The car ride was quiet.. The energy in the car was awkward and very tense. A car ride to St. John’s that was in all reality 20 minutes, felt like 5 minutes. I have never been quite sure why it felt that way, and I’m sure I will never know. We parked in the emergency center parking lot, and started to fast walk to find my mom as soon as humanly possible.

As soon as we saw the waiting room for non-patients, we saw someone a woman sitting in a chair with one hand resting on her head, that was looking down to the ground, she looked a lot like my mom. After looking close enough, it was my mom. Although, this wasn’t the happy, fun-loving mom I knew. She was pale, stressed, and depressed. As soon as she saw me, she smothered me with a hug, and she started to cry even harder. I felt her tear drops on my shoulder, and that when it all became real to me. My little, five year old sister was in the hospital, and it was serious. Once my mother collected herself she said, “The doctor said she’s probably not going to make it.” I sat down in a chair, took a deep breath, cried, and started praying. I looked over at my father who said, “This is what I was afraid of. I told you guys! I told you.” He then sat down and started to cry. I never until that day had seen my dad cry. This was a wake up call and an immense reality check. I then realized that, life is short, my parents have emotions too, and bad things like this do happen to everyone.

As I was siting with my tears, in deep thought, I saw a swarm of doctors and nurses wheel a skeleton patient by quickly. That skeleton was my sister. She was as pale as a ghost. She was skin and bones. She was young and frail. At that sight I began ball my eyes out. The images in my head of her was nothing compared to what I had just seen.

After about an hour of waiting and my mom asking a million question to the lady at the front desk, Lydiah’s doctor walked out. He said, “Thankfully your daughters gonna be okay. Although, she is in the Intense of Care Area in a deep coma. There’s a a family room just down the hall with comfortable couches, beds, pillows, and blankets if you would like to spend the night. You are more than welcome.” My whole family began to cry tears of joy knowing that our beloved Lydiah was going to be okay.

My dad then said, “I think we all would like to spend the night, and thank you so much for everything.”

“It’s no problem at all. So if y'all will just follow me I can show you to the room.” The doctor said.

Once we got to the family room, we all sat down and immediately I wanted to see Lydiah. But, my parents thought it would be best for me not to see her that night and just to get some rest. Even though I was upset that they wouldn’t allow me to see her, I didn’t want to argue because I knew they were already stressed off the charts. I then laid down on the horribly hideous purple couch that was no where near comfortable. Although, I didn’t complain, at this time other things were way more important than my discomfort. The night was eventful, an emotionally stressful, shocking, and tiring. Even though we had many thoughts and fears racing through our heads, we all got at least 5 hours of sleep that night.

I woke up after a night of sleep that seemed to be 5 hours, but turned out to be 9 for me. It was mid-day and all I could here was my mom talking on her cell phone in the bathroom, informing all of our relatives about Lydiah. I looked around to find my dad, but he was no where to be found. I poked my head out into the hallway looked both ways; he was still no where to be found. I walked my way into the bathroom, opened the door as comfortably as possible and whispered “Where’s Dad?”

“He’s at home. He went to get some stuff,” she whispered back, trying not to interrupt her phone conversation.

“Oh, okay.” I said. I sat down for a while, and realized I was pretty hungry, I looked at the alarm clock and it was 12 o’clock. That was about my lunch time, so as patiently as I could waited for my mom to get off the phone. 3 minutes passed by, and I had had enough! Being a nine year old, hunger was always the worst feeling to me. I had broken arms, been through surgery, but hunger was the most discomforting pain I had felt in my whole life. I again started to head to the bathroom, but this time more fiercely. “Mom!” I shout. She annoyingly put up her pointer fingered indicated I had to wait a minute. I was done waiting! I had waited for three minutes, hadn't that been enough? “No! I’m hungry!” I said completely ignoring her one minute signal.

“Honey, I’m almost off the phone then we can go down to the cafeteria.”

“Ugh! Fine!” I was only so upset because “almost off the phone,” in mom language meant “give me another hour,” but surprisingly this time she was off in no less than four minutes.

The walk down to the cafeteria was quiet, so I began to ask questions about Lydiah. Questions like if she was going to be okay, how much longer would she be in a coma, how much longer were we staying in the family room, when was I going back to school, and many more. She uncommonly answered my questions patiently. As soon as we got to the cafeteria I was almost positive I had died and went to heaven. The food there not only smelled amazingly, but looked it too. After we had eaten, the St. John’s Mercy Hospitals‘ cafeteria was my new favorite place to eat. Yes, it’s an odd favorite restaurant but don’t judge a book by it’s cover!

