TIFU by being healthy.

When I was a little girl, I had everything in life. A mom, a dad, a home, and happiness. I had a bond with them, one I never thought would be taken from me. But when I was six years old, and I found out my mom was pregnant, I never would have guessed how much this would change our lives. My mom was pregnant for roughly seven months before she went into labor. It was awfully early to have a baby, so she rushed to the hospital to make sure everything would be okay. I don’t remember much, other than being taken to my grandparents, and being left in the dark while tears and looks of confusion and concern filled their faces. When I finally got to visit my baby brother, it was not what I was expecting. Tubes, and needles, and a big clear tube he was trapped under, it broke my heart. I could barely see his skin. But from what I could, it was yellow. I asked what was wrong with his skin, and my mom told me he would be okay. But he had a disease called ‘Cystic Fibrosis’. Cystic fibrosis is a disease that effects your lungs and digestive system, and without proper treatment, the life expectancy isn’t even a year. After many tests upon myself and uncomfortable doctors visits, my results came back negative. I was as healthy as can be. My brother, Jack, was different looking. His skin turned yellow, because his liver failed. Giving him Liver Disease. He went through five surgeries in the first six months of his life, to remove failed body parts, such as his intestines, which, about 65% was removed total, parts of his liver, and his gallbladder. For months I never knew why I couldn’t bring my brother home. I was always left in the dark, I always wondered why I couldn’t help. I remember one day hearing my mom ask my dad if they should stop buying baby products. They thought he was going to die. I went from a happy child with happy parents, to a lonely routine of hospital trips, tears, and being pushed in the big hole of empty unknowing feelings. I would cry at school because I wanted my brother to come home. Even Santa visited him, but not even Santa could cheer me up. After 11 months, he finally got to come home. His skin was still yellow, and things were different than I was use to, but we adjusted. We began our journey of childhood together. Playing with toys and imaginary games, fighting, and snuggles when I would have nightmares. Things began to change, a new normal. And I was okay with that, because he was okay. But then... six years later... my mom got pregnant again. For months and months I prayed that the baby would be healthy. I didn’t care what gender, just to be like me. But shortly after, my mom got tested, and the baby had CF, in which I called 65 Roses. Maggie, was born, and since the doctors knew what to expect this time, she had a better journey than Jack. Jack had roughly 8 surgeries, where Maggie only had 2. She didn’t have Liver Disease, but she did have Cystic Fibrosis. Maggie was in the hospital for four months before she finally got to come home. And then again, we began our journey of our new normal. Some years go by, I’ve become depressed, in late middle school, and feel worthless. Losing attention from my parents, an overall normal of stress and medications. Vest treatments to help their lungs and countless pills and pumps. It put a big tear on our overall relationship as a family. Things are becoming okay again. But then... my mom begins to feel sick. Numbness in her legs, dizziness, vision loss, and forgetfulness. She always pushed it away. Doctors told her she was just tired and overworked, family members told her it was impossible to be sick, because Jack and Maggie were already sick. And Dad had Diabetes. But after about six months, it peaked at its worst. And Mom was diagnosed with ‘Multiple Sclerosis’. A disease that causes your body to attack your nervous system and immune system. She became very ill. But after many visits to doctors and hospitals, she found her new normal. Everyone was sick. Everyone had medication and needles and stress. And I? I just felt alone. In my early years of high school I became very depressed. Distance myself from my family, skipped school and even abused drugs. I felt worthless, useless. I got to sit alone, healthy, while everyone else was sick. And I could do... nothing. For years and years growing up, all I wanted to do was help. Make things better. But things just got worse. I thought my family was cursed. I considered self harm and suicide many times. Knowing that my healthy body was a burden and a rub in the face to what my family couldn’t have. I vowed to never had kids, if it meant my own family would be like this. And I always wished everyday, that I could take all of their illnesses, to make them healthy. Even, if it killed me. My senior year of highschool, I began to think about college, I had found a man who stuck by my side since my freshman year. He understood my family and found ways to create bonds with each member individually. He helped with medications, asked