1994, September 4 11:55pm

Midnight was near and I had been in labor for about six hours and I was finally on my last push. Okay. One…..two…….three…push! I pushed as hard as I could and gave birth to a beautiful girl named Annie.

The nurses cleaned her up and then the moment came. The moment I got to hold my little girl for the first time. The instant I saw those rosy red cheeks, I was overwhelmed with joy and happiness; but at the same time I sensed something was wrong. I shoved that feeling into the back of my mind and focused on what was more important. I gave her one last kiss before the nurses took her to the nursery.

1994, September 7 6:30pm

Finally, I got to bring Annie home. I think she really enjoyed home especially the dog. She laughed, giggled and had a ton of fun for a few months. But when six months came around, I started noticing some changes in her behavior. She would barely eat, always have diarrhea, and even stopped breathing in her sleep. I thought maybe it was just something babies did, so I brushed it off. Then one day I was preparing to feed her and suddenly she passed out in her high chair. My first thought was to panic, but that would not help the situation at all, so I grabbed the phone and dialed 9-1-1.

1994, March 20 10:30 pm

As soon as we walked through those sliding glass doors, the doctors jabbed her with needles, inserting IV’s and taking blood, to run it through some tests. I said my final goodbyes as the doctor wheeled her away in preparation for a CAT scan, then I walked over to the waiting room. When I went to sit down, I changed my mind and stood right back up. I couldn’t sit down, because I had this over whelming feeling inside me like my insides were being torn to pieces. I didn’t know what to think or feel, or even what to do, so I did the most common thing to do in these kinds of situations, I started pacing. Then the doctor came out and asked me to please sit.

1994, March 20 11:15 pm

He started out by telling me that Annie was stable, for now. “For now?” I thought aloud. “What do you mean?” “What I am trying to say is that Annie has a very rare disease that goes by the name of Stefilism.” He went on, “what this disease does is that it will freeze the brain and that action leaves the body on full lockdown. None of the organs will function, not even the heart. As the body gets older and grows, so does the disease, resulting in these “brain freezes” lasting longer and longer each time they occur. The outcomes also progress higher up the dangerous scale; thus resulting in a coma, and even worse, death.”

“Death,” I repeated over and over in my head. Before I could stop myself, salty tears of anger and worry started down my face. The doctor put a hand on my shoulder, “It gets worse.” “Worse?! What’s worse than this?” I asked with fear hidden behind every word. You could tell that he didn’t want to reply, but he did. “Your daughter’s already at Stage Five of the disease and each stage goes up with every year that your body obtains it.” He continued, “And at Annie’s age, she should only be at Stage One.” “So what your trying to say is—“ He interrupted, “What I’m trying to say is that if this disease keeps progressing at the rate it has been, Annie’s heart will freeze, permanently, by the time she is five.” By now I was uncontrollably sobbing. I tried to collect myself to a point where I could look at the doctor’s face, but I couldn’t. I blamed him so much for this, but yet I knew it wasn’t his fault. The doctor stood up and with his most sincere voice he told me that he would come get me when Annie was awake, and that he will keep my little girl in his thoughts and prayers.

1994, March 21 1:15am

An hour had passed before the doctor came and took me to Annie’s room. As we walked through the heavy wooden door that had kept me from my little girl for so long, or at least it seemed that way, I saw her lying helplessly in the middle of the room. Annie was surrounded by so many cords and tubes that I couldn’t even count all of them. Medicine was entering her body from every angle imaginable, and I couldn’t bear to see her like that. I turned around and let the heavy wooden barrier shut between once again.

1994, May 10 3:00 pm

A few months had passed and I was finally allowed to take Annie home. The doctor advised me to monitor her at all times and not to feed her any cold foods, which could more than less, speed up the process of death. I signed the discharge papers and once again walked through the sliding glass doors.

2012, May 10 3:00pm

I was so full of excitement and joy that I could barely keep it to myself, but I promised Annie that I would try not to embarrass her. She had made her way to the podium, cleared her throat and began, “First I would like to say thank you to everybody that came out this afternoon to share this special moment with all of us students, and that we really appreciate it.” She paused, “High school is a journey. A journey I think nobody wants to make. A journey that probably scares the very life out of some of us, but the reason why it scares the life out of us, is because it’s preparing us for the real world. It is not only a journey that makes us better students, better people, and better citizens, but it is a big wake up call. A wake up call that only these very teachers could give to us.” She took a long pause and continued, “As most of you know, I was fighting a deadly disease that was supposed to stop me in my tracks by the age of five. The doctors said that it was most likely impossible that I would live to see six, but I did. I conquered the impossible and made it the possible. Like Robert A. Heinlein once said, ‘Everything is theoretically impossible, until it is done,’ and that is what I stand to prove today. That’s what everybody stands to prove today, so with all the joy and happiness I obtain at this moment, I wish the best of luck to the Class of 2012 on their second and final journey of a lifetime.”

Annie has defied all odds and beat the disease of Stefilism.

She had her last doctor’s visit at the age of 10, and is now preparing to go to college to get her Doctorate Degree, so that she can help all the kids that are going through what she once went through.