Post by marley on May 3, 2008 22:17:09 GMT
I absolutely love my older sister, Morgan. She is great. She's always there for me and sticks up for me. But it's my turn to stick up for her. And I'll tell you why.
One day in 2003, my sister noticed all these weird bruises on her arms and legs. My parents, concerned, took her to the doctor and left me and my younger brother at my grandma's house. An hour later, the phone rang. I picked it up. My mother sounded far off, as if she couldn't quite grasp something. She told me to give the phone to my grandma and I did. My grandma started crying. I wondered why. She handed me the phone. My mom's voice was ragged. She said, "Cassy me and Daddy are at the hospital. Morgan has been Medi-Vacced (taken by emergency plane) to a hospital in Oakland. They think she has leukemia."
Those words ripped through me like a knife. I couldn't help myself. I started crying. Sobbing. My mom said, "It's okay...here, I'll connect you to her phone." My sister's weak voice came over the line. I managed to blubber, "Morgan are you okay?" She said calmly, "I'm fine. Don't worry Cassi. I love you." She hung up. Everything else seemed to fall away.
For months after, my sister was on and off on trips to the hospital, missing her whole entire sixth grade year. The chemotherapy was hard on her. It makes you een sicker. She was always tired and weak and all her hair fell out. When seventh grade rolled around for her, the steroids that they had given her to keep her white blood cells up had ruined her hips. They were horrible and caused her a lot of pain walking. And to make it worse, kids made fun of her for it. I liked to stick up for her to show others that we were best friends. And she appreciated it. Especially the times when it was just me and her home alone and got sick and I helped her to bed and gave her her medication and helped her get things done.
And while all this was going on, it was just my mom because my dad, being a Colonel in the Marines, got sent over to Iraq for nine months. Most of everything was left up to me. My younger brother was too little to do anything and my mom was working extra hours to support our medical bills. I had to do everything. And since I was the middle child, nobody paid much attention to me and so I became quiet and secluded. My dad came back for a while but then got sent to Saudi Arabia for 8 months. I cried so much all the time. And nobody noticed me. Everytime people saw me, all they said was, "Hi! How's Morgan?" After a while, it became so overwhelming, I just wanted it all to stop.
But my sister had to get her first hip replacement and I was once again the one who did everything. Now, everyone says I held our family together but I still don't feel complete inside. Everything inside me seems jumbled up. I know I might sound like a baby, but this is how I feel. I'm so happy for my friends now though. I'm so happy with everything currently. I know it'll all work out in the end.
One day in 2003, my sister noticed all these weird bruises on her arms and legs. My parents, concerned, took her to the doctor and left me and my younger brother at my grandma's house. An hour later, the phone rang. I picked it up. My mother sounded far off, as if she couldn't quite grasp something. She told me to give the phone to my grandma and I did. My grandma started crying. I wondered why. She handed me the phone. My mom's voice was ragged. She said, "Cassy me and Daddy are at the hospital. Morgan has been Medi-Vacced (taken by emergency plane) to a hospital in Oakland. They think she has leukemia."
Those words ripped through me like a knife. I couldn't help myself. I started crying. Sobbing. My mom said, "It's okay...here, I'll connect you to her phone." My sister's weak voice came over the line. I managed to blubber, "Morgan are you okay?" She said calmly, "I'm fine. Don't worry Cassi. I love you." She hung up. Everything else seemed to fall away.
For months after, my sister was on and off on trips to the hospital, missing her whole entire sixth grade year. The chemotherapy was hard on her. It makes you een sicker. She was always tired and weak and all her hair fell out. When seventh grade rolled around for her, the steroids that they had given her to keep her white blood cells up had ruined her hips. They were horrible and caused her a lot of pain walking. And to make it worse, kids made fun of her for it. I liked to stick up for her to show others that we were best friends. And she appreciated it. Especially the times when it was just me and her home alone and got sick and I helped her to bed and gave her her medication and helped her get things done.
And while all this was going on, it was just my mom because my dad, being a Colonel in the Marines, got sent over to Iraq for nine months. Most of everything was left up to me. My younger brother was too little to do anything and my mom was working extra hours to support our medical bills. I had to do everything. And since I was the middle child, nobody paid much attention to me and so I became quiet and secluded. My dad came back for a while but then got sent to Saudi Arabia for 8 months. I cried so much all the time. And nobody noticed me. Everytime people saw me, all they said was, "Hi! How's Morgan?" After a while, it became so overwhelming, I just wanted it all to stop.
But my sister had to get her first hip replacement and I was once again the one who did everything. Now, everyone says I held our family together but I still don't feel complete inside. Everything inside me seems jumbled up. I know I might sound like a baby, but this is how I feel. I'm so happy for my friends now though. I'm so happy with everything currently. I know it'll all work out in the end.
