Bethann Hnatko

Fifteen years ago on a rainy day in some hospital I can not remember, I was born. I was born with a condition called tonic-clonic seizures, also infamously known as grand mal seizures. I was in and out of the hospital for the first three years of my life because the doctors could not control the seizures. Because I shook so violently as an infant, my muscles and bones did not heal the right way. 

          My mother was my hero. She took care of me in every time of need. My mother had to quit her job since I was a full-time job myself, and no one else knew how to take care of me. I had the option to go to school once when I was seven, when they finally had my disease under control. I told my mom I was embarrassed about my body and my random seizures that scared everyone.

She ended up homeschooling me and became my best friend. Our connection was so close, I never wanted to leave the house. She was my backbone. I never did anything without her holding my hand so tight like it was just she and I against the world. 

          Dad worked a lot, trying to pay for the hospital bills. He worked all the time when I was little, so I never saw him. As I started becoming more independent, my mom finally got a job. She only worked nights so she could teach me during the day. My mom always took care of my medicine and always knew just what to do if a seizure was approaching.

Mom and dad fought whenever they saw each other. I wondered if it was about me and my issues. It’s always been a problem. It was either not enough money or not enough family time. They constantly yelled so loud I would cover my ears with my hands, but I could still hear them. They would try not to fight in front of me, but the walls aren’t thick enough to block the tears that flood from their room. 

          I was distraught during one week with waking up to my body shaking like a hundred rocks at the bottom of a volcano waiting to erupt. I didn’t know what happened, if it was the medicine being lazy and not doing its job. Or, maybe it was the stress inside fighting my whole body to see who would win. My mom did everything in her power to help me, but when I was passing out, I saw flashes of my hero crumbling.

          I felt like it was all my fault I was born like this and could not do anything to stop it. I’ve thought about taking all the pain and stress away from all of our lives, but I knew I was my mother’s best friend too. I pondered if the pain of me being gone would compare to the pain of her life being a tornado just like mine. 

          My mom had to go into work late one night. She tucked me in and said, “You are my special little angel. I love you very much and nothing in this world could change that.” 

          As she proceeded to tell me how much she loved me. Her cries were so loud, that her wheezing sounded like she smoked a pack of cigarettes a day. She never let me see her cry this much. I was scared. I fell asleep to my mom rubbing my back so delicately. The feeling of her bitten fingernails lingered up and down my back. Her touch comforted every bone in my body. I didn’t even hear her leave the house.

          Little did I know, she left for work and never came home. As I woke up in a panic, I called her more times than I could count. I left as many messages I could to fill her mailbox. I did not get any response. I called my dad and told him what had happened and he came home immediately. 

          When my worried father got home from work, he searched her drawers and dressers to see if she’d left anything behind. There was nothing in them. Dad was completely in shock about how my mom could just leave us, especially when we needed her the most. His anger has taken him into a new state of mind. As his rage kicked in, he flipped his whole room upside down. I could hear him from the kitchen table. Finally, I didn’t hear a sound coming from his room. I was starving while waiting for dad for dinner, so I ran in his room while shouting, “Dad, hurry up! I’m so hungry.”

          I saw him sitting on the bed, with his hands covering his face and a letter lying next to him with mom’s handwriting. He said, “Honey, come here, there is something I have to show you.” I took the letter that smelled like her perfume and her cursive writing complimenting the paper. I sat on the stained pink carpeted floor with my legs balled up to my chest. I took a deep breath and started to read.

          “My dear, precious family, I cannot stay here anymore. I am not happy and everything I do tears me apart every day. I feel as if I am nothing. I need to go away for a while. Take care of my baby for me. I know I am an awful parent for leaving, but I did not know that this is what my life has come down too.”

          My mother didn’t know that when she felt like nothing, she was my everything. My dad was doing everything he could to help me since my mom left, but he didn’t know how to take care of me the same way. He couldn’t quit his job since it was our only income. 

          Dad was biting his lips, almost making them bleed because he didn’t want to leave me. I told him I was fine. I lied to him every day and said, “I could do my work by myself and that I was going to survive without her.” Then I faked smile and walked him to the door, trying to reassure him every way I could to make him believe me.

          He still came to check in on me every day on his lunch break and even went to work late until I took my medicine. I could tell that my mother leaving affected dad too. He never let me see him cry or he wouldn’t talk about her. I could see the anger running through his veins. Most importantly, I could see mom’s depression trying to creep into my dad’s mind.

Since dad was so tired at night he went to bed right after dinner. I hated that I was alone. I cried every day and wrote my mom letters apologizing for the way I have ruined her life and our family. I felt like I was in a deep hole with nothing surrounding me. When I showered I sobbed, trying not to be too loud so dad didn’t hear me. I didn’t even recognize myself. I did not want to be in the house locked up anymore. Truthfully, I did not want to be anywhere.

          The worst night of my life was a Sunday night. It was pouring outside. I couldn’t hear myself think. All I could hear was the rhythm of my cries joining the rain like a ballad. I was staring at my seizure medicine, trying not to picture my mom saying, “You are stronger than this.” But since she wasn’t around, I felt like she didn’t believe in me, so why should I believe in myself? The medicine was silently inching its way towards me. I knew it would poison my brain to take all of it. So I did. Or at least I tried to.

          My dad woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, but checked on me first. I was lying in my bed with my empty bottle of medicine. He was appalled at what I had done. He didn’t notice how depressed I truly was; from crying myself to sleep or pretending to smile when he was home. In his panicked mind all he knew what to do is call the ambulance to get his little girl fixed. 

          As both of our bodies were soaking wet from his tears and the rain, my dad drove to the hospital. He told them, “I wasn’t aware of what happened. She just...took them. I wasn’t watching her. I was sleeping. I thought she was okay.”

          The doctors said, “We’re going to do everything we can to save your daughter.”

          Dad was trying to hold himself together by not giving up hope of the doctors saving my life. I was all he had left. What I didn’t notice I was doing the same exact thing my mom had done to us, but a stronger pain that would have ruined my family for the rest of our lives.

          My body was shocked more violently than I have ever felt. They were trying to help me survive with paddles and electric shocks. It was so painful and abrupt that I could feel every nerve trying to wake up. I knew I was not awake yet. It’s like I was transported into another universe in my head.

          I saw my mom standing over me, I was lying in my bed at home. In my mind, I could hear my mother’s voice again. She had said, “I should have never left and I am immensely sorry for leaving you every day without a mother. All of my days have been pitiful without you and I miss you every day.”

          But before I could say a word back, I started feeling my toes tingle all the way up to my fingertips. I felt my eyelashes brush on my eyelids. I woke up surrounded by doctors.

          They told me, “You are very lucky.”

          I replied to them saying, “Yes, I know. I have my dad who loves me unconditionally. He will never leave.”