Dear Pediatric Stroke,

You’ve been with me ever since I’ve be young. I’m not really sure when I got you, but the effects will still remain. You have given me so unnecessary things that I wish you could take it back. You really should return the cerebral palsy, ADD, anxiety, MTHFR, and more. I hate all of them.

The files of all my medical issues weigh me down, and the more time goes on the heavier they get, and will never cease to shrink. With one issue comes another, and another, there is no end in sight. With my damaged brain from a pediatric blood clot that you gave me, I try to rewire everything slowly throughout time. I will never be the same, and no one will ever see me the same.
If I had the option to take it away I would. Though the weight is too heavy for anyone else to bear. I carry this, for in my heart I know, that I'm glad I suffered this trauma. For if anyone else that I care for did, I do not believe I could live with my self.

As the clean white walls surround my being I slowly get wheeled into my room. There lies a single bed plain as day, and a tiny window for a sense of the real world as the endless days and nights drag on. The TV rings out in the silence of the residency floor as my caretaker, Wade, gives me something to pass time while I wait for another test. Every 4 hours a different set of uniforms walk in to take my vitals. I can hardly sleep, and the bed sores are coming into place, which does not help my sleep deprivation. The IV pushes into my hand no matter what muscle that I move. The pain is excruciating and no one knows whats wrong. As my medical team run tests and switch me from place to place, the less answers I receive. I’m surrounded by professionals, and I still lie here helpless, and afraid for what happens next after the newest tests run inconclusive, as usual.

I was only a baby. You hurt a child no more than two. How could you do this to me. My family worries for me constantly. The pain you put them through, and put me through, it’s too much. The endless nights at the hospital. The days of school I missed for botox. I want you to go away. I want to stop fighting. I want to be normal. So please, leave me alone.

Love,
Katie K.