend that one of their friends said they were “having a seizure”, in jest, as they don’t know what it’s like. When I hear comments like that, it makes me mad, although I try to not show it. They don’t know about what I have seen, heard, felt. When I was about seven, I remember an ambulance coming to our house for Anni in the morning, and I didn’t understand why.

When I was ten, I watched Anni struggle against tubes going down her throat for a surgery, feeling so helpless and wishing with a burning passion that I could just take her place. That same year I awoke to Dad running up the stairs, calling for reinforcements.

Anni woke up that morning and was going to go on the computer when she fell and had a seizure. I was really worried, and saw Anni looking very pale, without much life. I wanted to help, but the only thing I could do was wait, worry and occupy my little brother, for nobody wants to be seen like that. Later, with the help of sugar and other fast-acting carbohydrates, she recovered. But it is something I will not forget.