How The Disabled, Enabled Me

A personal narrative from my Sophomore English class about a hero in our life or the hero's journey.

How the Disabled, Enabled Me

            I slumped into the oxygenated, dreary children's hospital on a sticky August day, expecting nothing but sorrow to fill my heart. I was not looking forward to volunteering with sick children, it reminded my too much of my dad. But I was immediately fixed upon the most alluring, beautiful princess my eyes had ever been rewarded with seeing. She went by the name of Joclyn. From the outside we were polar opposites; tall and short, old and young, enabled and disabled. But when we locked each other in an unbreakable gaze, I thought to myself, "This little girl has no idea what joy she has brought me." Princess Joclyn was unable to walk, for the ground was not worthy of her royal feet enclosed in delicate pink shoes. She was unable to speak, for her words were too honest for our cursing, derogatory mouths. She could only see as if she were looking through a piece of Swiss cheese, getting a snapshot of the world through tiny peepholes. But nothing got in the way of my princess Joclyn. She had a smile so refreshing and pure it was like rain after a long drought. Her laugh was so enlightening it brought the dead back to life, and she saved me from my own internal death. I remember thinking, "There is no escaping from this sorrowful, hollow hole I have collapsed into." But Joclyn plucked me out, like the true champion she was. Joclyn was my secret weapon, my savior, and my hero. She cured me from a destiny that will never cloud above me again.

About four years before my unforgettable introduction to Joclyn, I fell into a hole eleven years deep of perfect memories. My dad and I had always been inseparable, he was the best friend god never gave me. He came home one day when I was eleven to what we called, "The Hippie Hut" (the house where just the two of us lived), and showed me computer images emailed to him from the doctor. In the images he showed me a dark blob. Sitting in his big leather office chair with squinted eyes he said, "Okay Ryan, this is my liver. Do you see those white dots?" I nodded and waited for him to continue. "Each of those white dots is a tumor." My eyes quickly darted around the image and I counted nine. My dad sat in silence for three long seconds, cleared his throat and continued, "And this is my heart..." He proceeded to point at another white dot, but it wasn't a dot, it was a stone sized killer. He didn't have to tell me it was another tumor, I knew. So I was left to marinate with the idea that there were ten unforgiving assassinators poisoning my dad with the fear of unknown.

Ever since I had been in the knowledge of an unknown outcome for my dad, I had been caught in a storm of confusion. I didn't know how to act about it. I lacked a brother, sister, or a real family to understand exactly how it felt to have your best friend be ripped away by illness. The storm followed me everywhere, it was invisible to everybody accept me. My own mother had no idea the grief I felt every day from when I was eleven, until I met Joclyn.

My encounter with Joclyn cleared the storm; she was the wind that blew it away. Before I walked into the hospital the day I met her, my hero, I held onto the concept that hospitals were full of death, despair and doubt. The hospital is where my dad went, the hospital is where he wasted money on trial drugs that doctors were convinced would solve the mystery behind his tumors. I had awful expectations walking into those hollow places before I met Joclyn. After that first minute of being introduced, I saw optimism within her. She showed me laughter when I let her know I was there by touching her shoulder. She showed me that although she had it worse than my dad, she was the most peaceful, giggly person I had ever met. When she focused in on me with her Swiss cheese vision, she grabbed for my hand and smiled. After our first chunk of time spent together I went back three days in a row to spend time with my sunshine. 

To this day I spend as much time as I can with my princess. She is the reason I can find peace within myself to discover the positive parts to every situation. Every time I think about what a wonderful girl she is, I smile bigger than an Olympian winning gold. Princess Joclyn is how I get through every speed bump in my life; she is my most admired hero.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

" She showed me laughter when I let her know I was there by touching her shoulder. She showed me that although she had it worse than my dad, she was the most peaceful, giggly person I had ever met. When she focused in on me with her Swiss cheese vision, she grabbed for my hand and smiled."
I enjoyed the story. The lines above were my favorite. I like flow of thoughts leading to the positive ending. Thank you for sharing the excellent story.
Coyote