Dad sat at the kitchen table listening. “Why don’t you try and use the bathroom, Brooke?”
The new house in Pennsylvania boasted four bedrooms that quadrupled in size compared to what we had in New York. All Kat and I had in our room was our bed and a small vanity my cousin handed down when she got tired of it.
We struggled to fill all the space; we needed two couches, a real dining room set, and dressers since there was room for them. Most of the furniture was mismatched and thrown together. The best part about the new house were the three bathrooms. Three. One upstairs, one downstairs, one in my parent’s room. Kat and I could get ready for school in the upstairs bathroom while the boys got ready downstairs. It was heaven.
I clicked open Mom’s medicine cabinet and pulled four bottles off the top shelf. White, cream colored and pink pills slid into my hand as I counted out the different dosages. I squeezed my hand around them. The heating pad Mom used for her back was dangling over the edge of the bed and I picked it up as I headed to the door.
I made a friend on my bus, Cristin, and she got her period for the first time two weeks ago. While the unfamiliar pain crippled my stomach I tried to smile through it knowing I was finally going to get to hide tampons in my book bag too.
I stood at the top of the stairs and gripped the handrail. Geeze, this period stuff is no joke. My stomach felt tender to the touch and I shuffled one foot in front of the other. Cristin walked through the front door as I reached the bottom of the stairs. Her voice seemed muffled. My stomach flipped over and I caught my breath.
“Hey, what’s up?” She eyed me, “My dad just dropped me off. You okay?”
I shook my head and doubled over, clutching the pills in one hand, heating pad in the other. Cristin raised her eyebrows and took the heating pad. “I’ll go plug this in, living room okay?”
I couldn’t talk. I nodded my head, forced a smile. Sweat formed around my eyes and lips as I trudged into the kitchen. Mom’s eyes were glued to the TV. A stabbing blow dropped me to my knees and I cried out. “Ah, Mom, it hurts!”
“Brooke?” Mom rolled her eyes, “Oh come on, Brooke. Do you want some ibuprofen? Do you want…”
The kitchen spun into a white cloud. I could hear Mom screaming for Dad as my head hit the kitchen floor. Pills scattered across the linoleum. Mom’s breath engulfed me, she smelled like a smoky teabag. “Hang on, Brooke, Call 9-1-1! Oh my God. David call 9-1-1!”
I woke up confused in a white room surrounded by a curtain. Monitors hummed and needles pulsed under my skin on both hands.
“Brooke, Brooke honey, you need to wake up.” It was a masked ninja. How’d he know my name?
“Brooke I’m Dr. Destachio. You need to wake up sweetheart. You’re just coming out of surgery now.”
A nurse to my left pushed the bed and I realized I was being whirled into a room. Suddenly pain radiated through my stomach up into my throat. My body shook in waves. “Pain…Pain medicine, please. Please.”
Dr. Destachio smiled. “You got it kiddo.” He fumbled a tube going into my right hand. “There you go, gave you some good stuff. I’ll be back to check on you soon.”
I didn’t understand what was happening but I couldn’t stay awake long enough to talk to anyone. Mom was there at one point but the weight of my eyelids wouldn’t let me see her. I heard voices. Dr. Destachio’s voice.
“If you would have waited any longer...” He trailed off. “Her appendix ruptured as we were removing it. She was very lucky.”
Mom choked out some words, I imagined her crying. “We called 9-1-1 right away, I knew something was wrong when she told me she had a bad stomach ache. She’s a little stubborn to see doctors but I told her it was important we get her to the hospital.”
“You did the right thing. If she needs anything, just let us know.”
I woke up hours later and squinted while the sun turned my room a bright orange before fading to black. A voice echoed from the TV. Mom shifted in the oversized hospital lounger and flipped through Dr. Phil re-runs.
“Mom?” I didn’t recognize my voice.
Mom shimmied out of the chair and set her tea on the table next to her. She lowered herself to my side. “It doesn’t hurt,” I said, following her eyes to the tubes sticking out of me.
She smiled and reached across the bed and tucked a Precious Moments doll next to my face. Angelic eyes stared back at me, wrapped in fleece. It smelled like a hospital doll. “Daddy got you this when you were in surgery, to look over you.”
Over the next few hours the doctors wanted me to eat some crackers and walk around so the gas they used to fill my stomach for surgery would loosen up. It hurt to walk, to sit, to laugh at my Grandpa when he called me on the hospital phone and told me if I scared him like that again he would put me in the hospital next time.
“Well, we’d like to keep you another day, Brooke. Your appendix was pretty infected. We just want to make sure nothing got into your bloodstream to make you sick.” Dr. Destachio flashed his crooked front tooth. I glanced at my mom shifting in the seat beside my bed. She was in pain when she did that. “Unless you’re really feeling okay to go home. You’d just have to take it extra easy the next couple of days.”
The hospital was a vacation. I had slept more in the past two days than I had in years. I had a team of watchful adults all catering to me. I never wanted to leave.
“If it’s okay, I want to go home.” I struggled to say the words, but I knew Mom needed to be in her own bed. It only meant more pain for her if she wasn’t.
A nurse helped me into a wheelchair while Mom brought the car around to the front of the hospital. Dad stood at my side. I flinched when he slid his hand to smooth the top of my hair. “You’re very brave. And you were a very good girl while we were here.” I pretended not to hear him as I watched a young mother get into the car in front of us.
I struggled to get into the van but soon we were pulling onto the highway and headed home. The Precious Moments doll sat at my side and I picked her up. There was a string attached to the bottom as I flipped her over. Soft lyrical music filled the air and my stomach sank. Dad smirked and watched the outside scenery float by. Was this some kind of joke? Mom glanced at me in the rear view mirror and softly mumbled the words to the song. “Hush little baby, don’t say a word…”
For two weeks I was untouchable while I healed from surgery. Mom put a little bell next to my bed and all I had to do was ring it for a snack, pain medicine, or for the remote. Kat ran in to help me most of the time, which she was happy to do as long as I didn’t show her my wound.
As I healed I caught up on school work and looked through Seventeen Magazines that Cristin dropped off. She spent most of her afternoons entertaining me from my bedside. I yelled at her a lot to stop making me laugh since it felt like my insides would spill out when I did.
Soon I stopped taking the pain medication the doctor prescribed and ibuprofen was enough to make me comfortable. I put the pill bottle on top of the TV in my room just in case I needed it. Walking around was easier. I was allowed to go back to school in a week. My days dragged, and I daydreamed out the window waiting to hear the bus for Adam, Thomas and Kat to come home.
Mom was out at the grocery store. Dad was working overnights and usually didn’t get out of bed until around five. When my bedroom door creaked open, I rolled over in bed expecting to see Cristin.