Wishing I was twelve

I was twelve when my aunt first had a stroke. That's when we found out that she has rheumatic heart disease. I was too young to understand what these things meant at that time. Too young to really care what was at stake.

That was fourteen years ago.

My cousins and I have grown up enough to be playing key roles in my aunt's most recent hospitalization. My cousin, Mac, at 21, shows no signs of fear although we know deep inside, he is sick with worry over the doctor's diagnosis. My aunt was diagnosed with Biliary Obstruction, the obstruction must have been severe for her to develop septicemia that caused her to into a septic shock thus her admission into the ICU. With her advanced state of infection, the only logical treatment would be to do a surgery-- failing to do the surgery would cause another septic shock that she might not recover from. The surgery sounds simple, really it does, they remove her spleen and put a tube to drain the liquid out. The kicker is, after 2 major strokes and a couple of minor ones, her heart is in close danger with this operation.

This surgery is going to be complicated and dangerous, if not expensive.



My cousin, Anne who is only 23, is beyond herself for she still has no idea how she would look for the amount of money the operation requires. My heart goes to her but with the antibiotics (given 3times a day) alone costing 3,500 per shot, I can only do so much. My aunt's husband ( who has long moved into another wife) has given them enough money to cover a few expenses but he says he can't promise anything more.

I wish I was back to being twelve and doctors would just give me a passing glance instead of talking to me. I wish I were not a key player in this situation and I could just sit in a corner while I read Archie comic books. I wish I didn't feel so maternal over my cousins and my aunt now so I don't get angry that we are helpless over the situation. I wish my cousins were back to being kids so they could let the grown-ups to the right decisions. I wish we were all back to being kids so we could play and wait for things to get better.

But things are not the same as when I was twelve. So tomorrow, I wake up and attend the Ash Wednesday Mass, have things settled at home before heading to the hospital where I wait and speak to the doctors again. I greet my cousins, and tease my aunt, and the whole day I pretend I'm not as scared as them. I know I have to do it as Anne is close to breaking point and I still can't figure out what Mac is thinking.