Gathered Together Again For the second time in six months I found myself and my family gathered around each other with few words and many emotions. This journey began in 2011 when I came home to find out my older sister had collapsed at school earlier in the day. Me being a sixth grader I did not think much about it. As months went by it had become a frequent occurrence. Over a long period of time my sister faced numerous tests at some of the top hospitals in the region, but this phenomenon remained an enigma to all doctors. During that time, I wondered why her. She looks so normal on the outside. How could this happen. She is my best friend, she plays soccer, figure skates, and is a normal teenager. Through out this process I was determined …show more content…
We all sat in silence my dad began to speak. My sister had been diagnosed with an acute form of epilepsy. After our long family discussion, I stood up and felt a sense relief. I found comfort in the unknown becoming known. I work hard and do not to give up because I remember with out hard work and persistency my sisters condition would still be unknown. Although my sister was continuing to be seizure free, six months later I once again found myself and my family gathered around each other. However, this meeting was different. It was unexpected. On August 14, 2016 my parents called my sister and I down stairs. once downstairs we found two chairs positioned facing my parents. As we sat down, we were quite confused, my parents look at each other, looked at us, and began talking. Not by the words that were spoken, but by the tone of their voice and body language I could tell something was not right. My stomach continued to sink, and the much dreaded sentence was finally said. Your mother has been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, also commonly known as M.S.. It was rare to find it so late in life but not impossible. My parents continued to recite the symptoms and long term effects, but it was all a blur. It
Mairs’ piece is a careful examination of her experience with MS and her perspective towards her future. In contrast, Soyster writes humorously of a particular incident he had with MS and artfully weaves his ideas about the disease in with his story. In both instances, the authors share the purpose of narrating their encounter with MS to the world to raise awareness.
In coping with multiple sclerosis, as with other chronic illnesses, many choose to write about their experience, including the journey of how they received their diagnosis and their overall battle with the disease. In the autobiographic novel, Wish in one hand: The true story of a young life with multiple sclerosis, Jill Barton describes her journey of being misdiagnosed with a terminal brain tumor then re-diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.
Multiple sclerosis, also known as MS, is one of the humankind’s most mysterious diseases. Multiple sclerosis has the ability to affect nearly 3 million people worldwide. This disease tends to be more common in individuals of northern European descent and women are more than twice as likely to develop multiple sclerosis as men are. Of those 3 million people, most of them are between the ages of 20 and 50 years old. Even though multiple sclerosis is a mystery disease, scientists are working to determine the exact cause and treatment.
Andrea Hilgard always had a mild fear about the health of her loved ones but it never reached to the point where she starts distressing. During her pregnancy her health anxieties have become intense. She performed various test but with the strenuous reassurance of the doctor her anxiety diminished. Although she usually needed constant reassurance from a doctor it wasn’t until one morning where she woke up with a numbness sensation in her arm. She immediately jumped into conclusion and self-diagnosed herself with multiple sclerosis.
Nancy was only four years old when her grandmother died. Her grandmother had a big lump on the lower right hand side of her back. The doctors removed it, but it was too late. The tumor had already spread throughout her body. Instead of having a lump on her back, she had a long stitched up incision there. She couldn’t move around; Nancy’s parents had to help her go to the bathroom and do all the simple things that she use to do all by herself. Nancy would ask her grandmother to get up to take her younger sister, Linh, and herself outside so they could play. She never got up. A couple of months later, an ambulance came by their house and took their grandmother away. That was the last time Nancy ever saw her alive. She was in the hospital for about a week and a half. Nancy’s parents never took them to see her. One day, Nancy saw her parents crying and she have never seen them cry before. They dropped Linh and her off at one of their friend’s house. Nancy got mad because she thought they were going shopping and didn’t take her with them.
In March of 1998, my father was rushed to the hospital because of a heart attack. I remember getting home from basketball practice without my mother home. Instead, my sister was there with her children. The fact that my sister was there was familiar to me, but something did not seem right. My sister stayed with me and did not tell me what happened. Later that night, after my sister left, the news that followed would prepare me to encounter the most defining moment of my life.
My father passed away in 2005, and my mother has been the main supporter in my life. Unfortunately, my mother was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis in 2013, which became a large financial and emotional burden in our home. Instead of giving up, I became determined to provide a better life for m mother. I became employed at 16, in order to lower the amount of financial stress on my mother. I also decided on a career in Physical Therapy to help patients with neurological conditions, such as Multiple Sclerosis.
