My parents spent the greater part of my preschool years assuming I would grow up to be a serial killer. As any parent probably knows, there is a time in a child’s life where they do not understand the concept and capabilities of death. It was during this period in my life that my parents decided it was acceptable to give me my own pet guinea pig. While I do not particularly remember this guinea pig, who I lovingly named Jenna, I do remember very vividly the moments leading up to her brutal death. It was a playdate like any other, which meant that I was sitting in my room playing absentmindedly with another preschool aged girl who I was not particularly fond of while my mind drifted off into a sort of dark daydream that one would not generally
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One toss was not enough for my senseless five year old self, however, so I picked up that limp ball of fur and threw it against the wall over and over again while my playmate watched, unfazed. It was not until later that I was able to grasp the fact that I had caused the death of a living being, and it wasn’t until years after that that I stopped believing that poor Jenna had died because I threw her up too far into the atmosphere where there wasn’t enough oxygen to breathe. My mind had become powerful, even at age five, and it was eager to grow out of the preschool persona that most other children of my age were living with. I find this to be extremely interesting because I am often told that I have an old soul, but I truly just have a brain that is eager to grow and learn and become …show more content…
It was February 15, 2002 on a stormy afternoon in Mchenry, Illinois when I took my first breath. I was a rather fussy baby at that point - loud with fat arms and wide eyes. However, it was not my abnormally thick limbs or the volume of my shrieking that caught the attention of the doctor. Within seconds of the beginning of my life, the doctor gazed into my eyes and noticed something significantly wrong. Had she not seen the pale film over my right eye, I would have gone completely blind in a month. Thankfully, I was able to be rushed to the operating room to have a congenital unilateral cataract removed, but the issue has remained a part of me in my constant doctor’s appointments, regular surgeries, and the way it has affected my schoolwork, softball and chronic pain level. In my time of need, however, my doctor’s have formed a family around me. My regular ophthalmologist calls himself my weird uncle, the doctor that originally caught the cataract contacts my regular doctor every couple years to check up on my status and the receptionist, who I know by name, has told me about how she has a special connection to my file, which happens to be one of the thickest ones in the Shiley Eye Center. I am regularly reminded that my eye issues have been and will be
One toss was not enough for my senseless five year old self, however, so I picked up that limp ball of fur and threw it against the wall over and over again while my playmate watched, unfazed. It was not until later that I was able to grasp the fact that I had caused the death of a living being, and it wasn’t until years after that that I stopped believing that poor Jenna had died because I threw her up too far into the atmosphere where there wasn’t enough oxygen to breathe. My mind had become powerful, even at age five, and it was eager to grow out of the preschool persona that most other children of my age were living with. I find this to be extremely interesting because I am often told that I have an old soul, but I truly just have a brain that is eager to grow and learn and become …show more content…
It was February 15, 2002 on a stormy afternoon in Mchenry, Illinois when I took my first breath. I was a rather fussy baby at that point - loud with fat arms and wide eyes. However, it was not my abnormally thick limbs or the volume of my shrieking that caught the attention of the doctor. Within seconds of the beginning of my life, the doctor gazed into my eyes and noticed something significantly wrong. Had she not seen the pale film over my right eye, I would have gone completely blind in a month. Thankfully, I was able to be rushed to the operating room to have a congenital unilateral cataract removed, but the issue has remained a part of me in my constant doctor’s appointments, regular surgeries, and the way it has affected my schoolwork, softball and chronic pain level. In my time of need, however, my doctor’s have formed a family around me. My regular ophthalmologist calls himself my weird uncle, the doctor that originally caught the cataract contacts my regular doctor every couple years to check up on my status and the receptionist, who I know by name, has told me about how she has a special connection to my file, which happens to be one of the thickest ones in the Shiley Eye Center. I am regularly reminded that my eye issues have been and will be