Lost and Found

It’s strange how you don’t really realize how thankful you are for something until you come close to losing it. For example, I appreciate electricity, a whole lot more after I have to go without it for a few hours, or days due to a hurricane or storm. Or, when I get sick and have to stay home, I find myself to be more thankful for the majority of the time, when I am healthy. There’s so many things that I take for granted, much more than just electricity and a healthy body. I never really thought about all the things and people I take for granted until I almost lost my cousin. His near death experience inspired me to cherish and invest in my family relationships.

I was born on September 19, 1993 in the back bedroom of my grandparent’s house. My parents wanted to avoid unnecessary medical intervention, so I was delivered at home by a midwife. Twelve days later, on October 2, my cousin Aaron was born in a hospital. Our lives began, and still are, to this day, very different. He was raised by divorced parents. My parents have been together forever. He has one older sister, who fought with him a lot. I have two brothers and two sisters, and for the most part, we got along pretty well. Not only were Aaron and I raised in different homes, but our temperaments are very different. He seemed to fight all the time. I did whatever I could to prevent, or run away from conflict of any kind. As kids, it seemed like we had a lot of time to spend together, but then, as we grew older, our lives seemed to grow apart, especially in high school.

In central Florida it seems like we only have a few weeks of winter. Usually, those cool weeks happen in January. It was in January, about two years ago when Aaron was Bay-Flighted, or taken by helicopter to a children’s hospital. One of his lungs was rapidly filling with fluid. The doctor said that if they didn’t drain his lung of the fluid, then his internal organs would start shutting down. He had some form of pneumonia. I believe that they had to put him into a coma-induced state so that he wouldn’t go into shock. I cannot really remember the exact procedure. It’s funny how the memory works, some details I can remember, and others are just a hazy fog.

My dad and I drove to the hospital on the second night of Aaron’s hospital stay. The drive there was very quiet and somber, as my dad doesn’t usually talk very much. I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect, but as I walked through those hospital doors, I could instantly smell sickness. Every time I go inside a hospital or a nursing home there’s always that distinctive smell. Could it be the smell of death crouching at each patient’s door? At this thought, I feared even more for my cousins young life.

I thought I was prepared to see him, but what I saw, put me into a frenzied shock, he was still unconscious. I saw a pale, thin body. His hair was shaggy, and plastered to his forehead from dried sweat. I hated to see all those plastic tubes stuck in his arms. Could this sick defenseless person really be my cousin? I prayed silently to God, pleading for his life. I had never known my cousin to be so vulnerable before. Normally, he came across to me as a strong, determined and confident person. He was always the irascible and fiery one as a kid. Though our hospital visit was brief, I realize that it has impacted me forever.

After a few weeks of heavy medication, and much intensive care, Aaron got better and was able to come home. He was different, he changed somehow. He seemed happier. He wasn’t as easily angered like he used to be and strangely… he was more affectionate and loving. I couldn’t decide which of us had changed more. I felt a strong desire to grow closer to all of my family members, to create lasting memories together. He doesn’t remember much of what happened, but I do. I expressed to him how scared and grave I’d felt for his life, but I also tried to lighten up the memory by reminding him that I saw him in a diaper. He just laughs, denies it, and says that that might be me one day. I laugh in response and remember that now I’m a little more grateful for all that I’ve been given, especially Aaron. Sometimes it takes a near-death experience, the thought of losing someone you love, to really get you thinking about the treasure you really have with each relationship.