The Case of the Missing Medicine

As a child, I was consistently finding myself ill with something. Whether, it be allergies, or something rare, I would somehow find a way to contract it. I am sure living within the eco-friendly area of New York didn't help. While I only lived in New York for a short time, to the ripe old age of 7 years old, I believe my time there played a large role with the childhood asthma I had. When I turned 7 years old, the doctor told my mother that we should relocate out west to California because I was not able to tolerate the air in New York anymore.

Immediately, we move out to my grandmother's house in Pasadena where I experienced my first earthquake. Wow, what a shock! I couldn't have explained the terror to you if I tried. Although I roll right along with them to this day, it was an absolute shock to feel one for the first time as a kid.

Trying to acclimate myself in a new state and school was not easy. But being the resilient child I was, I knew I would be able to jump right in and make new friends right away. As shy as I was, I was still optimistic. Good ol' Ronnie, always seeing the proverbial cup half full.

I start second grade in Monrovia, California, and wouldn't you know it... I suddenly fall ill again, only this time it could have been deadly. I wake up one morning with excrusiating joint pain. When I went to hop out of bed, boom... to the floor I go! I screamed for my mother and as she ran in to help me she was in shock, as she saw sores all over my body.

Quickly, I found myself being rushed to the emergency room. To my terror I found myself being used as a human pin cushion and bulletin board as the doctor rushed in, what appeared to be the entire hospital staff. I felt as if I had a giant microscope over me! I was in such hysterics, that it literally took seven of the hospital staff to hold me down in order to take blood.

The doctor stood there, pointing out the swollen tongue, enlarged joints, and sores all over my body. He explained that these were the symptoms of Kawasaki's Disease, a very rare disease originating from Japan.

Kawasaki disease (KD), also known as Kawasaki syndrome, is an acute febrile illness of unknown cause that primarily affects children younger than 5 years of age. The disease was first described in Japan by Tomisaku Kawasaki in 1967, and the first cases outside of Japan were reported in Hawaii in 1976. (www.cdc.gov)

Wouldn't you know it? I, of course, was the ripe old age of 7 years old. Of course, I would have contracted this. After having several tests done it was confirmed, I, in fact, had Kawasaki's Disease. The doctor explained to my mother that there was no cure and this disease ultimately could cause a heart attack. My mother looked at the doctor in horror as he said that the only medication available was children's aspirin for the fever. She immediately asked God to please grant her more time with me, in hopes of healing.

At this point, I was told I was on bed rest and not able to go to school. To most kids that would seem like the vacation of a lifetime. To me, I was so miserable I just wanted this to go away. I found myself having to go to work with my mother. By this time, she had changed jobs, working in a real estate firm. So, I would sit in a vacant office room for many hours with some toys I brought along for the ride. Remember, this was the 80's. Portable video games, cell phones, and tablets were non-existent. Imaginary friends, barbies, and board games were what helped to pass the time.

My grandparents had moved out with us to California as well, so they were a big help with watching me at times while my mother had to work. They would take me to doctor appointments and help out with other household chores that my mother could not get to.

Every morning, my mother would back a small baggy of aspirin for me to get me through the day. She would tell me to make sure I took them and not to forget. I HATED taking pills. I couldn't stand the chalky taste of these small, pink chewable aspirin. So, in the mornings, when my grandparents would pick me up, I would sit behind grandpa in the back seat. My grandfather would always drive, so it was very easy to see he was preoccupied.

Every day, I would carefully hide a baggy of pills, under grandpa's seat. This was so scary because this aspirin kept my fevers down and helped my heart. However, very diligently, every morning I would hide the pills under his seat.

One day, as we were driving, grandpa had to stop very short. This was literally months later. As he stopped short, all the hidden baggies came flying out under his feet! After his initial shock, he was so angry with me! As you can imagine, my mother was even angrier!

Needless to say, I was able to survive this illness and overcame it. I would never recommend for anyone to not take their medicine. I was just very lucky and wanted to add a little humor to a scary time in my life.