Hypokalemic Paralysis: A Short Story

It was a cheery Wednesday morning I was skipping alongside my mother, excitedly chattering away about my new friends and the things I was learning, when suddenly my mother started to slow down. She stopped and grabbed her head and then crumpled to the sidewalk. Confused, I assumed she was joking so I nudged her asking her to get up. She remained unresponsive and panic began to set in. I sat down next to her, and my friend Beatrice’s parents came rushing over. Her dad kneeled next to my mom and dialed 911, and her mom assured me everything was going to be okay and walked Beatrice and I into the school. The ambulance arrived and my Mom woke up, and my family was launched into four years of searching for a diagnosis. After years of testing she eventually received a diagnosis of Hypokalemic periodic paralysis, an extremely rare
For years I continued to be bratty and petulant towards her never thanking her whenever Elizabeth showed up to an event to support me because I wanted it to be my mother instead. I would become enraged at the littlest things, such as her calling my cat “Gordo”, “HE IS NOT FAT”, or her being late to pick me up. Fortunately as I grew older, I matured and realized that my treatment of Elizabeth was entirely unfair. She was going above and beyond to make sure I felt loved and cared for, and for that I am extremely grateful. Now that I have become more independant and my mom has been able to learn more about her disorder we no longer need Elizabeth to care for us, but I am able to look back and realize how privileged I was to have such a kind individual care for myself. Elizabeth continued to stay close to my family, caring for my grandmother until she