Well Wishes Welcome

Two years ago, my sister ate some grilled chicken that had a tiny metal wire in it.  It ripped up her insides pretty bad and it’s astounding she survived.  She underwent a very serious surgery, but she seemed to have recovered very well.  My family is, of course, made from tougher stock than most.  She took it as a sign to change her life, to get out and active and to do more with herself.  She started seeking treatment for other health issues, and has really been taking active steps towards wellness.  That was a year and a half ago.  The other day, she comes to my mother, worried.  She says that she’s not been feeling well, and she can’t eat much.  When she does, she feels a pressure.  And part of her stomach, where she had the surgery, feels firm.

My mother gets frantic.  She was a nurse before she dedicated her life to raising her 8 children, so she knows this can’t be anything good.  It turns out, my sister had a pretty bad hernia over her intestines, poised in such a way that it was any wonder why she hadn’t dropped dead or fallen over ill.  The doctor was scared, and immediately made plans for surgery.  The soonest they could get her in was this coming Wednesday.  The same day she was diagnosed, she was told she shouldn’t be putting any pressure on herself or even be walking like she has been.  My sister walks regularly to keep active.  That same day, she had plans to walk the hilly slopes back home, and my mother had her stay home instead for an unrelated reason.  The doctor said she could have very well collapsed or made herself very ill if she had taken the walk like she planned.  

My sister is one year and one day older than me exactly.  So, technically, she’s my elder sister.  You wouldn’t ever know it, because I’ve always been like her guardian.  My sister was bullied relentlessly in school, and because she has debilitating social anxiety that makes her freeze whenever someone she isn’t comfortable with even speaks to her.  I often would come jumping in, fists flying, to protect her.  And back home, she and I were thick as thieves.  We shared birthdays, we shared a love of gamings, she and I are the only two that remembers the abuse and horrors of living through my mother’s first husband.  And while we get along about as well as cats and dogs, I’d lay hands for her, for sure.  I’m just so scared.  This is the second serious surgery she’s had to undergo in just two years.  Losing her isn’t an option.  If she dies, so does a very important part of me.  Caring for my family is my whole life, and if I don’t have my family to protect, what the hell am I to do?  How will my life go on?  I would just lose it.  I need her to be safe and sound, or I can’t sleep at night.

Whether or not you believe in any sort of higher power, whether or not you believe in luck or goodness, maybe you could just find it in your heart to think one positive thought for my sister Sarah’s sake.  Whatever you can afford to muster up, my family would be much obliged. 

 

 

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