FRESH THOUGHTS 2016
PRIZE WINNERS First Prize Next Time) I)ll Take a Taxi Lee Clark
Forever Diana Milkey
Third Prize Millennials in Motion Holly Chernick
Honorable Mention To the Other Side ef the World Michel Pinard
FIRST PRIZE Forever
T
here is not a person in my life who enjoys hospitals. I can think of maybe one or two that enjoy the smell of a hospital, and a marginally larger number that enjoy the sterility, but I cannot think of anybody that enjoys being there. I am no stranger to this group; at times, the mere thought of one is enough to make my skin crawl. Of course, there was a time when I had no issue with them. Hospitals were, to me, as important as the police station or fire department; one saved you from natural disasters, one saved you from people, and one saved you from all of the above and more. To me, this sounded like a place heroes re sided; it was a kind of heaven that only the well-educat ed and caring people of the world could ascend to, and they would continue to serve the distressed once they arrived. I came to learn that this much was true, but the hero's life was not for me, and, despite what my body told me, neither was the life of the distressed.
My earliest memory of a hospital trip is, in a word, spotty. The memories come in episodes, as if I hadn't been able to think in a coherent string yet. I can't remember if I was six or seven, but all those years seem to blend together at this point. All that I knew then was that Blues' Clues was my sister's favorite show, and any idea that Steve had in the Thinking Chair was automatically the best idea in the world. A rubber band guitar that required a parent's assistance was nothing for two grown up girls such as my sister and me. A cut meant for a rubber band instead found its way to my finger, and I found my way to the hospital. The nurses were kind and quiet, and the doctor is now only a ghost in my memory. A ghost, I remember, that surgically glued my finger back together. I only had a short span of two or three years before my sister had her turn. This, however, was a bit more involved. My father picked me up one day from
Diana Milkey a friend's house and asked me if I knew was diabetes was. Being nine with roughly ten kids in my third grade class, I responded with a simple "no." I found out several hours later in a room at Children's Hospital Boston. What was more, I found out that mom had not slept in several days, that Sis had to have needles every day from now on, and that Dad was the one and only king of steeling his emotions. The confusion I had was endless. She could no longer eat candy; she needed to test her blood first. What sort of an illness was this? It sounded more like a personal hell. I never cried for her, but I certainly felt bad for her. I remember sitting on the windowsill and watching her sleep with IV drips in her arms like those people on hospital shows. What she must have been going through was scary, unimaginable to me. The doctor told me she would have it forever. That's a very long time! How could anybody cope with something they have to have forever? My mom and dad would be together forever, but they chose that. My sister did not choose this. "God makes everything happen for a reason," my mom would say. "We may not know his plan, but we have to trust it."With fourth grade came all-new, exciting sensations. My head felt light, my heart raced, I forgot assignments and important dates, and, best of all, I lost weight Lovesickness was not the diagnosis. Neither was "growing-up," as was my own suspicion. The pediatrician's office was yellow, a quiet, buttery color that reminded me of my bedroom at home. I did not do much of the talking, and I did not do much of the listening, either. There was a transfer of papers, a conversation in the hall, and eventually I was up at Children's Hospital every week-end. Things were explained to me, terms such as "Graves' Disease," "thyroid," and "hormones." I came to learn I had two options: I could remove the offending gland that was producing too much, or I could radiate it, which would involve being isolated for three days and eating rice cakes and egg whites for roughly a week.