We had chicken pox. It all seemed a lot more fun for them. I seemed to have more severe symptoms, “maybe”, everyone thought, “it is because she is the youngest.”
I carried, or helped carry (I was only five after all) my mattress to the front room. There were three mattresses laid out in the front room, one for me, and one for each of my two older sisters.
My mom brought us sprite, and we played cards, and watched movies. It was not as much fun for all of us, in the middle, when the sickness really hit. But soon my sisters were up running around, jumping on mattresses and having fun.
Me, I was laying there watching them, still feeling sick. I started to roll over, moan, and hold my side. “Maybe she is exaggerating”, my parents thought.
But then my fever hit, the kind of fever that makes you delirious. Still I moaned and held my side. My mom tried to treat the fever, still, they thought I was just having a stronger case of the chicken pox. Later my mother apologized to me over and over for not taking me in sooner, but at this point they were still thinking I was responding to being sick with the chicken pox.
I remember being so uncomfortable, clenching my side, not wanting to move, when they told me we were going to the hospital. I do not remember the drive in.
I remember being delirious in a hospital bed. I remember my mother leaning over me and looking very concerned and upset. Maybe my father was there too, from time to time, standing behind her. Lots of nurses, and maybe doctors, came and left the room. Everyone buzzed around me. I was delirious in the hospital bed for quite a while, maybe two weeks? I woke from time to time to see my mom, looking over me, concerned, or maybe the nurses fussing with some tube connecting to me. My mom was there a lot when I was delirious, I knew she was there and that comforted me.
Apparently that is all I can write for now, I am dozing off. It is the symptoms I get after dealing with anxiety, I crash and get dozy. So that must mean I am done writing for now.