in my last post i wrote about a mini getaway. a mini getaway that changed my family's life forever, to what extent we still don't know.
August 24th we packed our bags to and were more than ready to start our drive to Toronto, Canada. After a couple of delays and last minute things, Thursday, Aug 25 at approximately 2 am we left NYC and started our trip. After a couple of delays, a longer-than-intended nap, unwanted runarounds we arrived at my uncle's house in Toronto. My youngest sister complained about having to use the bathroom, she had the runs. Of course we assumed it was just a little stomach virus or something she ate, or maybe she ate too much - we thought it was a matter of hours before it would go away.
We were so very wrong. If I could turn back time I would've gone straight to a hospital as soon as we arrived in Toronto, if I could turn back time I would've brought her back with me when I drove back that Monday, Aug 29th - but I didn't. Sadly, no one can turn back time. On Tuesday, Aug 30th my uncle calls my mom telling her that he will be taking Ivette, to the hospital. I was at work when I got my mom's text. I'm not a mom but I feel like I have such a close connection to my sisters, that at that minute I knew something was terribly wrong. I just knew it, I tried to ignore and I even convinced myself that i was overreacting like always. But this time I was terribly right.
It's now Tuesday night, Aug 30th and I bought my mom a one-way ticket to Toronto for the following morning. Took her to the airport the next morning, hugged her and told her that everything was fine and to have a safe flight. The minute I got inside the car again, it's like all my fear and anxiety exploded out of me. I cried, got home, kept crying, and finally text another uncle and asked for the truth about Ivette. He text me back "she's really bad mija."
Thursday, September 1st at noon my family members and mom call me and tell me I should get on a plane and go to Toronto, too. I ran out of school and that night I arrived at the Sick Kids Hospital in Toronto, Canada. And then I saw my sister, just barely one month after turning 15, she was hanging onto life through the thinnest thread; hooked up to machines, she laid lifeless. I have no kids and so to me, my two younger sisters are like my little practice kids, my little dolls - I'm the oldest and so was always raised to take care of them even when I really didn't want to.
I can't explain the feeling I felt when I saw her, and I don't want to imagine what my mother felt. Because to me, I felt like someone grabbed my heart and just didn't let go. I felt this pressure in my chest and all the memories that ran through my head - from when she was a tiny baby, a toddler, her pre-kindergarten picture, her 100 mph talking antics, her need to take 235 pictures of herself every single day (because "jess, these are my memories") - just kept coming and coming, and the emotional pain was something words cannot describe.
Everyone can tell me they understand, but they can't. They didn't see their baby sister at the brink of death - it was just simply devastating.
She was unconscious, her kidneys were completely out, her brain was not responding, and then the dilemma started...what did Ivette have? typical HUS? atypical HUS? First of all, what's hus? What do you mean the kidneys don't work? and why isn't her brain responding? I can't even begin to explain what all of this means, but it's bad. So bad, only 300 have been in diagnosed in the US. So bad, they wanted to try out an experimental drug on her called Soliris. So bad, they didn't know if she will be able walk, talk, or be "her normal self" ever again.
I just wanted my sister alive, off those machines, not in pain. Because Ivette, she is so full of life and this shouldn't have happened to her, not her of all people. Now, I know what you're thinking. EVERYONE SAYS THAT. You're absolutely right. But I'm saying this with facts to back me up.
You see, Ivette is always happy. She never stops talking. Even when she was a baby, always so curious, all over the place - she could never stay still, unless of course you were taking a picture of her. At midnight, she puts music on the computer and sings happy birthday to you. She takes pictures of you just because. She takes pictures of herself just because. She has lots of friends and gets upset when her friends don't "hit her up." After my parents divorce, she was the only one that somehow keeps us connected to our dad. Thinks of cute, cheap ways to give you a gift. She always pitches in for the "gift receipt." If you're having a regular conversation, she turns your words and sings any song that relates. Dances in front of us just because. Makes little music videos. Ivette my mom's baby, but she is also my other sister Stephanie's and mine too. She's our SISTER. I don't think I ever knew how strong that bond was until that very moment. Knowing that Ivette could leave us. The fear that she would never wake up, never walk, never talk. Fear is a very horrible thing but inevitable.
