My Brave Little Sister
Rianna Mackay, Grade 8, Matthew Flinders Girls Secondary College
Excellence Award in the 'Spread The Word 2017' competition
It’s a Saturday night and I’m watching a movie with dad when my little sister comes into the room. Dad pauses the movie and my 7-year-old sister turns the light on, pure pain on her face and obvious tears covering her rosy cheeks. I rush across to her and kneel down.
“What’s the matter?” I whisper softly and in a hoarse voice that isn’t hers she replies:
“My throat REALLY hurts, I can’t breathe properly.” Dad must have heard because he told me to wake mum, I did.
Dad rushes us to the hospital at eleven o clock and I sit in the back with Cecilia crying on my shoulder.
We enter the Intensive care ward and my precious sister looks surprised and confused. I feel instantly worried and sorry for her; the intensive care unit definitely ISN’T for children! The smell of chemical is overpowering and I can’t stand the harsh light reflecting on the glum walls. She gets packed into her own room and they run tests on her. We later find out that she has cancer but not one of the less-aggressive cancers, she has leukaemia…
It’s been a month and Cecilia is still in the hospital, she’s in the children’s ward now but I still visit her every day. Lately I’ve been looking through old photos of her they make me remember the things we used to do and how much we have in common. I made her a friendship bracelet and told her that each string was the threads bonding us together and that we had to let the strings fall off on their own. She still wears hers every day, and so do I.
Our friendship bracelets fell off today, the same day! But the bad news is, she’s back in intensive care – something went wrong overnight. We sat with her all night and day and I didn’t go to school. Cecilia never gives up, she pushes on and does her best no matter how hard it is, how much of a challenge it becomes. She has inspired me to do so many things. She’s shaped me.
I hug and grip Cecilia as tight as I can; we’ve tried Chemotherapy and Radiotherapy and a lot of other things I can’t pronounce. Nothing is working. Every night I hold her hand and every night it gets weaker. I can feel my best friend – my only friend – slipping away from my loving grasp.
Cecilia died today; it’s too hard to talk about. All I can say is she died holding my hand and a place in my heart.
The World’s Greatest Shave is coming up, and I’m doing it for Cecilia, because she gave my life meaning, I’m donating my hair to make a wig for another girl. I know I have to be brave; it never occurred to me how important it was until someone I cared about was taken away from me because of it…