*A true story in my life- please read it would mean the world to me*
JANUARY: It was a cloudy spring day in Connecticut, but it wasn’t a nice day for
everyone. My sister Temi lies in the hospital with stage four cancer.
She was only diagnosed today and was struggling for her life at the age of four.
I wanted to help her, but I was only ten. I didn’t want this to be one of the days where
I set up a go fund me, or set up a walk-a-thon for her. I wanted her to live.
I watched her breathe through a tiny tube, within her little body.
My heart melted just seeing her struggle to open her eyes.
I cried by her bed and told her I needed her.
But I wasn’t sure that she could hear me.
Suddenly, the doctors pushed me out of the room, and a rapid beep filled the room.
She was crowded by several doctors.
My mother took my hand and dragged me away.
I wanted to fight through them, but I was too weak.
She would fight, I know she would. Because I needed to be there for her.
I slept on my mom’s lap that night, in a hospital chair. I couldn’t help the tears that
were rolling down my eyes. Why couldn’t there be a cure? Instead, a medicine that
Eats the life out of her. I wish I would be able to take the doctors place and treat her
myself. My mom told me that it was going to be ok, and something inside me
FEBRUARY: She begins to get stronger, and she can open her eyes. The doctors
put her in a wheelchair, and I wheeled it outside so she can breathe the fresh air.
Instead of seeing a girl smiling, and being the child, I wish she was, I saw a girl
struggling to breathe. I told her she was going to be ok, but I wasn’t able to promise
her. She apologizes, but I tell her she has nothing to be sorry for. I was happy she had
enough energy to talk. We laughed and we cried, and I wish this feeling would be able
To last forever. But I knew I was losing her, and she knew it too. My mother holds
her in her arms and says, “if this is too much for you, you can give up. I don’t want
You too, but don’t fight if it hurts too much.” She says in tears.
All I was able to see was a small girl in shock at the pain she felt in her body.
MARCH: She is allowed to finally come home with us. I was so happy to have her
back home, and I know I had to spend every last minute with her.
I never let her out of my sight for a single second, and she questioned why I cried
When we were having fun playing outside together.
The words were unable to flee my mouth. I was scared of losing her.
APRIL: My mom took us to the park today. I went on the swing with her, and we
Laughed side by side. Back and forth, we were having the time of our
Life. We spotted a dog from the corner of our eye, and we let the dog jump on
Us. The dog was heavy and stomped on her chest. She was unable to breathe.
MAY: Temi is once again in the hospital, and I feared this day would revisit me.
She burst into tears feeling hopeless. The doctors use their instruments and dug into
Her. I was traumatized looking at her being torn apart, like a ripped stuffed animal.
I yell at the doctor and tug at his shirt to demand him to stop. He yells at my mother
To take me away, and she does. He explains that he needed to take cancer out.
I walk up to the doctor after a month of seeing my sister dying.
“What are the odds someone lives with stage four cancer?” I ask
“This is the most aggressive cancer, she has brain cancer. The survival rate is less
than 8%” The doctor explains.
I walk back to my mother and stare at the wall fearing the worst. She asks me what's wrong, but I stay silent.
JUNE: We meet another family with a girl Temi’s age, who is also struggling from
cancer. Her bed was right next to my sister’s. The girl was being treated for lung
cancer. The doctor explains that she is on a list for a lung transplant.
Temi became friends with the girl immediately but was becoming less alive as the
days pass. All I was able to tell her was “stay with me, I need you.” My mom talks to
The parents of the other girls, and explains that she had stage four lung cancer.
JULY: Temi and the girl talk with little to no voices. They whisper and tell each other what they would do if they had more time to live. They dream of things that they think they will never be able to experience. My heart melts when my sister says, “the one thing I want to do is be a doctor with my sister, and find a cure for cancer, but I don’t know if my sister wants to be a doctor.” I ran into the room and cried to her. “I want to be a doctor!” I explained. “But I can’t if you don’t get better.”