When we got upstairs to our room my dad was waiting there with the doctor and they were having a what looked to be an intense conversation. When we walked through the doors, the doctor seemed to be relieved. I figured dad had been drowning him with medical questions; my dad is the type of guy to know everything about anything. I sat down on the couch and the doctor stepped outside into the hallway with my parents. I was worried because I didn’t know what the doctor was going to say, but at the same time I was mad because they wouldn’t let me into the conversation. The kid always gets left out! I mean I’m in the 3rd grade! I’m nine years old! I mean come on! I’ll be legally an adult in nine years! Although, maybe it’s to serious for a “children’s” ears. I thought while I sat and waited. It seemed that I had to learn patience here, because I was certainly not used to waiting.

My parents both walked back into the room, and their faces showed that they had some news. They were also both carrying what seemed to be a children’s book with multicolored puzzle pieces in the back and a giant cartoon pink panther in the middle of it. The book looked to think to be a children’s book though. So I asked, “What’s that?”

“Well sweetie, do you know what diabetes is?” my mom said.

“Yeah, it’s that one disease that you guys and the doctors told me I might get.”

“Mhm, so unfortunately that’s what Lydiah was diagnosed with. That’s why she’s in a coma right now. Cause it’s a diabetic comma.”

“Oh...” it took a while for all of this information to sink in, so there was a long pause. “Well what’s the book for then?” I asked again.

“It’s just like a guide for parents with children who have diabetes, it tells us stuff to do, how this is gonna change our life, and stuff like that.”

“Oh, well okay.” I said. I was still really confused as to what diabetes was, but it turned out that we were going to a “New to Diabetes Convention” the next day. So I wasn’t too worried about it. At this point in time I didn’t think the diabetes would effective our lives, but I was wrong.

That night I finally got the go ahead from the doctors and my parents to see Lydiah. Before I walked into her room, my mom bombarded me with the same question over and over again. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go in there with you?” And I replied with the same thing every time, “Yes mom, I’m sure.” Finally I stepped into her room, and walked over to the left side of her hospital bed. I looked at her body, so frail, and pale. It’s basically like she was dead, and at that sight I began to cry. Not many tears, but just enough to make my mom walk in to check on me. Usually her interrupting would have bothered me, but she strangely didn’t even get under my skin the nearest bit. I held her hand, and something inside of me compelled me to sing our favorite “sister song,” Together We Can by the cheetah girls. A few measures into the song, my sister recognized the sound of my voice, and I knew that because on her monitor her heart beat went faster, and her response level went up. I even felt her hand squeeze mine once her heart race went up. My mom started to cry and just said, “Sing more sweetie, she like it.” And that’s what I did. I never wanted to stop singing, ever. I never wanted to let go of her hand until she was out of her coma.

Time flew by fast, and I then realized that I had been singing to her for over an hour. The nurse knocked on the door and said, “Sorry to interrupt, but we have to give Lydiah her shots now.” A stopped singing, and let go of my sisters hand. That was the hardest thing I had ever had to do in my life. As I walked away a tear trickled down my cheek. I didn’t speak for the rest of the night to anyone but God. I prayed for a half an hour and went to sleep.

The next morning a familiar voice said, “Riahbell. Wake up!” I looked over and it was my Nana. I sprung out of bed and screamed,

“Nana!” We hugged and she said,

“I have some good news to tell you.” I remember thinking, the only good news you can tell me right now is that my sister is out of her coma and will be okay.

“What is it?” I said non-excitingly.

“Lydiah is out of her coma!” she said revealingly.

“What?! Are you serious!” I had never been so happy in my life, that not only my sister but my best friend was going to be okay!

My family, the doctors and nurses believed that my singing brought her out of her coma because my singing was extremely familiar to her. Which made some parts in her brain start to work better, which in result brought her out of her coma! This experience not only matured me, but taught me about life, and changed my views on life. I now believed in miracles. I now believe that bad things can happen to anyone. I now don’t take life for granted. Most importantly, I now have a stronger relationship with my sister. This depressing yet, real experience was very significant in my family and I’s life, it had changed our life’s forever.