Zerschlagener Alptraum

Appearances can be deceiving; there are many things that others hide. A part of their life that remains hidden from the world, yet in plain sight. People go about their everyday lives with a secret, some sort of information that plagues thier existence. This is the story of my secret, the part of my life that has great meaning yet hardly anyone knows about. This is the story of how I came to be the way I am and of how people came to treat me as a glass princess. During the fall of 1993 does our story take place. The Sega Genesis console, which was the most advanced of its time, was set to come out in stores in a matter of weeks. I, a young girl of 12, was visiting my grandparents when it hit. I got this uneasy feeling in my body and I became lightheaded. I went to talk with my grandmother, who was cooking; she suggested that I lay down since I looked a bit pale. I laid down for a while then got up for dinner. That’s when I noticed I wasn’t that hungry, but I ate anyway. The next morning when I awoke my grandmother asked me what I would like for breakfast. I got nauseous at the thought of food so I decided to skip breakfast and went off to school. It wasn’t much later that I was lying in the nurse’s office calling my mother. Naturally when my mother came for me, I took refuge at my grandparent’s home. A few days went by during which time I laid in the artificial darkness I had made for myself in which I neither ate nor spoke. I could not eat and I would vomit at the mere scent of food. I distinctly remember at one point sitting up as my mother brought me a small bowl of applesauce. I remember looking at the curtains and the sunlight was so that it led me to believe the time of day to be dusk. As I looked at my mother I vaguely, caught the smell of something heavenly, which allowed me to mumble, “What’s grandmother making for dinner?” My mother spoke softly to me and her replay was, “Your favorite, baked chicken.” I managed a smile as my mother held up a spoonful of applesauce. However as it was placed in my mouth I began to gag. I reluctantly swallowed, and then I sent my mother on her way as I lay down. My memory fails me at this point but I somehow manage to be lying on my grandmother’s white floral couch in the living room. I vaguely remember my grandmother and mother speaking to me although I don’t know what about and the presence of my grandfather and my brother were not known to me. I am unable to stand and so my mother is forced to hold me up in order to take me to the doctor. I was taken to my pediatrician, Dr. O’Keefe, who is now deceased. I vaguely remember this time spent at the doctor’s office. Dr. O’Keefe knew the moment he saw me that I was gravely ill. My nurse, Olga, took my blood from four of my fingertips. I remember the pain as she pricked my fingers. My fingers turned an awful shade of purple and I felt faint. I was sent to Children’s Hospital immediately. This was my first time in the hospital that I actually know where I was and why I was there. A doctor came in with a nurse and explained that I had to stay in the hospital for a while until they could figure out what was wrong with me and make me better. Now let’s take a step back. As I said before, my memory was hazy at this point, however after talking with my mother and brother I have come upon some extra information. You see, not only did this one-week change my life, it changed the life of my mother and brother as well. I remember as I grew up my mother saying that no one was her favorite and that she loved us both equally and treated us the same. My brother said he was there the whole time I was sick and he remembers me falling asleep on my Aunt’s couch. At that point, he knew there was something wrong with me. It never occurred to me until now why my brother stopped having birthday celebrations. All of what I say next comes from my mother’s memory. The weekend of my brother’s birthday my mother, brother, grandmother, soon to be stepfather and I were celebrating my brother’s birthday at my stepfather’s house. This was the weekend after the week of school I had missed. My grandmother was sitting on the couch and I was lying down with my head in her lap. As my grandmother stroked my head, my mother approached us quite angry at my lack of attendance in school. She looked down at me in anger and said “There had better be something seriously wrong with you or you are going to get it.” My grandmother looked at her with an expression that said how could you say such a thing, but my grandmother did not say a word as my mother stormed off to make my brother’s day a joyful one. My mother at this point of her recollection began to cry. The next day was Monday and my mother took me to the doctor. Again I find out information from my mother that I had no remembrance of. She said that on the day that I was admitted to the hospital that the doctor took her out of the room to talk to her and they said I was very lucky. The doctor asked her how come she didn’t bring me in earlier? Didn’t she notice that I was sick? He told her that if she would have waited one more day, that I would have been dead. Of course I knew nothing of this and no one told me. My mother then said that she wished her mother would have slapped her for saying such a thing to me. How could I say that? It’s all my fault I condemned you. GOD is punishing me for being cruel to you. My mother had completely lost me at this point. She said because of her words on that day that GOD made me ill to punish her. My mother then looked at me and said I will never forgive myself for what I said to you. I remember the next day my mother, aunts, uncles and my grandparents came to see me. I lay in my hospital bed full of tubes staring at the many faces around me. It wasn’t more than five minutes before everyone began to cry. I had never seen my uncles or grandfather cry before. All of them started sobbing uncontrollably because they knew the truth and they had to leave. I was left alone with my mother. As I gazed at my mother’s watery eyed, tear stained face I asked her why did everyone start to cry? My mother now with tears streaming down her face said because I was sick but for me not to worry because I was going to get better and that I should sleep now. What happened in the hospital after that was a blur of tests and doctors. It’s amazing how one Sunday and one Monday can change a whole lifetime. From that point on everyone treated my like I was glass. No one fought with me or made me unhappy. My mother kept a close eye on me and my brother became my protector. I asked my brother why he decided to protect me instead of abuse me like he used to? He looked at me with such a love in his eyes that I had never seen before. He then said, “Because you are my little sister, my only sister. I almost lost you once and it nearly killed me. It was the worst feeling in the world and I never want to feel it again. I love you and nothing will ever come between us I promise.” I stood there astonished at his answer as he walked away. I then asked my mother why she was always around me? I told her when I was younger she was never around me this much because of her work and I remember staying with my grandmother most of the time. She replied “Because I didn’t know when you were sick, even though it was my fault. I won’t ever let that happen again.” Everyone in my family to this day treats me like I am better than they are. I get the best without asking. My birthday is practically a holiday because my family takes time off to celebrate it. I doubt anyone even knows how old my brother is. I noticed from the time I was fifteen that I was the only person besides my mother and grandparents that gave my brother a card or even told him happy birthday. It also crossed my mind how every Christmas I have the most presents under tree and how I receive multiple presents from the same family. I asked my brother how come he doesn’t have parties anymore and he said he just doesn’t that’s all. After talking with my mother we concluded that my brother must have some psychological issues dating back to the weekend I was gravely ill. I have yet to ask him of such a thing is true. On occasion my family and my mother will openly admit that I am their favorite. I find my aunts and uncles treat me better than their own children. I have come to the conclusion that life isn’t just. No one said life was fair but who said it had to be so unfair? For a child to fight for her own life or for someone to be completely discarded because of technicalities, is not just. Don’t get me wrong. I love the injustice to my brother on my part because I get all the perks, but I can’t help but to feel bad for him. I thought my cousins and my brother would be jealous of me, but they are treating me like their parents do. When you think about it, because of one injustice, there are multiple. There is no justice in the world no matter what anyone says. There will never be equality, only the illusion of justice and equality.

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