Emma Spike-Neaman 10-18-13 Per.

1 Fictional Narrative The Waves of Fear It was a cold, November night and we were sitting by the fireplace watching our favorite show, Dancing with the Stars. A strong wind howled and shook the tall trees outside, but inside warm air circulated in the small apartment. I was lying on the couch with a thick blanket draped over me. I was nine years old and in 4th grade. As I slowly drifted to sleep, something caught my eye. A peanut-shaped bump casually sat on the top of my foot. I put my hand over the strange bump. It was as hard a rock, and it was a perfect circle. It wasnt painful. It was just so weird and out of place. Its just a figment of your imagination. You wont need surgery. I told myself and went back to sleep. The next day, I felt the top of my foot. It was still there. and so I told my mom about it and she told our friend who is a doctor. If it does not hurt, dont worry about it, he casually told us. And we didnt. But then, a couple months later, it started to hurt. It was twice the size and my foot was swelling up. From then, I went down the road of doctors; each one having a different theory about my foot. I went from pediatricians, to dermatologists, and finally to an orthopedist. I had MRIs and X-rays but still nothing that could help me. And all throughout this time, the bump was getting larger and larger. Only when we wanted a second opinion, did we get some results at the San Francisco Orthopedic office in Marin. As I walked through the long hallway, I saw a girl my age on crutches. Little did I know that soon, that poor girl in crutches hobbling along to the doctors office, would be me. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach and questions buzzed through my mind. What if I have to live with this the rest of my life? Would I need surgery? If I need surgery, what if it goes wrong? What if I never wake up? I took a deep breath as I opened the heavy door. Inside I saw dark orange walls with some comfy couches on one side of the waiting room.

Emma? Please follow me to Dr. Artezonis office. The lady at the front desk said. Here it goes. Dr. Artezoni, a tall woman with blonde hair and blue eyes, walked in to small room. We told her about my situation and she told us I have had many patients like this. I have seen the MRIs and the X-rays. I think that you have a benign tumor in your foot. She informed us. Both fear and relief seeped though me. She knew what it is but it was tumor. Wwait.Arent tumors cccancerous? I sputtered. There are different types of tumors. There are malignant tumors, which are cancerous, and benign tumors, which are not. You have a benign tumor, she explained with understanding eyes. A deep sense of trust welled up inside of me. As if I knew right from the start that I was finally in good hands. What do we do about it? my mom inquired, although we both knew the answer. A small incision will have to make on the top of your foot. She solemnly stated. Suddenly, all of the trust that I had just felt was gone. In its place was a mixture of fear, panic and nervousness. Dont worry. Everything is going to be fine. Right, doctor? My mom ensured me. Yes. Everything will be fine. I need some time to figure out the exact details. Lets see. Whats today? The 22 of February, 2011. Right? She asked as she scribbled down some information. So I guess I will see you week, Emma. By then I will have a date set to when you will have your surgery. Hopefully as soon as possible. Goodbye! She called as we walked out the door. The next week she informed us that I would have the surgery done on March 11th. She said that I would be under a type of sleep medicine called General anaesthesia, which would put me to sleep completely. Every is going so fast I thought as I fell over onto a couch. Turns out, that I had fainted.

So for the next two weeks, I had to pretend that I wasnt having surgery and every passing day got me one step closer. It was the night of March 10th and I woke up in the middle of the night, sweating. Id had terrible dreams of sharp knives, and sleeping forever, and an even a fake foot. In the morning, I had heard from my mom that a terrible tsunami had crashed onto the shores of Japan. This is a bad omen. Something is going to go wrong, I thought as I put my cloths on. As we got in the car, panic started to rise in me. Every bump of the car on the Golden Gate Bridge, made my stomach churn. We arrived at the parking lot where we stood waiting for the elevator. Every step brought me closer and closer to the hospital. We open the tall, glass, door of Saint Francis hospital and walked into the busy lobby. As my mom filled out some papers, I ran through the list of good things that would come out of this surgery. I would be rid of this bump. I would miss school for two weeks. But that didnt help. A nice lady led us to the operation room. Suddenly, most of the things from my dream came true. The sharp knives, other patients still asleep. Fear engulfed me like the raging waters of Japan. Tears welled up in my eyes. I cant do this. I thought to myself. At that point, I just wanted to turn tail and run. Run far from the operation room. Run far from the hospital. Be brave Emma. Be brave. I took a deep breath and put on the hospital clothing. I lied down and they put a sharp needle into my arm. My vision faded and I remember doctors standing over me. I remember waking with many more doctors standing over me with worried expressions. I was very woozy but I remember one thing. I wanted to go home. I was tired of the hospital. I looked down and saw a huge bandage on my left foot. I tried to wiggle my toes but I couldnt feel anything. I was wheeled over to physical therapy where they taught me how to use crutches. I couldnt believe that they had put me on crutches so fast. Click, click went my crutches on the hard linoleum floor. They gave me Narcotic pain relievers, which is strong pill that makes you feel very tired. On the way back home, my mother explained to me that they struggled to wake me up. That if it werent for the modern technology, I would be in a dead right now.

The thought gave me shivers. As I put my head down for a quick nap, I recalled the events that had just happened. The next two weeks were the most boring weeks of my life. Every day I sat on the couch and did anything that would keep my mind busy. I would crutch around the house over and over. Visitors would come and bring me new books, pencils, and madlibs. Even my teacher came ounce to bring me some class work. All throughout this time, I had to keep my foot elevated and a large ice pack under my knee. This was because there is a large blood vessel under my knee that feeds into my left foot. The ice pack was to keep the foot from swelling up. After two long weeks, I finally went back to school. It was a cold, rainy day and my classmates were all up at P.E. The classroom was warm and bright and I was working on my mission project, El Mission de San Juan Capistrano. After about fifteen minutes, kids came streaming through the door and started crowding around my little table. They asked questions like what happened? Why were you gone so long? The fact that each and every one of my peers came to ask me put a wide grin on my face. On that day, ever since I had woken up from the surgery, I had felt the most cared for, like I really was missed during those boring two weeks. All during that time, our school play (Charlie and the Chocolate factory) was getting close to show time. I was going to practices and struggling to get up and down the many stairs in our Multi-Purpose-Room (Gym). I had two-6 worded lines but I still had to stay behind the whole show. On the first night, I remember standing (well ..of sorts) in back, watching the clock, waiting for the show to start. I had a red and white cap on my head that said SALT which stood for Mr. Salts factory. I was one of his workers (Veruca salt). At the end of each night, I was worn down, tired and I just wanted to go to sleep. I wasnt in 95% of the show yet I still had to be backstage for the full 1-hour 45minutes. I sat in a small chair while I watched everyone around me do what I love most, musical theatre. People would say Oh! I feel so bad for you! which didnt make me feel any better. It only made me feel worse. I kept thinking to myself when people say oh I feel so bad for you Im just being reminded that I have a disability. I

dont need that. I need to hear this you are going to be okay. Everything will turnout all right. You will walk again. You might be thinking right now that I probably wish that I hadnt done the play or something had kept it from going on until my foot was better. If you do, youre wrong. The fact that I had struggled, was the very thing that I benefit from every single day. I quote Kelly Clarkson What doesnt kill you makes you stronger. All that time, I had kept my head up. I learned that you have to push through when life challenges you. That if you are down, the only place to go is up. I stayed determined, and I knew somehow, someway that the next musical would be a better one. And, in the next musical (Beauty and the Beast) I got the lead. No crutches included. Pretty good! Right?