Sean

Early in elementary school, it's hard to say when exactly, a classmate passed away. More so, a friend's little brother passed away. We all watched our friend everyday as he came to school, looking like death, as his little brother kept our friend awake all night long. The little brother was sick and spent most of his time screaming because his head hurt him so badly. Horrid, horrid headaches that left the little boy screaming all night long.

Then, one day our friend didn't come to school. A few days later, he returned. He said that his brother had died. He wept and wept on the bus, saying how the night he had died all that he wanted was for his brother to stop screaming. He only wanted some sleep. And finally, his brother did stop screaming. In the morning, he got off his top bunk, only to find that his brother was blue. His brother stopped screaming because his brother had died. It was a brain aneurysm. My friend cried and cried; we all understood what he was saying--he felt guilty, as though if he hadn't wished for his brother to stop screaming that he wouldn't have died. As kids, there was no way to understand that our will didn't cause things like that. We all still believed in Santa and the Tooth Fairie and the Easter Bunny.

That event still haunts the far reaches of my mind. Despite the medical training I've had, despite now understanding the statistical improbability of an event like that happening to a child, it still scares the shit out of me.

Leah's been having headaches and vomiting. These are probably just a reaction to a sinus infection and her being too young to understand how to deal with vertigo (as I have learned to do over the years because every time I have fluid in my head, this is what I experience).

But I'd be lying if I said some part of me isn't still a scared kid every time this happens.

(On a side note, all three persons that I knew that are buried at OTC are practically neighbors. Efficient visiting, but harrowing. Two of them were children.)