The Hardest Challenge I Have Ever Faced
I have meet with more than my share of difficult challenges. This one will remain with me always, occasionally playing over in my mind when I look at my son. It was April of 1993, the eve of Easter Sunday; my children and I were coloring Easter eggs in anticipation of the big hunt the following morning. The kids were excited and having a blast, especially my three-and-a-half- year old son Joey. With the eggs freshly colored and carrots left out for the Easter Bunny, I put my children to bed, prepared the Easter baskets and retired myself. What happened the next morning would change not only my perspective, but also my entire life.
As Easter morning arrived, I arose to discover that Joey was still sleeping, unusual for a three-year-old. When I tried to wake him, he said his back was hurting and he did not want to get up. I waited a little while, went back into his room and once again had a hard time arousing him. This time I asked him to stand up for me in an attempt to figure out what was bothering him. He must have been in tremendous pain; when he tried to stand he was unsteady, his little legs were shaking much like that of a frightened puppy. It was time to take him to the emergency room. Something was terribly wrong.
We arrived at the emergency room only to find several people already there. Joey was begging me to do something to stop the pain in his back; we waited and waited and waited. Finally, in total anger and despair I set out to find someone to help. The doctor came over, examined him and asked me several questions; it was slowly becoming apparent to me that this doctor did not have any answers. Meanwhile I was growing more concerned about the unknown; what was wrong with my child? The doctor, obviously puzzled by the situation, decided to run a CBC (complete blood count). This took what felt like an eternity, suddenly the doctor became somewhat evasive, almost secretive. I was exasperated, determined to find out what was wrong with Joey’s lab report. I inched my way over behind the curtain, so I could overhear bits and pieces of the doctor’s conversation. They were discussing things like a low hemoglobin count and a high white blood cell count, then I heard it, the most devastating word I have ever heard a doctor say-Leukemia.
In the result of her brother and father near death from a car wreck, my mother had to stay strong for all the siblings and family. The grief across the family was already bad enough and it wouldn’t have gotten better if it wasn’t for my mom getting mentally strong for everybody and keeping hope. It ended up her dad being fine but as for her brother it would've been a miracle if he lived due to the accident. After his rehabilitation and him getting better the family felt great but no one thought it could’ve gotten worse. Since the car was smashed her brothers head and left him with brain problems, Charles (her brother) forgot who the family was. The doctor and the whole family went through a long process of teaching Charles who they were. Eventually he remembered everything except for everything that had happened 2 years before the car crash. This was an experience that the family was not ready for at all and luckily my mom stayed strong for
In his book, “The Worst Hard Time”, writer Timothy Egan writes about the horrible days known as the Dust Bowl and the suffering of the people during the Great Depression. Egan does so by telling the stories of survivors that witnessed it which most of them were children at the time or farmers.
Each morning before school I took him to the hospital where he received blood transfusions or chemotherapy to treat the lymphoma that was destroying his body. After school, I raced home to complete my homework so that I could later go to his apartment. There I cooked meals, cleaned up, and administered his oral and intravenous medications. Working with IVs became second nature to me. I found myself familiar with the names of drugs like Cytovene, used to treat CMV, Neupogen, to raise one's white blood cell count, and literally countless others.
One fateful day at the end of June in 1998 when I was spending some time at home; my mother came to me with the bad news: my parent's best friend, Tommy, had been diagnosed with brain cancer. He had been sick for some time and we all had anxiously been awaiting a prognosis. But none of us were ready for the bumpy roads that lay ahead: testing, surgery, chemotherapy, nausea, headaches, and fatigue. Even loud music would induce vomiting. He just felt all around lousy.
As a child the sight of an ambulance would send shivers down my spine, the flashing lights and loud horn, the panic as cars comes to a stop, and the terrifying events that followed. Being a witness to such commotion never seemed as horrendous until I became the person inside the ambulance. After experiencing headaches, sore throat, shortness of breath, and the lack of ability to move my left arm my parents sent out a distressed call to the paramedics who then rushed me into the E.R. Within the hour I was no longer on a gurney, but instead was on a hospital bed, tangled in color-coded wires to keep me alive. Hours passed, possibly even days, when I opened my eyes, only to find the words “ Sabrina’s room” on a dashboard in big pink letters. Injected into my left arm was an IV tube that dispensed antibiotic fluids into my suffering body. As I turned my head to look into the mirror I saw that my hair was shaved and a scar remained with staples over it, forming into the shape of an arc.
