Narrative

A Tragic Experience with a Rewarding Realization

Monday mornings are the death of me. I woke up feeling groggy and useless, like I had no purpose in life. For weeks, I felt abandoned and lonely, as if no one cared to acknowledge my existence. I slowly rose from my bed and dragged my weary body to the bathroom where I carelessly scrunched my hair and applied make-up on my dull face even though I knew no one would notice. “Why do I even try?” I thought to myself. Frustrated with my appearance, I walked back to my room and threw on my uniform which consisted of a wrinkled, light blue oxford and a hideous plaid skirt. At least I could be thankful I didn’t have to worry about what others were wearing since we all look the same anyway.

Running late as usual, I rushed downstairs, grabbed my backpack, and scrambled out the door as my mother yelled at me for not finishing my chores. Ignoring her, I slammed the door behind me and dashed to my car. The drive to school was a blur as I sped down High Street, passing each car with swift movements and barely running through red lights. I parked my car, walked quickly across the street to my first class, and entered through the door just as the final bell rang. Sitting down in my seat, I felt another headache coming on, the headaches that normally result with a visit to the nurse’s office and an excuse to go home. Knowing how that morning had gone, I guessed that today would not end well.

My morning classes passed by so slowly I thought I would scream. My head was pounding and I felt my veins pulsating, struggling to get the blood flowing. I sensed myself getting sick as I walked with my friends, Rachel and Lindsey, to seventh period study hall. Too stubborn to make a trip to the nurse’s office, I persevered through the pain. Like usual, we sat down and started talking, but I could hardly make out the words either were saying. All of a sudden, I felt light headed and dizzy. I started to wobble, and before I knew what was happening, I fell backwards, hitting my head on the cupboards. I lie on the floor motionless while Lindsey ran for help. I started to get up, but Rachel insisted I stay there. Ignoring her, I slowly stood up on my quivering legs and made my way to the nurse’s office as Rachel assisted me.

I felt defeated as I sat in the chair with my head against the wall while people bombarded me with questions that I couldn’t physically answer. My mind screamed in pain, but not even my voice would communicate with them. Shortly after, my mother arrived at the scene with her phone in hand trying to contact my pediatrician. I felt abnormal, though I couldn’t figure out why. I was asked to raise my arms to check for motion. Still feeling faint and bewildered, I slowly raised them, but to my horror, only one went up. My left arm sat there cold and motionless. Something was horribly wrong. My left extremities felt numb and paralyzed. Immediately, an ambulance was called and I was rushed to the hospital. The fifteen minute ride felt like centuries.

In the emergency room, doctors and nurses chaotically ran around while my head spun in circles. I felt powerless and terrified. I cried because I didn’t know what else to do. No one knew what was wrong with me. Nurses steered me down long hallways toward radiology on what seemed like my death bed. X-rays and cat scans were performed on my body to search for the problem. Then the dreaded spinal tap, a procedure I will never forget. Probing a needle into the spine to draw fluid is not a pleasant experience. I lie there helpless as my panicky mother watched from a distance and my dad sat beside me. I gripped his strong hand tightly as I felt the cold needle pierce through my flesh and make its way to my shaking bones.

“It’s okay, Amber. We’re almost done, you’re doing great,” said the doctor as I tried not to squirm. That’s what they all say.

Relieved when the doctor finally finished the operation, I breathed a sigh of relief. I sat quietly thinking about my future. “What if I’m paralyzed for the rest of my life?” I thought. Just then, some of my friends walked into the room. In an instant, my heart filled with joy knowing that they still cared about me. “Amby, what happened to you? Stop getting hurt!” were only a few of the words that were spoken. As we waited for my results, it suddenly hit me. My family and friends love and care about me. It didn’t matter if I was paralyzed or not. What mattered most was I finally realized I had friends, true friends.