This Summer was definitely slow moving. At the beginning, it was merely hot weather, and staying inside. The Coronavirus craze had somewhat run its course in the eyes of most, and people were starting to come to terms with what it means for us as community oriented societies. People turned their eyes to emotional health in a time of stress, and anticipation for the lifting of regulation was brewing. But as it slowly grew more positive, a wave of death and fear swept the country and world. The Delta Variant.

 It was ruthless. It had evolved beyond age, now attacking kids and teens, thereby ignoring the immunohealth of young people. Said sickness was huge on television. I would sit in front of the television and ignore it, thinking I was just like everyone else. I would stay at home and nothing could hurt me. However, this all melted away in an instant a week later, when I was near hyperventilating at a doctors office, having to be put in an ambulance and sent off to the Arkansas Children’s Hospital. This is when my hope and emotional fortitude quickly melted away in the form of stress, exhaustion, and tears. I sat and waited for every new revelation, struggling at night and having air injected into my airways at all times. There were times where I genuinely thought I might die there. 

Luckily, however, my mom was with me the whole time, and I could tell that she was just as heavily affected by it as I was. I could feel her emotional struggle every time I gave her a weak hug and told her I was afraid. And that is by far the greatest love I will ever have with my mom. If she wasn’t there, it wouldn’t have just been a trip to the hospital. It would have been a trip through hell, even worse than it already was.

Conclusively, that few days in the primary/emergency care ward was one of the most traumatic events that I have ever personally experienced and I think that it will ring with me until the day that I die. My mother’s love got me through that tough time, and I think I stand better for it all today.