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.
No matter what obstacle or challenges we faced, we still managed to find solutions to our problems and kept being optimistic. Going through a rough childhood it is easy to harbor hate and bitterness but being able to look logically at a situation and motivate it to change you that is strength that Jeannette and I
Growing up, life wasn't easy. As a result of these adversities, I've been able to not only see, but personally experience, having a constant battle in my life. Throughout this journey of life, I’ve had the opportunity to meet people and learn about different backgrounds and hardships many others suffer from. These experiences,
As Moms, we are always hopeful that we will deliver perfect children, and most of the time we do. When Mother Nature steps in though, and that doesn’t happen, it’s those parents that step up to the plate to raise and love that child that deserve the accolades. One such family that I personally know is my daughter-in-law. Her younger brother is a special needs child and she grew up as a middle-child with the focus on the younger brother. She recently graduated with a degree in Special Needs Education, but instead chose to pursue another path with younger children. After a life-time of dedication to her younger brother, she decided to take a break. When I met her family, I was in awe of the love and care, the dedication to the brother and the sacrifices that the other family made in order to raise him at home. He just turned twenty-two and graduated from a special school, with honor and pride. Much of what I read in this amazing book remin...
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.
Everything is perfectly fine, everything is great, then one day it all comes crashing down and shattered pieces are left. My life would never be the same but I guess change is for the best and it forced me to become the person I am today. It’s rough to be the oldest child, especially when your mom is diagnosed with stage 4 cancer and you have 3 younger sisters that look to you for comfort when their mom can’t be there. When the cancer is spread throughout your moms body doctors can’t just get rid of it no matter how badly you wish they could. Rounds of chemotherapy only slow it down, yet it’s still there a lurking monster waiting to reappear at any given moment. Nothing can even begin to describe the fear I felt, and still have to deal with today, but something happened where I could be there for others. What would Sheridan think, or what would 8 year old Lane think if they saw me cry? I had to be Strong not only for me, but for my other family members.
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.
best to stay down and keep quiet. After the arrival of the angel the child’s condition had
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
My cousin Josh reminds me of rainy skies filled with sagging clouds when sunshine bursts through and illuminates the world. I used to worry and get stressed about little occur. Our family’s tradition is, as juniors, we travel to Florida to stay with our grandparents. Unexpectedly, Josh had foot surgery, and our plans disintegrated. No playing on the beach, no swimming, no jet skiing, none of the activities we had dreamt about for years. As we waited in the airport, I felt terrible for him. The trip was a disaster, and instead of complaining about standing in the security line forever, Josh stood unbothered masking his pain. Arriving in Sarasota starving, I couldn’t wait to eat fresh fish, but we arrived so late nothing was open but Subway.
It was a cold sunday april morning, the sunday after easter. John, a father of 2, woke up to lots of tiny little footsteps running down the hallway, and then a big thump. He noticed the thump came from his chest. He opened his eyes to see his to children laying on his chest laughing. John pushed his kids off of him and started to wrestle with them. Within minutes the children were laughing so hard that they had tears running down their faces.
I had seen my blood before, but not this much at once. I could see the thick liquid flow and ooze within the bag. Without another word, the lady removed the needle wiped off my arm, and bandaged it up. I was heavily relieved. It still worried me that something may have gone wrong, and I was required to have the needle again. She unclipped the bag from the tube and took it away for examination. The results weren’t going to be in for a week, so we were free to leave afterwards. I quickly took my mind off the incident by playing a game on my phone. Flash forward to a week later: the results were in. Instead of a detailed description of my circulatory system, I got one simple answer: nothing was found. This was extremely confusing. Soon enough, this confusion became frustration. My parents paid an unqualified nurse to root around in my arm with a needle and stab me twice and all I got in return is: “nothing found”. There was supposed to be information about how I can work to grow up healthily, or at least something useful. I was left with two red marks and a nasty bruise on my arm for the next few weeks. I also had to deal with explaining what the marks on my arm were to everyone that saw
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Three months passed by and he still was not himself. But, I was very grateful for his consciousness. I walked into his room. The room had a dim-lighting to it. Attached to a heart monitor, there he laid on the bed. My father had been wrapped in bandages from head to toe; only his face was exposed. Thankfully, he had been doing a lot
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