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Christopher Hixon

Marketing Your Writing


1 August 2014
christopherhixon@knights.ucf.edu

Best Gift Original Short Story


Kindergarten memories tend to blur together for me. On one hand I remember
loving school, talking to friends, losing my tooth at naptimebut on the other I dont
really count school as a part of my kindergarten year at all. When youre five-turningsix, your only responsibilities include watching Little Bear on Nick Jr. or driving around
somewhere with your mom. At least this was the case for me. One Saturday afternoon,
we had to go pick up my older brother Shaun (he was in the fifth grade) from Burger
King after a sleepover. I went to a private, Christian school of about 130 students about
thirty minutes from my house. My brother played every sport so hed sleepover at
friends houses sometimes after practice since we lived so far. I ordered a kids meal. The
toy was probably stupid. While I impatiently waited for my mom to stop talking to all the
other moms, I saw a kid from my school in the first grade! I didnt know any first graders
so this was a very big deal. His name is Carter. Our parents made their introductions
(most parents knew everyone elses parents at Weston Christian Academy) but we soon
leave because Shaun has a game later that day. I dont really remember seeing Carter too
much after that.
In the week preceding my birthday, I started coming down with something. The
first night I went to the emergency room, I had very high fever and lots of bruising. They

said it wasnt anything to be concerned about and sent my home with some antibiotics.
This happened two more nights that week, but still every night the same answer.
It was Friday, February 13th and my birthday was a day away. Birthdays were my
favorite days of the year because everyone goes to Chuck E. Cheeses and they have the
best cakes ever! They would give you a crown to wear on your birthday and everyone at
the party would get free tokens and there would even be a show with THE Chuck. E.
Cheese and his friends! I had been waiting for this day since I turned 5. So, my mom
draws a bath with my favorite Mr. Bubbles pink soap but then sits down next to me:
Christopher honey, I know you were really excited about going to Chuck E. Cheeses
for your birthday, but youve been so sick lately and there are just so many other kids
there who can catch whatever you have or make you sicker. Your father and I think its
best that we just stay here tonight. I already invited Claudia and Kimberly over for board
games. Well go to Chuck E. Cheeses when youre all better.
I never did go to Chuck E. Cheeses for a birthday after that day but I didnt seem
to mind too much then. It was more of a disappointment to my two best friends, Claudia
and Kim, who lay crying on the couch because they wanted to go so badly. After a few
Elvis impersonations, I was able to get them in better spirits. We played Operation! and a
ton of other Milton Bradley games that night. After some cake, my friends and their
moms went home and I went to bed.
Not too long into my slumber did I jolt out of my sleep, screaming in pain. My
head felt like there was nine thousand jagged power drills buzzing through my skull. My
body was covered in a pool of cold sweat and bruises. My parents tried to get me to say
what was wrong but I couldnt. Everything seemed wrong. I began to fade in and out of

darkness. I opened my eyes when I was being carried into my moms vanthen all of a
sudden I was in the emergency room and my mom was screaming at the ER staff. I
couldnt stop crying and screaming but this was the worst pain Ive ever felt in my life.
There was a flash and I was in a room completely surrounded by doctors forcing some
orange medicine down my throat, then a pink one. There was an IV in my arm but this
time there wasnt any time to count before they stuck the needle in. Everyone was talking
at once and saying something different. I was shuffled through different rooms in the
hospital but everything faded to blackness. I open my eyes and Im in an ambulance and
Im still crying. I prayed that God would protect me from whatever it was that was trying
to take me. Back to black again.
Happy birthday, Christopher, my mom said gently as I woke up in an
unfamiliar place. There werent any doors like in the hospital I went to before, but instead
sliding glass doors with clowns painted on them. The letters ICU were on everything
but I didnt know what they meant. There were so many balloons and stuffed animals and
cards with my name on them. I still had an IV in my arm and was dressed in a hospital
gown, but I wasnt in pain like I was before. I didnt understand anythingwhy I was
there, how long I would be there, what was wrong with me. But there was peace that
blanketed the room and I had a revelation that everything is not okay, but it will be okay
in time.
I was at Joe DiMaggios Childrens Hospital in Hollywood, Florida. And
although they thought I had Sickle Cell Anemia, I was diagnosed with Acute
Lymphocytic Leukemia (with high risk of relapse) and would require immediate

