Katie
Waiting. This has been happening a lot lately. Waiting for results. Waiting to see what would happen to my family next. Waiting to see if my sister would ever be coming home. Waiting for doctors, nurses, and psychiatrists to once again break the news. Just waiting because at this point, that’s all we can do. I once thought this would never happen to my family, now I think why us? My fifteen-year-old sister was diagnosed with rhabdomyosarcoma, cancer that was in the muscle behind her eyes. Now we are waiting to see if she is blind.
This nightmare started July 21, 2010. My sister, Katie, seemed to have a bad case of pink eye in her right eye.
“Katie, everything you touch we will wipe down because I do not want pink eye. And until this is gone there is no way we are sleeping in the same room.” I teased.
“You’re going to get it just for being a brat,” she said as she chucked the box of wipes at me. This was not very different from our normal teasing.
Katie grabbed her guitar. Her little hands moved freely across the strings as she played any tune that she wanted. With ease she played beautifully and I easily became annoyed.
“Can’t you see I’m on the phone?” I hissed. She continued and I walked away rolling my eyes.
“JanaLe you will never imagine who just invited us to go swimming!” My friend Katelyn basically screamed into my ear, “Seth!” Being seventeen and having the cutest boy in school invite you to go swimming is a big deal. We went and now I regret it.
The sun beat down on us for hours as we lounged in pools that had most likely been peed in by small children, and became more in love with summer. Driving up to my driveway that afternoon, I had never been happier. With my swim bag hung over my now red shoulder, I skipped up to my house and danced in the door. However the feeling in my house was very different. The air was thick with nervous thoughts and my house was very quiet. I stopped in my tracks as the giddy feeling escaped from my body. After hearing from my little brother that Katie was in the hospital, I dialed, with sweating and shaking hands, my parents, older siblings, and grandparents’ numbers. No one would answer.
As the day went on, the bitter taste of waiting hung in the air. The house grew dark as the only light was glowing on our faces from the TV. As I sat there with my three brothers, we could feel each other’s anxious emotions. Suddenly the front door opened and in walked my aunt.
“Natty, you tell me right now what is happening to my sister. Tell me now!” By now I was screaming at her. Yelling through the tears that were flowing down my cheeks. My throat stung. My body tightened, and my soul numbed as I heard that my sister was now getting a biopsy because the doctors believed she had cancer. Tears were unstoppable as we siblings tried to comfort one another. Our shirts were soaked from tears and sweat we couldn’t control. We were nervous. Nervous for her and what would happen next.
The next day was the first time I ever saw my sister hooked to tubes. There on the bed could no way be my sister. She laid motionless on the bed her body looking more fragile then ever. The machines surrounding her beeped and seemed to keep her from being my sister. The smell of the hospital gave me a headache and everything was too clean. This terrifying sight would haunt me for nights and nights to come.
The rest of that week was a blur. As the news spread about Katie, many people came to visit her and at home we had more food than we could ever eat. But one particular day as the doctor came to visit Katie we were told to get ready for radiation and chemotherapy.
This was the beginning of our new life. Before coming into the house you had to change your clothes and no friends were allowed over. Everyone had a certain day to drive up to the hospital for her check ups. For months I watched my sister loose her hair, constantly throw up, and cry because of pain. One night in the middle of another treatment she was once again bent over the toilet crying. I sat by her and rubbed her smooth, bald head. As she turned to look at me her eyes were red. More red than I had ever seen. It was as if a monster had crawled in and took control of my sister’s body. We immediately took her to the emergency room. That was last night. We have been sitting on the plastic and never comfortable chairs in the waiting area. Katie is now in surgery and may be having her eyes removed and replaced with glass eyes. The doctor now is walking toward my family and I, the look on his face not reflecting positive news.
“I’m sorry to tell you but we had to remove both eyes. The cancer ha spread too far but we strongly think this will help get rid of the cancer.” The words came from the doctor who seemed to have said these words before. My tears are back and I let them flow. I’m too tired to try to control them.
“Here she comes.” My dad quietly says and he stands to embrace Katie. Before I can think I’m running to her. She recognizes me by touch, something we have always been connected by.
She’s coming home. We wheel her out to the car and make the short ride home in silence. We walk Katie into the house and sit her on the couch. Next to her is her guitar. Her now very fragile hands rub the smooth wood of the guitar. Her skinny fingers slide up and down the strings. I see her relax as she once again plays any tune with ease. She is my sister and we are home.
