I imagined I would throw down a rose, down into her grave where she would lie for eternity. I hoped that they way I saw her for the very last time wouldn’t be in a coffin. A terrible feeling had started to developed where knots in my stomach churned and everything started to go to a haze, I had the feeling that this, seeing her in a coffin, would be the way I see her, my sister, for last time, and I was afraid that it was going to be soon before that became a reality.
I remember a time, as we were kids, when my sister, Chelsea, was around 8 years old, my little brother, Chase, about 3 years old, and I about 6 years old. My mother had called us over to come to her. So all three of us linked together by arms stumbled over to her as she sat …show more content…
One of her passions was school. She loved learning so much and did everything possible to become a pediatric oncology nurse, a children’s nurse in the cancer field. She received treatment in Grand Rapids Michigan, where Chelsea and my mother traveled forty minutes to every single day for 8 months. The forty minutes to Grand Rapids and forty minutes back to Kalamazoo never stopped her from missing a single day of class though. As she was hurt from the burns of radiation and sick from the chemotherapy pill she was taking at the same time, her doctor had recommended a note for her professors to notify them of her condition, and that she may need to miss several class periods. Chelsea was a great listener, especially when it came to hearing what her doctors had to say, but she certainty didn’t always agree. She honestly couldn’t care any less whether the doctors thought she could take classes and undergo her treatment at the same time, she wanted to do it and so she did. I can remember the look on her face when the doctor mentioned the note. She raised her right eyebrow and squinted her big brown eyes just a little bit, tilted her head, and then looked at her doctor and with a very jokingly voice, almost laughing at the same time, said, “What do I need a note for? I’m not missing any classes.” The thought of missing a class was completely ridiculous in her mind. If she were able to get around, maybe by walking, maybe by wheelchair on her weak days, she’d be there. She would be there, carrying a plastic bag in her purse for her frequent vomiting, her catheter for her lungs attached to the bottle to drain her lungs when they filled back up with blood, she would be there in class at Western Michigan University, with not a single complaint, grateful to be there and to do the
I remember a time, as we were kids, when my sister, Chelsea, was around 8 years old, my little brother, Chase, about 3 years old, and I about 6 years old. My mother had called us over to come to her. So all three of us linked together by arms stumbled over to her as she sat …show more content…
One of her passions was school. She loved learning so much and did everything possible to become a pediatric oncology nurse, a children’s nurse in the cancer field. She received treatment in Grand Rapids Michigan, where Chelsea and my mother traveled forty minutes to every single day for 8 months. The forty minutes to Grand Rapids and forty minutes back to Kalamazoo never stopped her from missing a single day of class though. As she was hurt from the burns of radiation and sick from the chemotherapy pill she was taking at the same time, her doctor had recommended a note for her professors to notify them of her condition, and that she may need to miss several class periods. Chelsea was a great listener, especially when it came to hearing what her doctors had to say, but she certainty didn’t always agree. She honestly couldn’t care any less whether the doctors thought she could take classes and undergo her treatment at the same time, she wanted to do it and so she did. I can remember the look on her face when the doctor mentioned the note. She raised her right eyebrow and squinted her big brown eyes just a little bit, tilted her head, and then looked at her doctor and with a very jokingly voice, almost laughing at the same time, said, “What do I need a note for? I’m not missing any classes.” The thought of missing a class was completely ridiculous in her mind. If she were able to get around, maybe by walking, maybe by wheelchair on her weak days, she’d be there. She would be there, carrying a plastic bag in her purse for her frequent vomiting, her catheter for her lungs attached to the bottle to drain her lungs when they filled back up with blood, she would be there in class at Western Michigan University, with not a single complaint, grateful to be there and to do the