The Cure for Silence.

On Families (part 2): the other daughter. Posted: 20 Jun 2007 06:51 PM CDT What makes a sister special is that sometimes they make you feel whole. My sister and I are nothing alike. She is trendy, I'm classy. She listens to hip hop, I listen to international pop. She's got a closet-full of polka-dot trendy shirts and Bermuda shorts, while I stick to my flowery blouse and a pair of decent jeans. In our hearts, however, we know that one cannot live without the other. Like Cameron Diaz to Toni Collette in the movie "In Her Shoes", I too would be incomplete without her. As much as I hate to admit it, she makes me feel at home anywhere every time I'm with her. Just this past week, with my sister in the hospital, I began to search myself within her with having to carry memories of my own surgery at age five. With an 8.5 inches of incision on my chest, all I needed at that time was someone to stay with me even if I was sedated and unconscious. I had no doubt in my mind that my sister had the same needs. With needles on her arms, wires protruding on her back, and a hideous gown that barely made her fashionable, I could tell that she needed me most. I sensed a sacrifice calling for a sister to give up the comfort of her own bed and onto the ricliner of the hospital rooms. It hit me. And it was something I didn't say no to. These days, she is thankful that all the wires in her body had been removed--the catheter, the I.V. needles, and the surgical drains--and that she is now at home resting in comfort. Little Miss sixteen-years-old was like a laptop on a gurney for four days with all the wires that her spinal-fusion surgery gave. But with all happiness she feels with being discharged from the hospital, the most she's thankful for is having me to stay with her the entire time. To all those who have sisters, be blessed. They make you feel whole.

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