The World Turned Upside Down

It was a cold winter night when I crawled into bed next to my mom. The warm fuzzy blanket was almost enough to put me to sleep but not before I got my Barkey story. This, you see, was a passage into a new world for me; an escape per say. Every night I would curl up and listen to her tell the next story of Barkey’s adventure. This was a character she made up just for me. As we curled under the blankets, I would give details that I wanted to hear in the latest Barkey adventure and drift off into pleasant dreams. That is when my world changed.

Instead of falling asleep in my warm, soft bed; I found myself in a rough recliner in the ICU waiting room of a hospital just days after Christmas. This place was not warm, nor comforting. Instead you could hear the screams of agony as people like me, but often older, lost their loved ones. I was handed off to family members and friends, never knowing where I would be sleeping. The only constant was the same pitying look on their face as I entered my new surroundings. Distraction after distraction, I was never truly shielded from the harsh reality running through my family. While seeing the horrors of both life and death, I found solace in my reading, as well as foosball. I would often visit the quaint hospital library as my family listened to the doctors talk. I could leave this new place of unhappy memories and dive into a world of joy and fantasy. I do not remember much of what I read, as they didn’t have much of a children’s section, but I do remember the relief of escape.

While the tears were making their way down my face, dripping onto the pages, I could see them slowly dissipate as I fell into my own world. Page after page, time seemed to stop and the joy that appeared to be lost forever was returning. Of course not everyday was as harsh, there were good ones. Ones of progress, ones where I saw my gram fighting to take back control of her life. I will never forget the day my gram gained independence again with an electric wheelchair, in my favorite shade of yellow, and finally felt hope. I found hope that this plain place with solemn people and grey walls would become a memory of the past.

My world was yet again turned upside down leaving me disoriented and lost. I had gotten a concussion and was not allowed to watch television or read, or even write. I was only nine … As I tried to read the words of my favorite book I could feel the world spinning around me and the nausea setting in. The activity I had so dearly loved was now nearly torture. One word might take five minutes, sometimes more just to come into focus. Looking back, I realize I could relate closely to Malcom X when he said in his narrative, “I not only wasn't articulate, I wasn't even functional.” I felt unable to accomplish anything except basic needs. I had been out of school for almost four months, and was quickly falling behind. My saving grace was audiobooks. With these, I no longer had the temptation to sneak a peek at the television, prolonging my recovery. We could not find many of my favorite books, so instead I learned about the Trojan War and how lions cohabitate. Slowly I started regaining my physical strength through therapy. I started out slow, remembering the names of the past presidents. This seemingly easy task took weeks to accomplish. In between sessions and doctors, I went back to the rehabilitation center to see my gram. Although what I dealt with was nothing compared to what she endured, I could see our progress along our journeys. I would play cards or work on a word search with her, which she thoroughly enjoyed, to help me regain my strength. At the same time, I would help with her physical therapy by kicking a ball back and forth, which was almost like playtime for me. We had always been best buddies, but now we had shared a larger struggle.

I remember laying in bed when my mom ushered me to get dressed and get into the car. I could see her eyes wide with fear, fear that she had not shown since those days after Christmas. My heart dropped as we walked through the doors of that cold, dreary hospital. I remember being sat down, and told my gram had a “setback” in her recovery, which I later learned was a heart attack. This time, I did not feel so helpless and meek. As Sherman Alexie had said during his struggles,”I refused to fail. I was smart. I was arrogant. I was lucky.” I had the resources, unlike others, and I knew I could do it. I decided I would finish my journey so that I could help my gram finish hers. The first time I read a full paragraph in eye therapy, we celebrated as if I had won the Olympics. There was no judgement there, only support. As months passed I slowly found myself back on track and working harder than ever. I got to visit my gram more often and show her all the knowledge I had gained. Her journey did not end as mine did... We ended up worlds apart, but always close in my heart.

Looking back, those were some of the best times of my childhood. Although it may seem odd, I had never been so close to my family and so invested in knowledge. I continue to channel the strength my gram had instilled in me to be the best I can and make everyday count. I do not believe I would be as literate and well spoken without these events. You never know when your whole world can be turned upside down, and you cannot prevent it. Instead, you can persevere and overcome. Even today, I use reading as an escape from the harsh reality of life. After walking such a hard path, school felt easier and mountains became hills. As they say, everything happens for a reason. I may not understand the full purpose of these events, but I do know some good came out of it and that literacy will always be a part of me.

Works Cited

Alexie, Sherman. “The Joy of Reading and Writing: Superman and Me.” 50 Essays. 3rd ed.,edited by Samuel Cohen, Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2011

X, Malcolm. “Learning to Read.” 50 Essays: A Portable Anthology. Ed. Samuel Cohen. New York: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2011. 257-266. Print.