- Posted July 20, 2014 by
New Orleans, Louisiana
This iReport is part of an assignment:
First Person: Your essays
One Day She was well and then she was sick
I remember it like it was just yesterday, when my sister began walking on the other side of her mind. It was the summer of 1970 in New Orleans, Louisiana when a yellow checker taxi cab hit her so hard that I could hear her brittle bones hit the hot cement street. I ran as fast as my bony legs could carry me to the nearest telephone booth on Galvez Street and St. Bernard Avenue. I franticly called my momma to give her the bad news. I was only 13 years old but I knew that I had to get the police. So I ran back to the scene of the crime, and I asked anyone in the area to call for help. I blamed myself for what happened to my sister because we were always told to hold each others hand as we cross the busy streets. On that day I let go of her hand, and she two years older darted across the street after getting off of the public transit bus. We had a green light to cross but that cab driver ran that red light that one fatal decision is what changed my sisters’ life. Finally, the ambulance came and I jumped in the back to bring her to the hospital. Thank goodness everything checked out alright, and we went home that same day. That is what I though later that night it was my sister turn to wash the dishes, and when I looked at her she seemed different her eyes was glassed over, and her tongue was just limp just like that she fell to the floor with a grand mall seizure. It was back to the hospital and the beginning of many of years to the scent of rubbing alcohol filled halls, white coats, and stet scopes. The hard smacks from the accident cause fluid to collect around her brain during her monthly cycles. Therefore, she was put on birth control pills at an early age to control the time of the onset of seizures. The brain damage progress from that time on the family did not notice because she managed to stay on the honor roll, and when a seizure decided to visit her. I was responsible to get her out of the school building before anyone would she her in that state of disconnection. Dialantin and Phenobarbital was her best friend. Until, it began to magnify the problematic areas of her brain. Today, 50 plus years later she lives out her days hearing voices, and swatting away whatever entity that tries to invade her space. One day she was well and then she was sick.