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Essay Contest: Antibiotic Coffee
Alone, at the age of twelve, I was crying worse than I ever had before. Never had I wailed if I fell and scraped my knees. Never had I wailed if I got the wind knocked out of me. Never had I wailed if anything had happened to me. Growing up, I had only been around one person with Lyme’s disease, and he was barely able to function, rarely out and about, so now, now I wail.
His name was Itch and he certainly was miserable, this and the fact that I had been warned my entire life about the horrible disease since we were out in the woods for most of my early childhood; it filled me with immense sadness. So when my dad, with a hurry, left the house at nine o’clock telling me he has Lyme’s disease.
I sat on the doorstep for what felt like hours before he got home. I still don’t know if I felt light headed because I thought my dad was going to die or if I had just lost too much fluid to tears.
I took a hockey stick and started slamming it on our hockey net, I was so angry. Why him? Why did it have to be him? Why couldn’t it be the guide he was with on his fishing trip? I threw the stick into the woods and headed back inside to continue crying.
The antibiotics are hurting him, he takes a pill the size of a horse five times a day and is probably more sick from that than the disease. I had been getting him cups of coffee every morning because that was the only way I knew I could help him. three months later he’s cured, and sometimes I like to think it’s partially because of me.
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As a young 12-year-old, this was truly an eye-opening experience as to what people have to go through with every different disease. Everyone has a sick loved one, and everyone goes through things like this.
Also, this is a submission for the Teens Making a Difference competition