Gina Iggo

It was just like every other Christmas, except that my brother, Ben, had a really bad cough. We spent Christmas at the beach, thinking the fresh air would be good for him. It was. He just didn't get any better. We decided to spend the New Year at home. Ben had been getting sicker and sicker. He was finding it very difficult to breathe. 

Dad took him to the doctor.  Blood Cancer. Being right on the new year, people were on holiday and no ambulances could be spared to take Ben to Starship. He couldn't fly because he needed an oxygen mask to breathe. That night was life or death. He lived. He was taken to Starship in an ambulance. Dad went with him. Mom drove me to Auckland along with my Aunt and Uncle. My little sister (5) had the chickenpox, so she wasn't allowed to come. I wasn't allowed to see him though because I'd been in contact with Katie.

There was nowhere for me to stay in Auckland, so I went home with Uncle Jack. I never knew what was happening; I didn't really know what was actually wrong either. I didn't understand what they meant when they said leukemia or cancer. Or when they talked about lumber-punctures either. None of it made sense. It still doesn't.

When Mom came home without Dad and without Ben, I thought nothing of it. It was when I saw Mom crying that I knew something was really wrong.  When Ben finally came home, he had no hair, and he'd gained a bit of weight. He was really pale, and he actually looked sick.
I remember being shocked at the contrast, this was a stranger, not my brother. My brother was healthy and sporty, skinny and glowing. And smiling. He wasn't pale and sick. But he was. And it was strange.

Ben was getting better though. We decided to take a family fishing trip, because Ben loves fishing. It turned into a disaster. One minute he was fine, the next his nose was pouring blood. Endless blood. We went back to land, Mom took Ben to the hospital. He went to Starship. What I saw when I got there was the pale stranger, looking sicker than the last time I'd seen him. But they had stopped the blood.

Being nine, I saw the cork and thought they'd just put it up his nose to clog the hole so no blood could get out. I know now that wasn't all there was to it, but I don't understand the rest. Ben got better after that. His hair grew back, and his colour began to come back. I started to recognize my brother.

Ben spent his 13th birthday in hospital, his best friend came from school with Mrs Tane, the teacher that Ben would've had if he'd been allowed to attend Intermediate. I remember being jealous because Ben got a PS1 for that birthday.

I think the scariest bit for me was not knowing. Not knowing whether it was the last time I would see my brother alive, if next time he'd be worse. And not knowing what was happening.  The one thing I do know, is that I'm thankful that Ben survived.