Glass on the Window Frame (eBook)

Christine Eros (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
372 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3509-6429-5 (ISBN)

Infos

Marcela is a spirited little girl, overflowing with imagination and innovative thoughts. Rural Mexico is both idyllic and full of wonder. Unexpectantly, she is snatched from her sanctuary and brought to San Diego, California in the early 1970s. There she learns to deal with her asthma, friends and an extremely different culture. Guided by her parents and her faith, she navigates her new surroundings with her two little brothers as best as she can, and learns about love, faith, tenacity and hope.

Christine Eros, M.D., M.P.H. is a Family Physician, author and entrepreneur based in San Diego, Ca. She is a co-owner of Metro Family Physicians where she offers compassionate primary care. Dr. Eros earned her medical degree from UCSD School of Medicine and completed her residency at Sharp Grossmont Family Medicine Residency Program. She holds a Masters in Public Health from San Diego Sate University. Alongside her medical practice, she is a proud owner of Eros Beauty And Wellness focusing on aesthetic and wellness medicine. Dr. Eros treasures her time with her three children and values her relationship with her patients.

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Just as she is feeling more adjusted, she is diagnosed with a life-threatening illness that devastates her family. Children with similar diagnoses rarely survived, and those who did were severely disabled. The family and community come together to pray and hope for the best. It is Holy Week, the most solemn week in the Catholic Church, and the family prays for the miracle of life. Her story highlights the differences between rural Mexico and San Diego, both in culture and in the medical establishment of the time. She acknowledges extremely important physicians in San Diego county, such as Dr. Eli Meltzer, Dr. James Kemp, and Dr. Bradley Peterson; all who have contributed tremendously to today medical practice. It is her faith and that of her family's that keeps everyone going during their toughest times. Marcela opens up about Catholicism, mysticism and belief in one God. She emphasizes that, as a community, people can overcome tragedy and hardship by working together.

Textauszug

Chapter 1

San Diego 1980

“Affliction is often that thing which prepares an ordinary person for some sort of an extraordinary destiny.” -C.S. Lewis

I could not withstand more of the kaleidoscope of sound and light that overwhelmed my very essence. This was it! This was the existence of other dimensions I had contemplated for so long. Blue hues and red bursts ignited as molecules collided with each other. It was exhausting observing electrons clash and ignite with each movement of my body against the sheets that draped me. Explosions and new realities became clearer as the hours of the darkness ticked by. All this thrashing about had wadded my night gown under my left arm and my right arm remained trapped in the cloth. My arm was where my head should have been. This had unfolded for what seemed to be an endless amount of time. It began with chills, bone chilling cold that, regardless of the number of blankets piled high, made no difference. Then it was heat! I couldn’t kick the covers off fast enough before my skin felt like it was being singed. Soon the sun would rise over the horizon, casting an orange hue on anything it touched, announcing a new day, one that would prove to be beyond challenging. It was fitting that it was the beginning of Holy Week, the most solemn time in the Catholic Church.

The soft embracing covers now were like wrinkled burlap scraping against my skin. I longed for my favorite childhood blanket that I had left behind in Jerez. The silkiness of its satin borders soothed my fears and swept away the scary dreams. I stared at these sheets, analyzing the dichotomous texture, coarse and soft at once. Focusing on the weave, the tightly woven cloth separated into individual strands where I could slip through like a wave of light. We and everything on Earth, derived from energy, or so I have been told. As I peered at the fibers of the sheets, I could see oscillating particles in each fiber as positive and negative charges repelled each other. As I rustled the covers, their oscillations went from slow rhythmic phases to a chaotic, almost symphonic crescendo. I smiled, kicking the covers off and bringing them back up. ‘Watch. Slow vibration and now fast!’ I told myself, watching the electrons and protons clash against each other with each of my movements.

Then my physical self began fighting me. It was tensing and twisting, unable to relax. An unnerving restlessness filled me from head to toe. There was no escaping the discomfort that bordered on pain. I resigned myself to the knowledge that relief to this madness was out of reach. I needed to leave and I knew just how to do it; concentrate and float. I hovered over my body, watching the tortured body of a girl, a girl who was no longer me.

Gliding off the bed, I floated to the doorway. There, I stopped to look back. That poor child was not well, I thought, as I separated myself from the suffering. Something bad was happening, and I didn’t want to stick around to find out what it was. I placed my hands on the threshold, supporting myself as I took one last look at the body on the bed. She was no longer me. With that, I turned and walked away.

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Bea was unable to comprehend the unfolding events. Marcela had been sick throughout the night with fever and restlessness. Bea thought her granddaughter had already passed the worst of it, along with her two brothers. The three children had been convalescing at home from chicken pox, and in the last few days, the fevers had abated and their energy had improved. It had been a tough couple of weeks when Daniel, the seven years old, came home with horrible blisters that never stopped itching. The plaguing, pruritic rash sprouted new lesions anywhere and everywhere on the body. The kids kept finding new ones every day, behind the ears, on the scalp and even on the bottom of the feet. Instead of defervescing, Marcela’s fever spiked again. Bea continued to lower her temperature with those tasty St. Joseph’s aspirins and water. Now, as dawn broke, and the boys began waking up, Marcela’s agitation worsened.

