Page 31 of Certified Pressure 2
Another nurse came in to draw blood, and I expected tears, but Zurie watched carefully as they tied the band around her arm. “Does the red stuff go in the tube?” she asked curiously.
“That’s right,” the nurse said. “You’re so smart.”
Zurie winced a little when the needle went in, but she didn’t cry. She looked over at me with her bottom lip tucked in, and I mouthed, “Almost done.” She nodded, then grinned when the nurse handed her a sparkly band-aid and a lollipop.
After that, they wheeled in a small machine for an EKG. Zurie laid down on the bed while they placed stickers on her chest and arms. She hummed softly to herself while the machine beeped. The technician smiled. “I don’t get many patients who sing to me while I work. You’re special.”
Zurie grinned proudly. “My sister says I am.”
That moment made my chest tighten. She looked right at me when she said it, and I had to swallow hard to keep the tears from sliding down.
They finished with the MRI. I sat in the room behind the glass, watching her small body on the table while the machine clanged loudly. She stayed still like they asked, and when she came out, she ran straight to me, arms stretched out wide. “Did I do good?”
“You did amazing,” I whispered, hugging her tight. “You were brave the whole time.”
The doctor, Dr. Patel, came by afterward.
He crouched down to Zurie’s level, shook her hand gently, and told her he was excited to see her next week for surgery.
He explained to me again what the plan was, careful to make it sound calm and clear.
“She’s strong, and she’s got a spirit that will carry her through this. You’re both doing a wonderful job.”
Hearing that meant more than I could say. Every day I wondered if I was doing enough, if I was saying the right things and if I was giving her what she needed.
When we were finished, I called an Uber, and we left the hospital. I didn’t want the day to end on a note of tests and needles, so I had the driver take us to the toy store. Zurie’s whole face lit up when we pulled into the parking lot.
Inside, she darted toward the dolls first, pointing out which ones she wanted.
I told her to pick two. She took forever deciding, holding them up and asking which one I liked better, finally hugging both to her chest. Then she spotted a plush unicorn, and I caved instantly because her excitement was too much to resist.
We grabbed coloring books, markers, and a soft blanket with her favorite cartoon characters on it.
I wanted her to have everything that might bring her comfort in the hospital.
Afterward, we went to the clothing store and I picked out pajamas with buttons down the front, socks with grips, and a little robe.
She twirled in front of the mirror in a pink set, giggling.
“These are perfect for the hospital,” I told her. “You’ll be the cutest patient they’ve ever had.”
By the time we got to the register, my arms were full of bags, but I didn’t care. Seeing her excited was worth every dime.
The Uber ride back to the apartment felt heavier.
The closer we got, the more my stomach turned.
Inside, the same dim lights and sagging couch greeted us, and my mother sat in the chair with a blank expression.
She looked at the bags in my hands and then at me, her eyes sharp like she wanted to say something.
I didn’t give her the chance. I walked past her, helped Zurie unpack her new things, and set them neatly in her room.
Every day I felt it more—how if it wasn’t for me, Zurie wouldn’t have made it this far.
My mother had checked out a long time ago, caught up in her own storms. She didn’t see the appointments, the paperwork, the bills or the sleepless nights.
She didn’t see me fighting to keep Zurie’s world from collapsing.
Sometimes I thought about adoption, and making this situation with my sister official, but I knew I wasn’t on my feet enough to do that.
Still, in my heart, I’d already claimed her.
The tension in the apartment was so heavy that I decided not to sit in it.
I told Zurie to grab her unicorn and we went to the park.
The sun was starting to lower, painting the sky orange, and the playground was nearly empty.
Zurie ran to the swings, and I pushed her higher and higher until she squealed with laughter.
After a while, we sat on a bench with her sipping a juice box. I brushed her braids back and asked gently, “Are you ready for your surgery?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Will it hurt?”
I pulled her close. “It might hurt for a little bit, but the doctors are going to take care of you, and I’ll be right there the whole time. When it’s over, you won’t have those headaches anymore. You’ll feel better, I promise.”
She leaned her head on my shoulder. “As long as you’re there, I’m not scared.”
That broke something in me. She was only six, but she trusted me with everything she had. I kissed the top of her head and whispered, “I’ll always be there.”
She hugged me tight, her little arms around my waist, and in that moment all the fear I’d been carrying felt lighter.
I knew the next week would be hard, but I also knew we’d get through it together.
Sitting there with her at the park, hearing her laugh and feeling her arms around me, I had faith that our new journey would be beautiful.