chemotherapy treatment. All this translated to: I am sick and getting medicine to get
better.
I couldnt tell you that I absorbed all of this right away. Most of what happened
that day I wasnt able to actually understand until years later. The odds that you would be
in a hospital bed next to some person that you already know arent very likely. Ive been
in a hospital bed more than 500 different times throughout my life and Ive only
happened to know the person in the bed next to me once. It occurred the first time I was
ever in the Intensive Care Unit on February 14th, 1998. The person in the bed next to me
was Carter Smith.
Carter Smith was diagnosed with Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia on February 11th,
1998, three days before I was admitted to Joe DiMaggio. He required immediate
chemotherapy, but was at low-risk of relapse. We had the same chemotherapy, but at
different doses. It was the strangest of coincidences, but I have grown to believe that
everything does indeed happen for a reason.
Little by little, I was starting to understand what was happening to me. Id ask so
many questions but I could tell they werent telling me something. Neighbors would
come and be with me a lot of nights. I guess they wanted to give my parents a break. I
didnt like how they looked at me now. Everyones eyes had love in them, but its as if
they were looking through me, trying to imagine a world where I dont make it. I could
handle the looks from people I knew, but not from my parents. I missed them the nights
theyd be home, but at least they didnt have to stare at their youngest son while his life
hangs in the balance.

The Child Life specialist at the hospital brought my mom and me into a room
where I was to watch a video. She said that this would explain what is going on with me.
Its a video called Why, Charlie Brown, Why? Its about Charlie Browns friend who
gets sick and goes to the hospital and gets diagnosed with leukemia and has to have
chemo and she looses her hair and then the chemo makes her better and she can go back
to school so Charlie Brown can push her on the swings again. I guess I was supposed to
be the girl in the video. Tears flowed down my mothers face and I can see the pain
behind her smile when she looked at me but at that moment, I knew that this was serious
and that I wouldnt be in school for a while. Maybe I would never return school.
From that point, I wanted to know everything. My mom and dad had books that
theyd read and study all the time, but I would just ask questions. I asked about every
chemotherapy drug I was given and what it did. By the middle of my treatment, I could
name every drugits color, what it does, the side effects, and what days I was supposed
to get it.
Carter and I would compare our charts when the doctors went out of the room.
We scheduled our chemotherapy treatments and doctors appointments at the same time
so wed be able to hang out together. I was lucky to have a friend like him to get me
through the bad days at the hospital. A few times I actually had to correct the nurse about
what drugs I was supposed to have and had an almost fatal allergic reaction because of a
mistake in dosage.
After many weeks of chemotherapy, the visits to the hospital decreased and I was
starting to get back to normal. When Carter & I were in remission, we stayed good
friends at school, making jokes about the hospital or how we think Burger King gave us

leukemia. Wed have follow-up appointments together, which would check to see how
the blood counts were doing. After every appointment, Id have to call my dad at work to
let him know my counts were good. He loved those phone calls. During one visit, the
doctors were talking to both our moms for longer than usual, but it just gave us more time
to play Sonic in the playroom. They came out a little red-faced, but I thought nothing of
it. We went to Red Lobster afterward and I noticed something was off. We finished our
meals and wanted to get home so I didnt miss the newest Disney Channel Original
Movie.
In the car, my mom told me that she had some bad news. Carter had relapsed and
has to redo chemotherapy and may possibly need a bone marrow transplant. We just
need to pray for him, Chris, she said to me a little shaky. You saw what God did for
you and hes gonna do it for Carter too.
Carter didn't go back to school the next day. He missed field day, which is the
best day of the year. I cried a lot more after that. I stopped being happy that I survived
cancer. It didnt matter anymore because I could just get it back and do it again. I didnt
understand why things happen the way they do. But all I know is that things will continue
to happen and we cant change that. We can only change how we handle them. I couldnt
handle this. But I had to. This was my friend.

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