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Mug Shot
My sister is seven years younger than me. Yes, she is a grown woman, and the mother of two children, but even so, she will always be my younger sister, and I will always advocate for her like a mother.
I wish we lived closer to each other, and never so much as I did last week when I got this text from her.
That was Wednesday. On Thursday, I checked in and she had spent 4 hours in the ER on Wednesday night getting fluids and nausea medicine. Did they check for appendicitis? I asked. She wasn’t sure. My gut was telling me something, but I live in South Louisiana, and she is in Austin, TX. How could I tell her that the ER had been wrong?
What I did tell her was to get in touch with her regular doctor. She did. They gave her an appointment for Friday morning. Are you kidding me?! The mother in me was yelling inside my head. I asked, “Did you tell them your symptoms? Promise me if the pain gets more severe, you will insist on an appointment today!”
Friday came. Her husband and son packed up to leave for Louisiana to go to the LSU football game. Their daughter, my niece, attends LSU. Beth told him to go ahead with his plans, and she would let him know what the doctor said.
Her appointment was mid-morning. I got a text at 12:10 PM:
The CT scan took forever. I didn’t hear from her again until after school around 4 PM. The diagnosis was appendicitis. I broke down. I wanted to get on the next flight to Austin, but I knew that was unrealistic. Instead, I got in touch with her best friend. She assured me she was going to be able to help. I talked to my people (my husband, daughter, and mother). They all advised that she was in good hands, and there was nothing more I could do.
My brother-in-law turned around and headed back home. She was alone, but he would be there when she woke up.
My worry turned to anger. I’m still trying to deal with that side of it. Beth is home and feeling sore, but she will recover. She told me that I “advocate like a mother,” a slogan a friend of hers uses in her advocacy for her trisomy 18 child.
My sister will be fine, but I’ve realized with this incident how fiercely I care about her, as if she were my own daughter. And I will always “Fight like a Mother!”
Reflections on the Teche 