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Learning To Cope

By , Destrehan, LA
I walk in, see my mom weak.
“Mom, what’s wrong?”
“Don’t worry about it. I can’t feel my legs.”
“Mom, that’s not good.”

I ask my mom to pick me up from school.
School ends; she’s not there... again.
“Mom, where are you?”
“Oh, I’m sorry I forgot!”

I wake up; my mothers in bed still.
“Mom, what’s wrong?”
“I’m catching something.”
“This is the third time in two weeks though.”

Mom and Dad keep going to the doctor.
They keep their secrets from us.
My sisters ask, “What’s wrong with mom?”
I reply, “She’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Inside, I know she’s not well.
I know something’s wrong.
I will not show I’m scared.
I have to be strong.

Finally, my mom tells me.
“I’m sick. I have a disease called MS.”
I feel relieved; I know what’s wrong.
Then, I realize I have no idea what this is.

I research this disease.
I become inquisitive about it.
I realize what this all really means.
I become strong for her and my family.


My family worries for her,
But, we don’t let her know.
This monster is unpredictable.
I’ve lost some of my freedom.

I gained more responsibility.
I tend to her care like I’m her mom.
I help with my siblings, like I am their mother.
I deal with this differently than my family.

I’ve never told her how I’m nervous.
I’ve never told her how I truly feel that I too may suffer from this.
I’ve never told her how strong she is, and
I’ve never told her how proud I am.

I’ve never told her that I’m angry.
I’ve never told her that this depresses me
To know we cannot afford her treatment,

I’ve never told her that I’m here no matter what.
I’ve never told her that she can get through it,
Just don’t give up, for me, for her and for our family.

The research is not enough for me.
I want answers and I want a cure.
This isn’t fair to anyone.
Find a way to make my mom better, please.





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