Insimenator.org

So before I continue I’m Already There, I’d like to get in some “practice”- the kind of “practice” theraven had with Anna’s Diary, a shorter story…

Ava
2010

Things change. People die. Babies are born. It seems as though the great circle of life cannot be broken. At least, this is the thought of a typical healthy child, with a typical healthy family. Not me.
   See, in my house, nothing changes. Everything is the same. I get sick, while my brothers stay healthy. It is inevitable. I am only twelve years old, but wise beyond my age.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/Ava.jpg)
   “Ava? Are you okay?” Aidan says sounding panicked.
   My face is quite a site; flushed, with blood gushing down from my left nostril.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/snapshot_f93250e7_d9341212.jpg)

   “I am fine Aidan!” I shout. His willingness to help is annoying, and he has caught me at the wrong moment. “Get out of my room! And don’t you dare tell mom!”
   Aidan covers his mouth with his hand, shakes his head, and turns to race down the hall.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/snapshot_f93250e7_b934bd68.jpg)

   I rip another small shred of fabric from my makeshift curtain that is really a sheet and dabbing my nose with it I sop up all the blood. Underneath the blood, my skin is stained pink once more.

…

   “How are you?”  My mother asks at dinner, “Do you feel feverish?”
   “I’m fine mom.” I scowl. Just then, Taylor looks up. I give him a demon glare as a warning not to tell.
   Aidan looks at Taylor, then to the floor.
   “I’m not liable to say anything.” He grumbles.
   I stare into my plate, and shove a forkful of spaghetti into my mouth.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/snapshot_f93250e7_59353f13.jpg)

…

Aidan
2010

When you are nine years old the last thing you want is to walk into your sister’s room to ask for help on homework, and see blood dripping everywhere. The other “last thing” you’d want to see is your sister making herself ill, refusing medical attention, and ending up sicker than before. Unfortunately, this is exactly my fate. I witness this on a weekly, sometimes daily basis.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/snapshot_f93250e7_1934bd9a.jpg)
My sister, Ava, has cancer. She was born with congenital heart disease, a type of defect in her blood vessels that appeared even before she was born. She was fine, until she turned three just after I was born. This was when she started getting bruises and nosebleeds, side pains and swollen throat glands, fevers and night sweats, weakness and joint pain, headaches and new infections nearly every week; her bones ached and her gums bled violently after being touched. She had developed acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Once all the traumas of cancer end, her heart problems bring up something new. A heart attack or failure, something of that sort because of her arrhythmia and tachycardia.
Today, she is in remission. Or at least, she was. Until this morning. I honor her right to our last breaths and choose not to tell.  I’d say it’s being noble, but this decision might end her life.

…

“Aidan, are you okay? You look a little sick.” My mother asks.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/snapshot_993cb0a1_b93e08c3.jpg)
   “I’m fine. Um, my goldfish died.” I lie.
   “Oh, what a shame.”
   She is too preoccupied with my sister to even realize that my goldfish died two months ago, and was never replaced. That’s how it is around our house.
   (http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/snapshot_993cb0a1_993e09f9.jpg)
…
   Somehow, between doing a project on in front of the class and lunch I ended up in the principal’s office.
   “Your mother is in the office.” The secretary tells me.
   Instantly my face turns to stone and I can no longer walk. Ava.
   “Do, do you know why she’s here?” I ask her.
   “Something about an emergency… I think its Ava.” She informs me. Everyone at the school knows her from when she went here.
   I nod and we say nothing else until we reach the office.
   “Hi mom.” I grumble.
   “You ready?” my mother asks.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/snapshot_993cb0a1_593e0fdb.jpg)
   “It depends.” I mumble.  “What for?”
   “Let’s go Ava wants to see you.” She says.
   “Then no.” I mumble. She doesn’t hear me.

…

Kenny
2010

I look in at the class full of eleven-and-twelve-year-olds. All the girls have long, pretty hair, and all the boys are staring at them. All except one- Ava. My sister Ava has been in and out of the hospital her whole life.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/snapshot_7936a6a5_3936a6a6.jpg)
She sits at her desk with a bandana wrapped around her head, she has puffy red eyes with dark bags underneath, she has scars all over, and she is much paler than everyone else.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/snapshot_7936a6a5_3936a6c8.jpg)
The thing that really scares me though is the amount of blood on the sleeve of her white t-shirt.
Before her teacher even knows I’m there I run to Ava’s side.
She’s crying.
“It’s back!” She wails.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/snapshot_7936a6a5_5936aada.jpg)

Ava
2010

The only few things I can really remember from my childhood are as follows; one, I was sick, a lot, all the time. Two, I was four when I first got to play outside. Three, there was no fun having because everyone was too worried something would go wrong. And four, It was really hard to breathe.
Writing a paper for class about when you were little might seem easy enough- maybe for Kenny. But no one here ever had a childhood. They were all too busy watching over me.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/snapshot_b9368b43_39368cb8.jpg)
“Thanks Kenny.” I tell him, after he rescued me from school.
“Look, I won’t tell mom, if you do.”
I nod.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/snapshot_f93250e7_f93699bd.jpg)
…

