If you have clicked on this story, it either means you are way too curious, or you are one of us. Then again, I have too much curiosity too. Know that once you scroll down, there is no going back. You can't just walk away and forget about it, because the memories and dreams will haunt you. So be ready for the journey ahead. Because it is going to be a tough one. Anyone that isn't ready, go ahead and click out of this page.The rest of you, take a deep breath and scroll down.
Week two at the hospital. The doctors said they were going to send me home with a nurse to watch over me. I was very ready to get out of the hospital. Everyone always wore masks, and although I knew the coronavirus was going around, I still hated it. It was harder to read their emotions, harder to help them or ignore them, depending on the situation. For example, sometimes doctors would come in without masks when it was allowed. I could tell if they were sad, or angry, and happy. Let me just tell you, it's better to not argue or make any contact with someone angry. I got to know that after the fifth day. It was always stuffy, and cramped. While I loved my painted walls, there was always the impending doom of me getting covid. I was just done with the hospital.
When I got home, I was forced to quarantine from my family. They didn't know if my condition was contagious, so I was shut in my basement bedroom. I would have painted those walls too, if we weren't supposed to move in a few months. Christmas was a week away. I wanted to be with my family for Christmas, even if it meant I was exhausted the next day. I practiced walking around and sucking up the exhaustion into one big ball until I let it out at night, when I was supposed to go to bed. It worked for about ten minutes before I collapsed on the floor. But I wasn't going to let that stop me.
One night, I felt strong enough to walk around. I went into the downstairs living room and saw my parents talking to one of the doctors. “We aren't sure she is going to survive.” said the doctor, and I dropped the book I was holding. Everyone twirled around, but I raced into my bedroom before they could see me. They think I'm going to die? Well, I'll show them who isn't. I took out a piece of paper and started to write.
I am Sky Turner.
I am tough.
I am strong.
I am ready for anything.
You didn't think I would give up that easily, did you?
Because I won't.
I'll never give up.
I drew things I loved around it, like winged wolves and nature. I taped it to my door that night, and went to sleep, knowing that I would not give up now and that I would never give up. A feeling that had been there since the day I was born flourished, but I didn't know it yet.
The next morning, my mom saw the note. “You heard us last night, didn't you?” She asked, poking into my room. I nodded, and she tried to explain, but I held up my hand. “Don't try to explain. I heard you guys burst into tears. I know what's going on. But tell the doctors that dying isn't on the schedule. And it won't be for a long time.” I went back to drawing, and I could tell my mom was shocked. She closed the door, and I smiled at myself because what I said was true.