My sister falls asleep with a smile on her face, and I hold her tiny hand.
AUGUST: The doctor comes into the parents of the girl that needs a lung transplant.
They tell her by the time they find a match it would already be too late. The parents cry in horror, and their crying makes me cry too.
I wanted to say “What about my sister? Will she be ok?” However, I already knew the answer.
The doctors come to my mother, and it was our turn for the bad news.
“We think your daughter has a chance.” They say to my mother. We found ourselves
Crying tears of joy. We were filled with hope, and we started writing down all of the things that we were going to do with her. This would finally be a thing of the past.
The doctor said she would need to be in the hospital for four more months, and then she would be free to go. At least now, we had something to look forward to. My heart would still be broken for the family sitting next to me. “May I see if I am a candidate for a lung transplant? I would like to offer one of mine to her.” I said.
“We will start with your test right away.” The doctor said.
SEPTEMBER: It seems as though my blood type was the same as hers, and I was
ready to give her one of my lungs. They asked me once more if I was sure I wanted to do this, and I told them they helped my sister, and I wanted to do something back.
They laid me down, and I was only half awake. I wasn’t able to feel anything, but with blurry vision, I was able to see my lung being taken from my body. With a small sound of a plop, it fell in a silver dish.
I wanted this girl to be my sister's friend, and if it meant giving her one of my lungs I was more than ready to take that chance. The rest of the night was a blur, and I fell asleep in a matter of five minutes.
OCTOBER: When I woke up and turned my body, hoping to see my sister in the bed next to me, she wasn’t there. Instead, I saw the girl with the lung transplant jumping on her bed and laughing with her mom playing with her. Her mother caught me staring at them, and smiled. “Thank you so much for saving her, you did something she will never forget.” I was so happy to see the girl so excited, but I still needed to know where my sister was.
“Do you happen to know where Temi is?” I asked politely. The mother just stared at
me, and looked down at the floor.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” I asked. She continued to act like she couldn’t
hear me, and that’s when I knew something was wrong.
NOVEMBER: The parents of the girl with the lung transplant hugged me, and left the doors to the hospital. The doctors were working on my sister once more, and suddenly I figured the doctor was lying. She wasn’t going to be ok. Thoughts swirled in my head and I once again began fearing the worst. Why had the doctor told me she had a chance when it seemed to be the opposite? Suddenly they let Temi rest and walked over to my mother with a clipboard in their hand.
DECEMBER: We did everything we could, is what the doctor said.
“It seems there is a decision you are going to have to make.”
“Is my daughter alive or not?” My mother demanded.
“Your daughter is ok, but we need to perform one more surgery and we need your
permission to do so. Cancer inside her is so small, and her brain is developing
more every month. We can get cancer, but not without it damaging the
brain. If we perform this surgery, she won’t be able to talk, move, or eat on her own.
She won’t be able to think properly, she will be disabled. It’s your call, but even if we do perform this surgery, she may still not live.”
“You mean, she won’t be able to ever talk to me again?”
“I am afraid not.” The doctor said.
My mom burst into tears, and we knew that she wouldn’t be happy ever again, even
if we were to keep her alive.
“May I talk to her one last time?” I asked.
“Sure thing.” The doctor said.
I walk into the hospital room, and she smiles when she sees my face.
“Temi, I promise I will become a doctor, I will be a doctor for you.”
“We can be a doctor together.” She struggled to say.
“I am afraid we can’t do that. I am sorry Temi.”
“Am I going to heaven?” She asked.
“Yes, and I will meet you there someday, I promise.”
“I’ll wait for you, every day.”
“I love you,” I said, bursting into tears.
“I love you too.” Were her final words.
My mother rushes over to me and holds me in her arms. My life was never going to be the same, but I knew she fought the best she could. She didn’t die before me, but she finished the race of life and is waiting for me to catch up.