Standing Out

After another week of fourth grade PSSA preparation with Mr. Ashworth, I was grateful for the weekend when it came. It was finally April, and I had decided to enjoy my day as much as possible.

Unfortunately, I’ve been struggling with a cold for a few days and my spring allergies started catching up with me, but I wanted to make the best of what I had when it came to a break from school.

I slouched down on the couch and turned the television on. Instinctively, my hand reached to pull an eyelash out. But something was different this time.

I couldn’t help but exclaim “ouch” when I touched my right eye. It felt swollen. Distracted, I ventured over to the bathroom and examined it. It was red and swollen along the bottom and was painful to touch. I frowned. It better not be pink eye. Someone had that a couple of days ago at school, and as contagious as that virus is, it wasn’t unlikely that I had picked it up.

Eager to miss school and avoid malicious Mr. Ashworth, I ran downstairs to tell Papa that I wasn’t feeling well. He answered me suspiciously. “So you’re “sick” again, Mya?” Sarcasm crept into his voice.

“I think it might be pink eye.” I informed him.

He turned to look at me, and startled, he jumped. “Uh, I guess you’re not lying this time. Why don’t you go get some rest?” His expression also silently added, “So you don’t get me sick.”

In a pleasant mood, I raced upstairs to my room and flung myself onto my bed. Sleeping out the sickness was totally worth avoiding Mr. Ashworth.

As I laid my head to rest, however, I didn’t realize that it wouldn’t be until another month that I would recover. At the time, a few days off from school seemed like a good deal, but not a whole month.

After a week of fighting this sickness, I did not appear to be getting any better. My fever temperature would spike and then drop suddenly; whatever was happening to me, I was either too hot or too cold. My eye didn’t look any better, either. As a matter of a fact, it was far worse. It appeared to be bulged out and it was simply petrifying to look at.

I had begun to feel rather lonely. Mama visited me occasionally, but that wasn’t enough. Her cleaning job kept her busy and to support us, she occasionally worked on the weekend. She could do only so much to help me. She tried giving me medicine to lower my fever, but instead of putting it at a normal temperature, it would drop horrendously low and then increase drastically later. I felt more helpless and ill than I had ever felt before.

“Hi, honey.” It was 6:43 p.m. to be exact and Mama had just gotten home. Her first priority was checking on me. “How are you feeling?”

“Horrible.” I grumbled miserably.

“I’m so sorry.” Her eyes filled with grief. “I’m just so, so sorry.”

“Can’t you help me?” I wailed.

“I’m sure you’ll feel better soon. It’s just a bad cold.” She seemed as though she were trying to convince herself.

“What if I die?” I sounded irrational, but I didn’t care. I felt awful.

Mama’s eyes filled with fear, but she spoke calmly. “You’ll be fine sweetie. I promise.” I could hear her voice waver. “I love you.” She stood up, crying, and exited the room. I wanted her to come back, but I also didn’t want to sound like a baby. Lonely, I cried myself to sleep.

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“Hey, Mya,” I felt a hand prod my shoulder. “Hey, wake up!” It was Jeanne’s voice. My eyes, bleary with sleep, blinked open, shifting to read 2:14 a.m. on the clock. All I could feel was pain in my right eye.

“What?” I groaned. Why couldn’t she just leave me alone right now?

“Sorry that I woke you.”

“You woke me up just to apologize to me?” My voice was edged with anger.

“No, it’s just you were moaning so loudly I thought that you were hurt.” She gazed at me sympathetically. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Probably not, but don’t worry. It doesn’t matter if I die, anyway.”

“Hey, don’t talk like that!” Jeanne’s voice filled with alarm. “You’re my sister! We’re a team, you know.”

I looked at her in wonder, wincing in pain as my right eye moved in tandem with my left. “You really think that?”

“I know that.” She confirmed. “Now I’m going to get Mama and Papa. Wait here.” She said that as though I can move. I almost laughed.

Minutes later, she guided my weary parents up the stairs and into my room. Blinded by the darkness, they flipped on my light switch. “What’s wrong Mya?” Sleep edged Papa’s voice and a yawn escaped him.

“I’m just in a lot of pain.” I explained as my eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness.

“There’s not much we can do.” Mama sounded grave. “We’ll just give you some pain medicine for now and check on you tomorrow.” She went downstairs to prepare the medication.

I growled spitefully. “Why can’t you just take me to a doctor?”

Papa shifted uneasily. Before he had to explain, Jeanne interjected. “They’re trying their best right now, Mya. They’re going to give your body two weeks to fight off the sickness on its own, and if it doesn’t get better, we’ll take you to see a doctor.”

I sighed, sounding utterly defeated. “If this is serious, I might not be around that long.”

“Mya,” Papa spoke quietly. “You need to be strong for me, for everyone. You’re going to be okay. We love you.”

I grumbled, unconvinced. Before I could reply, Mama brought up the pain relieving medication in a liquid form. She forced me to swallow all of it and I gagged at the sour grape flavor. I shuddered. I would have decided to put up with my pain had I known how foul the medication tasted. “That should do it. Sweet dreams, dear.” Everyone kissed my forehead, including Jeanne, and exited the room silently. I didn’t want to die, but I wasn’t sure that I could live for much longer when I didn’t know what was wrong with me.

When I first touched my eye, I knew that something was out of place, but I didn’t expect to be laying here in my bed for a week and probably much longer. Fever at a dangerously low temperature, I wrapped myself in a pile of blankets and shivered unremittingly as I drifted into an agonized sleep.