Daniel, noticing that something was not right, approached Marcela’s bed offering her a stuffed animal. “Get out!” she screamed. “Don’t touch me!”

Daniel stared at Bea with huge brown eyes wide with fear. He had never seen his sister this way, as if she was possessed. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he dropped the stuffed animal and turned to Bea in search of answers.

“¿Abue, porque Marci no me quiere?” He asked tearfully, wondering why Marci didn’t like him.

Everyone at home called her Marci. To be called Marcela meant she was in trouble.

“Mijito, déjala sola. I am going to call your mammi.” This was definitely not the granddaughter she knew. Something was amiss.

Tucking her soft curly dark hair neatly in a comb, Bea rushed to the phone and called Euni, who had already been at work for an hour in the early morning.

“Hija, Marci is getting worse. Come home,” she pleaded with urgency.

Marcela was growing more combative and agitated. And as they waited, the boys looked on with confusion and fear. No one could get near the girl, sitting on her bed atop a pile of disheveled covers.

Marci, seeking attention, similarly pushed whoever came near her away. She fidgeted with the covers as if the fibers held some magical power.

Although she was a chatterbox at home, she was never disruptive. She had dark brown shoulder length hair, brown eyes and fair complexion. Marcela, at eleven years old, the big sister of the three, often got lost in her thoughts, inventing new games or making up songs and dances. When the boys were younger, they followed her everywhere. Now, the boys had their own friends at eight and seven years old, but she still thought she was the boss.

Before long, Euni arrived and hurried to Marcela’s bedroom that she shared with her grandmother. A while back, Euni had bought Marcela a perfect white dresser with a mirror bordered with a gold accent. Marcela loved her dresser. She felt fancy to have such a pretty dresser, like the rich girls who had more than one servant back home. It was all hers, and she livened it up by decorating it with Hello Kitty stickers. Now the happy, bright yellow bedroom felt dark and cold as Euni approached the bed, and in her sweet, loving voice spoke to Marcela, coaxing her out of bed. Marcela fought back. She didn’t seem to recognize Euni and stared at her mother with fear in her eyes. Marcela kicked and scratched.

“We need to get her to the hospital now! Boys, put on your sweaters!” She screamed. Without understanding the reason for her daughter’s delirium, she knew she needed to act urgently. There was no time to waste.

Tito called out. “I can’t find my shoe.” At seven years of age, Tito didn’t grasp the severity of the problem and walked over to Euni with a shoe partially on his foot.

Bea scooped him up and readied him quickly, while Daniel grabbed a sweater and followed close behind.

Euni, with her delicate milky white hands and soft skin, tried with all her strength to pull her out of bed. Between Bea and her, they moved Marcela into the back seat of the car, between the boys. Marcela looked at them with confusion, not knowing who they were. This time the rambunctious boys sat quietly, Tito with his curly, soft brown hair and slightly slanted brown eyes and Daniel with soft light brown curls and almond honey eyes, stared at their sister as if she was possessed.

Euni flew down the street and arrived at the entrance to Mercy Hospital’s emergency room. She rushed inside and immediately asked for help.

“Help me. My daughter is sick.” She said, struggling to formulate a simple sentence.

“Where is she?” The nurse looked above her glasses and passed Euni to the waiting room, searching for signs for Euni’s daughter.

“She is in the car. I need assistance to get her out of the car?”

“What do you think is wrong?”

“She has chicken pox.” Euni was unsure how to explain how her eleven-year-old daughter had gone from a normal Catholic School girl with chicken pox to a raving mad, uncontrollable child.

“Chicken Pox! She can’t come in here with chicken pox. You need to take her home.” The nurse looked at Euni with disdain. She did not tolerate ignorant people.

“You don’t understand,” Euni pleaded with an agony in her voice. “She is not well, and she is fighting me. I can’t take her out of the car. Something is not right with my daughter!” Her voice almost screeched as she begged for help.

Alarmed by Euni’s countenances, the nurse asked an orderly to follow her to the vehicle. “Tim, can you check and see what is happening outside?”

The boys were out of the car and standing as close as they could to Abue. If she moved, they moved, holding on to any article of her clothing they could reach with firm grips and alarm in their eyes.

Mammi ran ahead to the car, bumping into a gentleman along the way. “I beg your pardon.” She muttered, rushing by.

The girl in the car was angry. She seemed to interact with the car as if the car was speaking to her. Marcela spoke to the radio and yelled at the front seat. She thrashed from one end of the back seat to the other as if the car was prickling and biting her. The orderly had seen nothing like this.

“Stop it!” Marcela screamed to the seat beneath her.

The orderly took one look at the girl thrashing violently...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 7.1.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Biografien / Erfahrungsberichte
• Themenwelt: Sachbuch/Ratgeber ► Gesundheit / Leben / Psychologie ► Familie / Erziehung
• ISBN-13: 979-8-3509-6429-5 / 9798350964295