NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION

In my English class we have been writing short stories that teach a lesson. For the story thought the lesson should not be of telling the truth, or minding your manners; but of something I've learned and actually practice. In 15 years of dealing with Sickle Cell, you learn what mental things affect your body. One of the most important lessons I've learned is to always have a good spirit. Normally I do but there was a day during the transplant where I really let go of my happy-go-lucky attitude. It was a bad decision. Even if I wasn't in transplant. Here is the story...


In a bright pink room in Children's Hospital of Philadelphia, the family sat uneasily waiting. Kwame thought to himself, the pink walls, single dresser, extra chairs, and parent bed were all sort of depressing. He thought the almost broken Play Station, television, and laptop were all desperate attempts to entertain the paranoid children. He didn't consider himself paranoid. In attempts to keep him occupied, the nurses brought in a Nintendo Wii for him to play with. The room had too many lights, in his opinion, there was always a glare from the lamps on the television. His father normally got head aches from all of the bright lights. Kwame had been in this room for so long he started to miss the feeling of fresh air, the only window in the room could not open and it saw into the main hallway, not as refreshing as a view of the park across the street would have been. he could tell that his parents were uneasy. They didn't know if things were going as planned or on schedule. Kwame normally joked at a time like this to lighten the mood, but there was nothing he could think of that would have been appropriate to say. With mother so tense and father tapping his foot in the corner, he could tell any joke wouldn't be funny.
Entering the room and breaking the silence, the nurse says, "The blood bank just and said the marrow is being harvested".
"OK, thank you," Mother says taking a deep breath trying to silence her worries. She turns to her son in the hospital bed next to her and asks, "What are you thinking?"
"Nothing!" he answers, not sure what he should be thinking.
He had been in hospital before so it wasn't scary; he wasn't in pain or any discomfort. But he knew that saying he was fine would be a lie.
"What are you thinking, mom?" he asked her in hopes that it would reveal his feelings.
"I'm not the patient, nothings happening to me," she paused, "but I'm nervous and anxious and excited and scared--"
"In other words, you don't know what your feeling," he says sarcastically, turning over to look at the television.
"Finish your lunch, son, before it gets cold.", his father said.
"I'm just going to throw it up, I can't keep anything down."
Kwame felt he had become too familiar with the bathroom. It was very spacious. It contained a sink, toilet, and a shower. With blue ducks as wall paper. The room had handle bars everywhere to keep patients from falling.
"From all of the meds?" his father asks
"I guess.", he says trying to end the conversation. He felt very uncomfortable with the situation. Having a bone marrow transplant, he was fine with, it was the fact that it was coming from his sister. She had never been hospitalized-or sick- and now she's in an Operation Room just for him.
"What has to happen to her?" he asks referring to his sister.
"I can answer that," the nurse said reentering the room with a bag of dark red blood, "She had to lay on the table, she was sleep, a needle is placed in her waist to extract this bags amount of blood. It was pretty quick!"
"Oh," the family says in unison.
"She'll be up soon." the nurse said putting an anti rejection medication in his IV.
The medication made him sleepy. As he drifted into a deep sleep he only heard murmurs from his parents and the nurse.

As Kwame was sleeping he thought of what was making him so grumpy and angry. Normally he was a very pleasant person. He always had a smiled that could brighten up a room. But for the last couple of days he noticed that his mood was making him sick. He thought maybe it was because of the new environment, he had never been in this hospital for more than a day. Or maybe it could have been the pressure of everyones eyes on him. Kwame will be the first patient with Sickle Cell to get a Bone Marrow Transplant, so the entire Sickle Cell community was watching him. Even though he knew everyone was just showing support and how proud they were of him, he didn't like the spotlight. It made him feel like if for any reason the procedure didn't work, it would be entirely his fault.
He started to remember all of the doctors on TV saying that the mind controls every part of your body and controls what you feel or not feel. Still in a deep sleep, Kwame started to disagree again with the celebrity doctor who want someone to buy a pill to help with something a regular pep-talk could fix. He knew that if he stayed in this glommy mood it would cause him to be even more sick. This scared him because he didn't like the thought of adding more risks to those already brought on by having the procedure at his age. He was 15 and he understood that the older you are the more your body will try to reject bone marrow from another person. He started to think about the summer fun he was missing to have it done. But just as he was getting sad again, Kwame made himself a promise. He promised himself to keep an even happier mood than he had before. The promise came from his thoughts of summers to come. He had never really spent a summer with his friends because of Sickle Cell. The pain and discomfort it caused him was too great for him to play outside all day like he wanted. Once he is officially cured he will be able to spend time with his friends as the TV shows showed. He imagined his own sitcom where he and his friends joked and played games all day long. He imagined himself never having to stop to catch his breath, rest, or take water breaks. He imagined a life like he always wanted. Simple, worry free, and painless.
When Kwame awoke it was very late. The blinds on the window were closed, it was dark in the room. The only light came from the television. Another celebrity doctor commercial was on at the time. Other visitors had came by and left cards and candy. His mother was still lying next to him, she looked less worried. His father was in his sister's room. She had to stay over night just for observation. He asked the nurse that was in the room changing the bag of fluids if his little sister was okay. She stepped out of the room without answering, once she reentered his sister was with her. He got up and gave her a hug thanking her.

The next morning as breakfast arrived Kwame forced himself to eat. On the tray there was a few pancakes, a bagel, some yogurt, and an apple juice. Remembering his promise he ate, slowly. First he pured the syrup a nurse had brought in a few days ago when he was eating, on to the pancakes. Cutting them he felt his stomach getting upset but he continued. Eating one piece at a time, he thought to himself the pancakes tasted better than the hospital food he was used to. He washed it down with some apple juice. Next he tried the bagel, it wasn't hot but he thought tasted great. By then he started to think the reason everything tasted so well was because he was so hungry. He threw up shortly afterwards, before he got to the yogurt, but keeping his promise he didn't get sad about it. He forced himself to drink the rest of the apple juice too. When sanitation came to clean the room he talked to them. They talk about the current events going on in the "outside world", and new music, movies, and video games. He played games with the Child Life Department's Staff to pass time. Normally he thought the games they played were to childish for him. But keeping his promise he agreed to play.
He noticed he had more energy than he did in the last week. He was even allowed to do mild exercise in his room. The transplant doctors even said that he was progressing well ahead of schedule. Every morning they check in they always had good news about his blood counts. He was proud of himself. He felt he accomplished his goal. He felt the Sickle Cell community could take pride in him. Soon he stopped throwing up after meals. He was released from the hospital before they had planned because he was doing so well. With a new pride in himself, he committed to keeping this mood and not letting things get him down.



My New Years Resolution is to stay positive, healthy, and and strong.

```````HAPPY`NEW`YEARS````````