The leaves were changing along with the weather. There is only one thing that meant…school was starting. I was going into my sophomore year of high school; my brother was in seventh grade. From personal experience, seventh grade is the most dreadful grade. It feels like you’re being held captive in the depths of hell. For me, it was a plethora of mean girls, peer pressure, and criticizing everything about my body; but for my brother Zach, it was so much more than that. Zach and I have always been pretty close (as close as a brother and sister can really get at that age), so seeing him go through seventh grade was a struggle for myself knowing what seventh grade holds.
Zach was different from most kids his age. He spent all his free time at home playing video games; he didn’t have very many friends, and was quiet. He was also smart and nerdy, but being different from the other kids never really bothered him. What really bothered Zach was his weight and height. He was about 4’8 and a little chubby, but he was still growing. That didn’t seem to matter to Zach at the time because he got made fun of for it. Once Zach started seventh grade is when everything changed. Our family was divided by fear of what was happening with him. The start of the year was going pretty smoothly, but slowly, three meals turned into one, and five days of school turned into two for Zach.
It started as a stomach ache every other week; soon it was every week. As time went on it became every other day and before long, it was every day, and Zach was missing school. My whole family knew something wasn’t right because Zach was always anxious when he missed school. The psychologist in me came out, trying to protect my little brother. I would bug him endlessly asking him what’s wrong because it didn’t seem like him. “It’s just a stomach ache,” he said.
“Are you sure nothing is happening at school?” I asked.
“No! Can you just leave me alone!” he snapped at me. Zach was always an outcast at school, so seeing him miss so much school was frightening, not only for me, but for my whole family. We would pester him with questions and he would just get angry and storm away because he already told us, “It is just a stomach ache.”
My family and I discussed some theories on what was happening at school because even if it was just a stomach ache, he still wouldn’t have missed that much school. We all came to the conclusion he was being bullied for his weight or for being different from all the other kids. Like many middle schoolers, his body was going through changes. He was a short, chunky kid and it really bothered him. My mom and dad sat him down and asked about the kids at school. “Are they bullying you Zach?” my mom asked, full of worry.
“Yeah kinda,” Zach would say quietly.
“For what?” Mom asked.
“Because I’m fat and short,” he replied.
As Zach’s big sister, hearing that come out of his mouth was the most heartbreaking thing I’ve ever heard, because to me he was perfect just the way he was. He still missed school every day and we didn’t know why because we had addressed the problem of being bullied and how to solve it. Months went by and I could slowly see him losing a scary amount of weight. By that time, he had been to many doctors’ appointments and they all said it was anxiety. Deep down I think the whole family knew it wasn’t “just anxiety.”
Through all of this I became the forgotten child. My parents always made sure to give my brother and me the same amount of attention and love, but it felt different. I was learning to drive and the only time I got to talk to my dad was when I went out driving with him. I could tell he was stressed about Zach, and honestly, I don’t blame him; but for once I wanted to talk about me and not my stupid brother.
Yeah, I was worried about Zach, but why did he start to become the only topic my family ever talked about. I hated him. I wanted the attention he was getting. I wanted to talk about myself for once. But that just wasn’t the case. I learned to be independent and take care of myself because all anyone was worried about was Zach. My parents started forcing Zach to go to school because of the numerous amount of truancy letters he got in the mail. The struggle to get him out the door in the morning was something I’ll never forget. He would scream and cry and refuse to get in the car.
One day my parents got him into the car to go to school and as my dad was pulling out of the driveway, Zach opened the door and jumped out. He got his wish and didn’t go to school, but they had to look into other options of school that he could attend. They tried to send him to Prairie Care, a local facility for help with mental issues, but they told my mom and dad that he wasn’t troubled or mentally ill enough to go there. Life for me started to become consistent. I went to school, went home, ran straight to my room and wouldn’t go upstairs until the next day. I was also crying myself to sleep every night.
It was now summer and Zach seemed better, but not the same kid I used to know. We were closer than ever at this point. He was my best friend and I was his. He looked like a whole new person from the brother I had a few months prior. He had glasses, he was getting a little taller, and the scariest thing of all was that he was stick thin. He started eating again, thankfully, but that doesn’t change the fact that every time he ate he would get a horrible stomachache.
School started again and Zach was now in eighth grade. I was a junior in high school. He actually went to school now, which was a relief for my parents. In March of 2023, I was abruptly woken up at 3:00am. “Lydia, we’re taking Zach to the Emergency Room,” Dad said, bursting into my room.
“Why?” I groaned wanting to go back to bed.
“We’re pretty sure his appendix burst,” replied Dad.
“Is he going to be okay?” I asked, now extremely worried.
“Hopefully,” Dad said. I could hear the stress in his voice.
That morning, I got ready for school all by myself and went to school without a goodbye or an “I love you.” It was weird, but I know my brother needed my parents’ full attention, and I was finally okay with that. My dad texted me in the middle of the day telling me Zach was going into surgery for his burst appendix. Right after school I went to the hospital with my dad to go see Zach. He was post-surgery, lying in a hospital bed, so I went and laid next to him because I was so happy he was okay.
My dad had begun explaining to me that Zach’s appendix hadn’t burst and once they went in to do the surgery, they found out part of his umbilical cord was stuck on his large intestine. I was confused and my dad showed me the pictures they took inside his stomach. It was gross and looked like a dark, yellow cave; however, I was intrigued. I saw a little black thing stuck on his large intestine and I looked away, kinda grossed out. The doctor said this is called Meckel’s Diverticulum and is very rare, affecting about 2% of the population.
“That thing is what caused Zach so much stomach pain all these years!” my dad said pointing at the umbilical cord chunk.
“How did the doctors not see that?” I asked, confused.
“Because you can’t see it on ultrasounds, so it took cutting him open to finally solve the problem,” Dad explained.
It’s been three years since my brother’s stomach issues were figured out and he’s finally the kid I remember as my best friend. He is the best brother I could ask for, even though his problems caused me so much loneliness and despair. I still think about the times when I felt forgotten. I still secretly blame him for all my pain. I know it’s not his fault, but if it weren’t for him, I would’ve never had to go through that. It sounds selfish and I know that, but I just needed my mom and dad at that point in my life and they weren’t there. I love my brother and I always will, no matter what happens. Even if I become forgotten again, he is still my brother and he is my best friend.
Lydia Gansen is a second-year college student at RCTC who is interested in writing. She is currently taking a creative writing class, where she wrote this story.