“Mom?”I ask into thin air.
No answer.
Upstairs, my mother is sleeping.
I go back down into the living room and the doorbell rings.
“Coming!”I shout, and begin walking to the door...
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/snapshot_f93250e7_19369b26.jpg)
…

Isabella
1998

   My first memory of my daughter, Ava is not normal.
   You see, Ava is my first daughter. I know, my first memory should have been of her crying in my arms after being born. However, it’s not. I did not get to hold her until four months after she was born, and even then, it was with gloves and facemask. She had tubes and IV’s covering her body, and she couldn’t breathe on her own.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/snapshot_f96dfa9c_596dfa9d.jpg)
   “She looks just like you.”
   I just smile.
   Craig takes my hand.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/snapshot_f96dfa9c_596dfb8e.jpg)

…
1999

   Life is unfair. Incredibly unfair. The fact that my daughter cannot have a birthday party with a cake and candles and presents and family, the fact that she can’t go run and play outside with her older brothers, the fact that she can’t dance around the living room in a pretty pink dress.
   “Her lungs aren’t fully functioning properly, we haven’t discovered why, we are looking into it.” A doctor tells Joe and I.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/snapshot_b96e13a7_196e13b7.jpg)
“We have her in the pediatric ward, she’s awake you know. I could take you to see her.” A nurse grins at us.
   “Thanks” I mumble, before following her up from the doctor’s office into the elevator that will take us to the fourth floor.
   “Dr. Bryn can be a bit stiff.” The nurse explains.
   “Ava, your mommy and daddy are here!”
   Ava sits up in her crib.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/snapshot_f96dfa9c_196e0877.jpg)
   I hate seeing this. Ava has tubes in her nose and an oxygen mask on, IV’s all over her arms and chest, monitors all around her monitoring her heart, and brain, and everything else.
…

…

CHAPTER FIVE:
Alex
2010

   Even I know how silly we had looked. Wearing pajamas and facemasks in the middle of the day. But no one seemed to mind. My youngest brother, Aidan, tried to peel his mask off- but if he did, he’d have to leave.
   “Hi Ava,” I said when she woke up.
   A smile appeared on her face, then darted away as she pushed the button on her self-use morphine IV.
   
This was the day she started getting better. The best memory I have from when I was little.
 
   “Ava, I’m not really sure you should do that.” I add, once more.
   “Alex, I’m not really sure you should talk.
   Ava climbs up the counter, and picks out a bottle of painkillers, and takes two swiftly out of the container, and pops them in her mouth.
   “What if something happens?”
   “What’s the worst that could happen?” She asks easily.
   It must be fun to be so care-free, Ava has no choice, if she cares too much she’ll never have any fun. If she worries all the time like the rest of us, she’ll live in the hospital. She hardly lets us put her in there when she really needs it.
...

Ava
2010
   “Can you imagine it?”
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/snapshot_b97bf2e9_b97bf5e3.jpg)
   “Um, what?” Aidan asks.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/snapshot_b97bf2e9_b97bf615.jpg)
   “If I wasn’t sick.” I simply say.
   “What do you mean?”
   “I mean, if I had been born healthy and on time, and never got sick at all in the first place. Wouldn’t that be magical?”
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/snapshot_b97bf2e9_997bf65c.jpg)
   Judging by the look on his face, he has no idea what I am talking about.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/snapshot_b97bf2e9_597bf67d.jpg)
   “What if things were different?” I ask.
   What if things were different? I imagine life in impossible ways every night, but I’ve never told anyone.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/snapshot_b97bf2e9_f97c280a.jpg)
   What if I was a pirate, sailing the deep blue ocean, and battling while on a quest for amazing treasures?
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/snapshot_b97bf2e9_397c2cb0.jpg)
   Or a princess, locked up tight in a castle with a wicked step-mother and a father who has me up on a pedestal.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/snapshot_b97bf2e9_b97c302b.jpg)
   Or maybe a walrus, in the sea, trying not to be eaten by a shark or killer whale, while trying to get my fill of fish.
   What if I was a zookeeper’s daughter, and helped to feed lions and penguins every day?
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/snapshot_b97bf2e9_197c328d.jpg)
   I wonder what life would have been like if I were normal, and never been sick. I would go to school, and everyone would be happy. Would Aidan, born as my, and Tayelor’s savior, ever have been born? Or Ryan, born as a playmate for poor Aidan?
Maybe it’s best to put all these crazy dreams to rest.
   I tell Aidan of all my wonders, and he sheepishly admits to wondering about if I had never been born, how he’d wondered if he’d have been born sick, or healthy, how old he would be, and if he would never have seen a hospital in his life.
   Inside me I know, if it were not me who was ill, someone else would be.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/snapshot_b97bf2e9_797c38d0.jpg)
   I also knew that it would be Aidan.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/Ava/snapshot_b97bf2e9_397c38d9.jpg)

