“Rogan’s Shoes?” I said in shock. I was driving to my parents house in Wauwatosa from Flagstaff, Arizona with my family. I have three girls. My oldest girls are Beverly and Trinity. They are both two years old. I also have a two month old, Liberty. I have been married for two years to my husband, Hudson. I am an occupational therapist, but have taken off for a few months to take care of my girls. “What is Rogan’s Shoes?” asked Hudson. “It’s a shoe store that has been around for ages.” I still couldn’t believe it. Rogan’s Shoes? I remember when… *** I went to Rogan’s Shoes, a shoe store just outside of Waukesha with my mom and two sisters, Macy and Olivia. Ten years ago, I was only seven years old and boy was I a huge complainer. So when …show more content…
Even though I knew that my mom understood that I was in pain, that didn’t stop me from complaining. Once my mom pulled into the parking lot of the emergency room, she faced the next challenge. Getting me out of the booster seat. I know that my mom loves me and was not trying to put me in pain, but boy did that hurt! I cried and cried as she took me into the emergency room. When we got there, it went downhill fast. It turns out that I had a problem with my hip. A hip problem that was either caused by a prior strep throat infection, which could destroy my hip joint in less than twenty-four hours. If it were that, it would require surgery. Or, it was a joint inflammation that was common in young girls. This would go away on its own with ibuprofen and some rest. There was no telling which one it was. It was a huge gamble, but my parents decided on the …show more content…
However, there was one instance that will forever remain in the back of my mind. The PICC line that hurt more than anything. A PICC line is a tube that goes into a vein that can test blood and deliver medication do different parts of a patient’s body. Long story short, I kicked the nurse and the doctor that also happened to be friends of my parents. The experience was horrible because I wasn’t under any anesthesia. I was wide awake and well aware of my surroundings. Throughout all three days, I wasn’t allowed to have any food. The first thing I had to eat after my surgery was ice chips-little pieces of ice. It was better than nothing, but it still wasn’t pizza. I was bombarded with hugs, kisses, candy, cards. You get the picture. Personally, I think that the candy made up for all of the pain. It was three days before I was released from the hospital. Suddenly, I flashed back to