“She has been so strong and hasn’t let out a single tear. On the contrary, she has been consoling me,” I overheard my father saying on the phone as he was sobbing. I remember being filled with dread because up until that point, I had never seen my father cry. Later that night my parents sat me down and informed me that my mother had a brain tumor. Her debilitating headaches should have told us something was very wrong, however we were too young to know any better. Nevertheless, we were assured that she would be fine once the lime-sized growth from her brain was removed. During her hospitalization and recovery, I was eager to have my healthy, independent mother back. Unfortunately, my vision was faulty and instead she came home depressed and
On April 3, 2013, I could not remember what my home felt like anymore because my memory went completely black. The sounds of beeping machines surround me as a knife-like pain shoots through my eye. I have no idea where I am; the last thing I remember is walking to dinner with my sister. As I slowly open my eyes, only my left eye can see. I reach up; my right eye is swollen shut. My brain attempts to recollect the past, but it is unable. The blurriness slowly clears, and I see my family standing above me, their faces in utter shock. My sister Liza holds back tears and asks if I remember falling over the stair railing. She goes on to explain that I smashed the right side of my face against the edge of a stair, and after an hour-long ride on the
The moment I walked into my house after a long day of school, I realized that something was amiss. I noticed two pairs of work boots that hardly ever see together. It only meant one thing, that both of my parents were home early. A rare occurrence seeing as my dad comes home from work when everyone is asleep and my mom just barely makes it home in time to make dinner. I knew immediately that something must have happened for them to both be home early and at the same time. Thoughts raced through my head as I took off my shoes and backpack, “Am I in trouble or my brothers?” Dread filled my heart and mind as I poked my head around the corner and into the living room. The sight before me made my heart drop. My mom’s eyes were bloodshot and tears were rolling down her face while my dad had a puffy red nose and watery eyes. My mom explained through choked sobs that my grandmother on my dad’s side had just recently passed. I grew numb and blocked out my mom’s sobs. How could the person who took care of me for a good majority of my childhood be dead? I had only spoken to her a few days ago so it couldn’t be possible for her to pass away this quickly. My disbelief whispered selfish suggestions to me, “Question her! Ask her if it’s true!” I ignored my disbelief and went to embrace my anguished parents. I always dreaded the moment where I would have to experience the death of a loved one.
At the age of eight, I experienced a devastating moment of my life. My younger sister was diagnosed with cancer. I witnessed the emotional turmoil that my family went through and vividly felt an unprecedented level of anguish and despair. Thankfully, my sister promptly underwent treatment and has not suffered with any significant repercussions of the disease ever since. Despite my age, the ordeal gave me valuable insight into the medical profession, and I became acutely aware of the importance of healthcare and gained an appreciation of the people who dedicate their lives to medicine.
On August 11th of 2008 I was awoken by my alarmed uncle. He spoke to me in a rather frightened tone and told me to wake up because we had to go to the hospital. As we were in the car on our way from Russellville, my uncle made a phone call. I heard him blurt out, “Oh no, is she okay? Did they get her to start breathing again?” and at that moment my stomach felt queasy and all I could think was something had happened to my nana. I tried to sit in the back seat and stay calm but the confusion started to overwhelm me. I finally shouted, “What is wrong?”, my uncle got quiet and then stated, “It is your momma. She has fallen and is not breathing. The ambulance is taking her to the hospital.”. My heart broke in to a trillion little pieces and a million thoughts were running threw my head, “What could have happened?”.
“If we had found it any later, he would have died,” my dad’s doctor told my mother; it took the hospital too long to realized that my dad’s appendix had ruptured. The hospital had kept misdiagnosing him, and they were now trying to convince my mom the hospital wasn’t at fault. At the time, I was only eleven years old, and I was too naïve to know what was going on. However, I could see that everyone in my family was stressed about my father’s surgery he just had and his condition. In the past few days my mother had only been home for an hour a day to take a shower and have a snack. I would see her hands tremble, the bags beneath her eyes grow increasingly dark, and the color in her face disappear like her appetite. She looked so fragile and stressed, and I had no idea why she was so upset. I honestly believed that my dad just needed to spend some time in the hospital. I hadn’t seen him since he was admitted into the hospital, but I knew that he was strong enough to battle any sickness. It was now Thanksgiving break and my sister and I only wanted to go visit our father. One day, my sister and I were finally able to go see him, and that’s when everything changed.
It was June 6, 2011. I remember taking my mother to the County Hospital’s emergency room. She seemed extremely exhausted; her eyes were half-closed and yellow, and she placed her elbow on the armchair, resting her head on her palm. I remember it was crowded and the wait was long, so she wanted to leave. I was the only one there with her, but I did not allow her to convince me to take her home. I told her in Spanish, “Mom, let’s wait so that we can get this over with and know what’s going on with you. You’ll see everything is okay, and we’ll go home later on.” I wish then and now that would have been the case. Unfortunately, she was diagnosed with colon cancer that had spread to many parts of her body including her lungs and kidneys. The doctor said to me not considering that I was a minor and my mother’s daughter, “Her disease is very advanced and we don’t think she will live longer than a year.” With this devastating news, I did not know what to do. I thought to myself that perhaps I should cry, or try to forget and take care of her as best I could and make her laugh to ease her pain.
I was only fifteen being a newly found teenager like every girl was at that age; I have finally dealt with the fact that my mother passed away, all with help from my father of course. It was a normal night with my saying Goodnight to daddy, and my sister out like usual. However, this Goodnight wasn’t the same no movement nor no response in return. I grabbed the phone and called 911 and finally the ambulance arrived, just in time I thought feeling relieved. I had already called my sister she finally arrived crying to the EMT “Take him to Cooper Hospital.” She packed me into the...