Aidan, 2010

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Clark, everything will be fine.” The nurse in blue reassured my mother.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/1-1.jpg)
Of course, the entirety of our family knew everything would be fine, and Ava didn’t look the slightest bit on edge, but it was standard procedure to let us know that they thought something terrible would happen- reverse psychology.
“We know,” Ava said, rolling her eyes.
Ava was a little braver, a little stronger, and a little smarter than your average twelve year old, but I guessed that was what it took to survive cancer for so long. She flashed me a toothy grin and scooted down from her bed. She didn’t seem anywhere near as fragile as the last time she was in the hospital- this time she could walk. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had hit the ground running.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/2.jpg)

Isabella, 2010
   
   As the sun shrunk back behind the moon I walked toward the door to Aidan’s bedroom. The door was open a crack, and when pushed it slid silently open. Aidan was facing away from the door, in his underpants.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/3.jpg)
   “Hey buddy.”
   Clearly, I had startled him. He jumped out of his skin and turned to look at me. His face reddened and his eyebrows furrowed.
   “Mom!” He growled.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/4.jpg)
   I giggled a little at his embarrassment, and he picked up a teddy bear off the ground and launched it at me. I shook my head and turned on the ball of my foot, walking into the hallway. He slammed the door shut in an effort to hide his blue whitey-tightys, and I stood just outside the door.
   “We’re watching Cars downstairs, if you want to come.” I informed him, and went off to the living room.
   In a few moments he joined us, now dressed in his pajamas rather than underwear, but still a little red-faced.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/5.jpg)
   “Quit ruining the movie!” Tayelor grumbled at Kenny, who was sitting on the floor, pointing and shouting things like ‘Lightning was the real winner!’ and ‘Isn’t he a racecar or something, but they don’t know until later?’ in a mind effort to make Ava laugh.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/6.jpg)
   Kenny waved off the comment and continued mumbling things just loud enough for everyone to hear.
   “We can hear you,” Alex offered, rolling his eyes.
   “Well then maybe you should plug your ears.” With that, Kenny fluffed Alex’s hair and leaned back against the couch.
   After the movie was done, we went through the routines; Putting Kyle down for the night,
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/7.jpg)
   Tucking Aidan in, and saying sweet dreams to Alex.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/8.jpg)
   And last, giving Ava her last medications- mostly various painkillers to help her sleep through the night, and sometimes pills to make her fall asleep.
   “I don’t think I need the sleeping pills tonight, I’m really tired. I haven’t rested much.”
   Ava swallowed the pills in one big gulp and held her arm out so that I could give her a shot of morphine, as the doctor instructed. She was only supposed to get one if she was in a lot of pain, and ordinarily a patient wouldn’t even get that- but we’re so well known at the hospital, I’m sure they knew we could handle it. Outpatient care was hard on Ava, she was up and around all day, except for when she was in the outpatient care center of the hospital, receiving chemo.
   “Alright, up to bed. I’ll be there in a second, I’m gonna put on my pajamas first.”
   In her room, Ava was sitting up staring at the sign on the wall that said ‘It’s your day’- it was there everyday, but sometimes she didn’t notice, and sometimes she did.
   “What’re you looking at?”
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/11.jpg)
   She snapped out of her trance and looked at me. “Nothing, just thinking.”
   “I see,” I said, nearing her bed.
   “Mom, do you think it will ever really go away?”
   I had a feeling she wasn’t talking about the banner.
   “Well I think you know better than most what can happen when you have cancer, but sometimes people have it just as bad and it comes back just as many times- yet they somehow recover and live normal lives until they die of old age. It’s a crapshoot, you never know what you’re gonna get.” I explained.
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/10.jpg)
   She nodded, staring blankly at the wall. I imagined she was trying to picture herself as an old lady, but couldn’t. I knew enough about Ava to know that the thought had occurred to her many times; she was bound to die sometime, and probably sooner than most. She didn’t let on that she was scared though- if she was, she was far too good at hiding it.
   Finally, she said, “I guess you’re right.”
   “You just have to live life to the fullest and have fun while you’re around- however long that may be.”
   She nodded again, with a glassy look in her eyes.
   “You okay?” I asked.
   “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”
(http://i1042.photobucket.com/albums/b424/0BretttterB0/9.jpg)
   “Well you should get some sleep,” I suggested.
   She smiled and laid down in her bed. “Goodnight, mom.”
   “Goodnight, Ava.”
   As I was about to leave her room, she mumbled, “I want to go outside tomorrow.”
   I shook my head, stifling a laugh. Normally, Ava wouldn’t be allowed outside. But with the weather permitting, and her feeling up to it, I would allow it. The odds of something happening were small, especially with the whole family close enough to help- most of which knew CPR, except for Kyle.
   With all of the kids sleeping, the house was calm. Rain pattered on the windows as I faded to sleep.