Personal Narrative: A New Family

A New Family

As I stepped quietly through the doorway of a house I had never been in before, I felt a wave of fear spill over me. I hated being somewhere new for the first time. As I walked through the living room, I couldn 't help but stare at all the pictures of smiling children and happy families. I was sixteen and it was the beginning of June. But this day wasn’t just special because it was the first week of a long summer vacation. Little did I know today was the start of something that would go on to change my life forever.

A few days before my mom had sat me down at the kitchen table and in a very somber tone, which was rare for my mother, asked if I could handle adding another responsibility to my long list of commitments. My second

“Now, go grab your cartridge and stick it in the machine like so,” as she demonstrated.

After a few more steps, we made it to the part where it was time to grab the saline bag and spike it. Finally, I was able to learn how to use a needle. I must’ve looked bored or something because instead of just showing me, she had me doing it hands on. She was so relaxed about it. She sat smiling at me as I tried to pretend like I wasn’t terrified to make a mistake.

“Take your saline bag, hang it up on the hook, and spike it straight up. Be careful not to stab your finger through the bag, because if you do we will have to restart everything.”

After taking the full fifteen minutes to prep the machine, I moved on to learning how to actually operate her dialysis with her hooked up to it. I watched her as she stuck her arm with the two sharp needles. One needle was blue which was called the “Venus patient line,” and the red needle was called the “Arterial patient

”This woman has two disabled children to take care of, and a mother with dementia that she has to take care of all while dealing with her kidney problems, and blindness. She’s basically super woman with all the stuff she does”.

She never complained though. I asked her many times how she felt about her life and the way it had turned out and she would always reply with one of two answers. “These were the cards I was dealt in life.” Or “I wouldn’t trade my life or kids for anything or anyone else. I wouldn’t change a thing about my life.”

Sherry always had a way of inspiring me with how strong she was. She took on so many responsibilities and fulfilled her duties to the fullest. The months went on and as Sherry’s health started plummeting, so did her strength. She gave up on fighting to stay healthy or even alive. I knew she was tired. I knew she was ready to give up. Her doctor visits increased and so did her prescriptions. She needed much more help than I could give her due to school, work, and color guard.

During the last little bit of Sherry’s life, we sat in the ICU and I would talk to her and she would respond by writing on a clipboard. It was a long three weeks in the hospital, watching her trying to fight but with no strength to do