questions for education, and always was a string to hold up my kite. But then... in the middle of my senior year... my brother became very sick. Sicker than normal. Thirsty all the time, using that bathroom every three minutes, and weakness. My mom suspected it was CFRD. Cystic Fibrosis Related Diabetes. So she called the clinic, informing her concern. Before I could catch up with the information, Jack was rushed to the hospital. His blood sugar spiking to roughly 800. Your normal blood sugar should be in the 120’s-150’s. He came home the next day, with more needles to inject, more bills to pay, and more stress. My brother, now in his preteen years, began to feel hopeless. Picked on at school, always needing medication to survive, injecting needles into him 15 times a day. People with regular Type One diabetes, have to handle strict diets, frequent blood sugar and ketone checks, insulin pens, and wild blood sugars. But for my brother? His Cystic Fibrosis made it worse. Allow me to explain. Jacks Cystic Fibrosis effects him everywhere. One of the many effects, he can never gain weight. A CF patients BMI should always be in the 50th percentile. But jack had never peaked over 20. He was in the hospital for far to long, causing his basic daily human functions to be delayed. Such as speaking, eating and walking. He didn’t learn to properly eat Whole Foods until he was around 8 years old. And even now, his appetite is very strict, due to sensitivity. With the Diabetes, his diet is now stricter than thought possible. His problem gaining weight, just got a whole lot bigger. Because of these two combined, his ‘normal’ blood sugar is usually between 300-500. It’s been a struggle trying to get it normal. Everyone in the house trying to stay healthy, but problems always happening. I felt at my all time low, feeling like I was in the biggest black hole possible. I felt alone, cold. With my two siblings life expectancy currently being 36, and my moms worsening illness, and my dads diabetes catching up with his weak body... I was convinced that I was going to outlive my whole family. And I hated myself. I avoided growing close to them, I avoided to let my emotions show. I hated everyone. I hated the people who cried for me, who gave me dirty looks when they see my home life, who bullied my brother and told him he was better off dead than with all these illnesses, the people who told me how strong I am to live like this. But really.... I was so weak. The only thing I wanted to do... was physically and emotionally impossible. I knew that. But I still wished everyday that I could take it all from them, and let them live. I would rather have all their illnesses and die, than watch them fall weaker, and not be able to do anything about it. All I could do, was watch. I began to contemplate suicide again, or drugs, maybe drinking. I thought about running away from my family. And when I tried to share my feelings, I was shut down. Told I was ungrateful for being sad since I was the only healthy one. I cried myself to sleep, hearing my brother cry and shout that he wished he was dead, that he wished CF and CFRD and Liver disease didn’t exist. My mom, putting on a brave face and caring for her sick children, and never allowing herself to take care of... herself. My dad, rejecting treatment for himself so that he could afford treatment for his kids. It was heartbreaking. And I could do nothing. But then... one day, a family friend reached out to me, and asked if I wanted to join in the MS walk, the disease my mother has. I decided that maybe I should try it. And it was the best decision I ever made. I began going to CF walks and Diabetes walks. I held fundraisers for each illness and participated in groups online. I began to find myself, find the reason why I’m in this family. I began to share my voice, share not my story, but my family’s. While I witnessed the tragic events, I never did anything. I just cried, tried to help feed them or give medications or educationally include myself. But I never realized how much I could do. I began raising a bunch of money, meeting other children who have illnesses. And I began letting my family in. Today, I’ve raised over $200,000 in each illness fundraiser. And I continue to, for cancer, ALS, Down Syndrome, Autism, and many more illnesses that so many of us are suffering from. And even though every illness in my family has no cure, and that my brother and sister will need liver and lung transplants, and their tragic life expectancies are too short, I am determined everyday to help find a cure, enjoy my time with my family, and do good things. Because your loved ones won’t be around forever. And even though they aren’t perfect, they’re stronger than I am, and they know how to fight. And it’s a battle we won’t lose if we fight with love.TL;DR I have 2 siblings who both have Cystic Fibrosis and my mom has Multiple Sclerosis while my dad has Diabetes, due to that I became suicidal and started doing drugs. via /r/tifu https://ift.tt/2HieWJ2