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Not Knowing

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The pain grew worse. I couldn’t feel a thing. Every inch of my body stung like a thousands of hornets rescuing their queen from the evil human. My stomach was on fire. Nothing but a burning volcano that can’t escape from the horrible walls of the mountain. My skin, pail as a ghost on Christmas day during the greatest of snow fall. My mother, lying at my bed with a cool rag waiting for my forehead. Her face, coated in tears, her body, stiff as a rake, and her heart, broken. I don’t know who felt worse, myself bursting with pain, or my mother, bursting with sorrows that I should get better soon.

It had been only one week since I became sick with some sort of flu. Only this wasn’t your ordinary flu or fever, this was hell. The burning, the stinging, and pain and suffering that I put on my mother. Not knowing if there was anything worse than hell. As it turns out, there is.

I had been to the doctor early that week. He took my temperature, he gave me physical exams, and he took my blood away from my body like a vampire. The needle clawing through my skin. It was a stream of red water, trying to stay inside to help me survive. It was helping me though. The blood would help the doctor to determine what was wrong with me.

Three days had past since my last visit to the doctor. He called my mother and I in so he could speak to us. We arrived at the doctors, my mother carried me inside as if I was a baby again. I was close, but walking and fully potty trained. He took us into the room reserved for me and closed the door behind him. My mother laid me down on the table so I could get some rest. I closed my eyes and fell asleep. I herd nothing. It had been a while since I hadn’t slept in weeks. It just added to the pain consuming my body like a lion consuming a wildebeest. I don’t know why, but if they don’t eat everyday, they go crazy. Anyway, I couldn’t hear a thing. I was dreaming of being well again. I had forgotten the feeling of being well again. It felt so real in my dream. I could walk on my own again, I could eat without vomiting, and I could laugh again. I made many friends only, they all had gun shots to their heads, and bloody wounds all over their bodies. I though maybe they were still waiting to get better but they weren’t. I was talking to an older man. He spoke in a soft voice. I can’t remember what he said, but I’m sure it was something that gave me the will to live.

Then I woke up. My eyes were wider than they had been in so long, I felt the pain again, crawling through my body, making me suffer for the longest time. I herd the doctor say one last thing to my mother. “ I suggest you take her to the hospital. They could find out what’s wrong.”

“ Thank you doctor. I’ll be sure to take her as soon as possible.” She got up from the chair and took two steps toward the table. “ We’re gonna go now sweetie, you’re gonna get better soon. Okay?” I nodded my head for I couldn’t speak. If I did it would cause more pain. I couldn’t stand anymore. It was cruel and evil. My mother lifted me up and carried me out to the car, and we sped off towards the home. Not where she was going, but she had to call my grandmother to let her know. My grandmother is like another mother to me. I’ve never had my father there to teach me but my grandmother is wise and amazing. She has helped to raise me throughout my life. My mother told her everything she needed to know about me.

It had been what felt like months. All I wanted was for the pain to go away. It lingered in my body. It was unbearable. I can’t tell you enough how it felt. It stays with you until it is finally killed by the hero.

A nurse walked in as my mother held me tight but soft in her cold arms. All I could hear from the nurse was, “ He’s on vacation. But he has someone filling in for him.” I fell asleep right after that. Nothing but blank for the next few hours. Until I awoke back at the house with my mother and grandfather.

My grandfather is like a father to me. He has taught me so much throughout my years. He taught me how to play, read, write, and talk. Anything I need, he’s right there by my side. I couldn’t ask for anyone better than my grandfather. I didn’t need a dad. I had a loving mother, a devoted grandfather, and a wise grandmother. I didn’t need anyone else.

I had been waiting for my mother to come to bed. I wanted to sleep in her bed that night and she let me. I was in my P.J’s and had brushed my teeth. Then, the room got blurry. It started spinning around like a Fairiswheel. As I tried to get to my mothers side of the bed my whole body started shaking. I fell to the ground not knowing what was happening to me. All I could feel was the drool streaming down my chin. Then, everything went black. I could hear nor feel nothing. All I remember after that was waking up, my head on my mothers bed while my body lay stiff on the floor. My head was turned to the right staring at the blurs of people surrounding me like a pack of wolves. Then, more black. That’s all I can remember of the night I almost died. Not knowing what had happened to me for the few years that went by, it hurt almost as worse as it did the week my life had flashed before my eyes. Turns out, there’s more to the story.

They never did find out what caused me to get so sick, but they did find out that I have asthma. That wasn’t the cause though. Remember who my doctor wasn’t there the day I went to the hospital. During the time I was asleep, the replacement doctor had to call my doctor and ask him what he should do. My doctor told him specifically to not give me any medicine until I’ve had a cat scan. Well, the replacement didn’t give me a cat scan. He prescribed medication for me and that is what cause me to shake, drool, and black out. I didn’t know this at the time, but I had stopped breathing. My entire body went limp. My pulse had no beat. It wasn’t its normal drum. It didn’t play for me. No tempo, no beat, nothing. Every tool in my body stopped working.

I was also told that if my grandfather hadn’t been there, I would be dead. When I stopped working, my mother froze. She couldn’t speak, think, or breathe. My grandfather ran into my mothers room and only had to push on my chest twelve times before my heart started racing again. My grandfather was releaved. My mother still couldn’t speak but she started bringing air back into her lungs. Me, I was still limp. I was breathing again but it was like I was paralized. I couldn’t move anything. I was a leaf. I blew freely in the wind, but could only move by force.

Thats when my grandfather called the ambulance. When I got to the hospital, I was hocked up to a machine. Wires and tubes everywhere. I was kept alive by a machine. Wrapped in a paperlike robe and my entire family surrounding the bed. I felt so loved. My aunt flew in from Arizona and my uncle drove in from Alabama. I had so many people supporting me. It was amazing.

To this day, I still breathe. I’m still loved by many people, and I consider my grandfather my own personal hero. He is a hero. He saved me from a death cruel and painful. My grandmother considers me a very young daughter. She’s there for me like a mother, and she loves me like a mother would. My mother is still my only mother. Sure, we get into arguments, but we always find a way to say sorry and let things go on.

I live a great life and I’m not going anywhere soon.





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