My mom stopped at the hospital shop and got me a pad of paper, crayons, pencils and a pen. For breakfast they brought me eggs, toast and a tea bag with a hot cup of water. I ate the toast and a tiny portion of the eggs. I placed the tea bag in the cup of hot water and watched the color spread. A hospital chaplain came into my room to check on me, I asked if I could have honey for my tea. He said he’d see what he could do before leaving me alone. While waiting for his return , I began to doodle in the pad of paper. A nurse came in and took my blood pressure and then my breakfast tray. I enjoyed the presence of the hospital staff, it meant I was not
After the nurse drew my blood, she brought in a syringe filled with a clear substance, and she handed my mother and I the tube so we could read the tiny lettering printed on the side. Morphine. I had heard of the potent drug before, and it was hard to believe that it would soon be running through my veins. I instantly relaxed once the strong medicine was pushed into me, finally feeling a sense of comfort I had been deprived of for the last hour. My mother and I were left alone, and I could sense concern on her face. She soon called my Dad who sat at home with my two younger sisters, eagerly waiting to hear about the details of my emergency visit so far.
After a few minutes of me silently wondering what was wrong and why people wont tell me what's happening, we arrived at Mary Bridge Children's Hospital. I didn’t know what was going on, but I assumed something had happened to Noah. After all, he is my only sibling. Once we pulled up and parked at the hospital. We were silent walking into the hospital.
He whispered to me “You’ll be okay, don’t worry about it.” The doctors finally injected the needle in my spine and there it was the pain that was a hundred times worse than getting a regular flu shot. In my head, I was thinking that I hope that i can survive tonight because no matter how terrible the pain is, I’ll make it through this. Well, that midnight I finally got out of the hospital and they told me I had a seizure because of my fever and went home with a juice box and home to go sleep once more and enjoy the rest of my life with my friends and family. The moral of all of this to me was live life to the fullest because you may never know that one day your loved one or yourself can be in a near death experience, so do anything you can to make a
Any kid requires patience and care. Alan was a special kid that called for psychological treatment, treatment that wasn't offered in this small town. Since we both lived under the same roof for the past three years, I took it into my own hands to attempt to help him out. I was certainly not the most qualified person to help Alan, but being around him gave me the opportunity to advance on certain skills. I developed skills while taking care of him on my spare time. While taking care of him I attempted to
“Get the doc now!” Mother shrieked. Bump, crash, bang, the stretcher carried my lifeless body down a populous hall. “Get and I-V now! Heart beats are slowing, we may need resuscitation, get me the shocks now!” “Oh my lord, no please don’t take my boy lord! Not now…” My mom snuffled. *Whimpers and cries”
"Selena Gibson" the nurse called out after opening the closed door. I stood up and quickly moved forward toward the nurse. Stepping through the door I was ask to turn to the right and go down the hallway. Walking down the long stretch dragging my feet along the way I was scared to find out what the doctor was going to say. Turning to the left the room looked impersonal and cold. I was asked to seat in the chair and wait till the doctor came in with the results.
On the day our son, Riley, was born, I delivered a healthy little boy who didn’t cry at first. I remember his face like it was yesterday. With all seriousness, he slowly looked around the room trying to grasp his new surroundings. I knew at that moment I would have a person whom I would love unconditionally for the rest of my life. After taking Riley home, the challenges began to set in. Little did I know that he would need to have a diaper changed every two to three hours? On top of that I was nursing him, so the constant feedings throughout the night left me with endless nights of little sleep. Over the years, Riley constantly tested me. As a toddler he would get into the trash and one time drank a can of tobacco spit from his dads
It was an ordinary Monday and Keith who was 15 and Linda who just turned 14 10 days ago were getting back from another boring day of school. It was a pretty sunny and warm that day. When they both get inside the house they see their mother Jane sitting on the couch silent as a rock. Keith and Linda were both staring blankly at their mother as they’ve never seen her act this way. Jane finally said that our step father passed away earlier that day. A couple months ago their step father had a seizure from the medicine he was taking for his heart transplant he received 15 years earlier. The medicine caused his blood to thin so he didn’t get enough oxygen to his brain. He has been hospitalized since then.
I don’t think that biology played a large piece in my thoughts, feelings, or actions after this event. I felt fine when I was coming home from school, so I wasn’t sick. I wasn’t in a fight or flight situation, I just wasn’t expecting to come home to bad news like this. When they told me I was not totally shocked because I knew she wasn’t doing that well, but I had still hoped she would be okay. I think that the thoughts, feelings, and actions were more important than biology for this.