Subj: No Subject
Date: Wednesday, June 12, 2002 4:19:25 PM
From:
ÒChildhood MemoriesÓ
By: Jenn (MgEcFishes34@aol.com)
ARCHIVE: Just ask
SUMMARY: This is EllaÕs view of the year that MarkÕs tumor returns set years in the future when she is fifteen.
RATING: PG or PG-13
DISCLAIMER: ER, the characters and plots etc. are property of Warner Brothers Television, and NBC. They are borrowed without permission, but this story is written solely for entertainment purposes and I am not making any money.
KEYWORDS: Ella Greene, MG/EC, and JC/AL
Ê (After the Prologue and until indicated the whole story is a flashback)
Childhood Memories
Prologue
What are my memories and what are stories told to me about events in my young life? Do I really remember visiting Seattle when I was five, or when my brother David was born when I was only seven? Maybe I have just been told certain stories so many times that they become memories in my head. At what point does a child really start to understand their surroundings; and more importantly when they become older what do they truly remember about those diaper days?
If they are someoneÕs stories or truly memories of my own, I guess I will never know the difference. What is meaningful is that I have recollection of these times in my life that I perhaps may not have been able to remember or might just have forgotten about otherwise. If they where significant events or not, I can still tell you about any picture in MomÕs photo album even if I am just repeating another story that she has told a hundred times. This, although it may seem futile to some, is cherished by me and I appreciate the knowledge I have been given about my life and the lives of other through those types of stories. The ER is full of stories about both Mom and Dad, when they were younger; before Dad met Mom, when they were single, dating, and that difficult year after they were engaged. This is the story of my young life and the difficult years that my family experienced.
Looking back there are many things that I wish I could forget but unfortunately they are events that will always be a part of me. I miss my Dad and the year his tumor returned was the worst year of my life. When I was fourteen and David was only seven Mom and Dad sat me down to explain about what was wrong with Dad.
* * *
ÒElla, do you remember when Dad and I told you about the year before you where born?Ó Mom had a strange look on her face and I could tell they had both been crying. I had an idea what they where going to tell me next, but to look on the bright side I said,
ÒYa, about Dad finding the house and proposing, you guys going to New York, MomÕs malpractice case, and your wedding; I remember.Ó
ÒYes, that all happened that year but what we are trying to say is do you remember when we told you about Dad having the tumor?Ó
ÒIn his brain right?Ó
ÒYes, honey in my brain. What Mom is getting at is, well, I went to the doctor the other day and, Ella the tumor is back.Ó Right there I broke down and began to cry, I was a smart kid and I knew what recurring brain tumors meant. At that moment Mom and Dad started to hug me and Mom started to cry along with me. Now it is just me, Mom and David; life will never be the same without Dad. He had been healthy for so long and then out of no where, the tumor was back and within a few months he was to sick to leave the hospital.
* * *
A great fifteenth birthday present. Not only is that only a portion of my life story, it is how I began a school paper that was supposed to be entitled, ÒMy Worst Experience.Ó Forget about experience, how about the worst years of my life. As my essay was handed back to me I began to get nervous. Had I done the right thing writing about DadÕs tumor, and the last months of his life. Now my teacher knew about what my family had gone through, my feelings and emotions. It was a term paper, five pages long, to be counted as a mid-term. It was also my inner most feelings about the worst time in my life and the life of anyone who had know and cared for my Dad.
As I looked down at my paper I saw the red mark that had given me an A+ on my writing. Then underneath it said,
Please see me after class, before you leave. I will write you a pass.
This is no good, I didnÕt want to talk to my English teacher before I left class, I didnÕt want sympathy and I didnÕt want to have to explain anything. Just then, the bell rang. I stood up, grabbing my books I walked over to my teachers desk. I felt like I was going to cry.
ÒExcuse me, you wanted to speak to me before I left. Something about my term paper.Ó
ÒElla, yes, please sit down. I just wanted to know how you were doing, if you needed anything. I had no idea about your father. That was a wonderful piece of work, good writing, powerful emotions. How did you write your story that well?Ó
ÒItÕs not my story, itÕs my life. I lost my father to brain cancer a month ago. There isnÕt anything anyone can say or do. You asked for ÒMy Worst Experience.Ó and I gave it to you. My worst experience is my life. If you donÕt mind I am going to be late for Biology and I really enjoy that class.Ó I was mad at myself for getting so emotional in front of my teacher, but I could only hold in so much.
ÒOK, I will write you a pass. I just wanted you to know that when I read what you wrote, I was moved. I know you also enjoy my class and I think you are a wonderful young woman. If you ever need to talk or anything, I am here. I have seen changes in you Ella and I didnÕt know why. Now that I know, I am willing to help you with anything you need. I am proud of you, not once did you miss a single piece of work, not a paper or a project, nothing. Despite everything you have been through, you kept up, you were strong. You canÕt be perfect forever. Here is your pass, see you tomorrow.Ó
With that I said thank you and headed for biology. I stopped at my locker than ran off to the bathroom. I shut the door to the stall and let myself cry for the next five minutes. I had changed, my teacher was right. My father would have wanted me to be strong, go on, but here I was closing myself off from the things and people I cared about. Right then and there in the chilly bathroom stall of Cook County High I promised myself that I would get on with my life and be stronger. I wonÕt let myself fall apart, I knew I couldnÕt always be perfect, things had changed and would never be the same again.
Date: Wednesday, June 12, 2002 4:19:25 PM
From:
ÒChildhood MemoriesÓ
By: Jenn (MgEcFishes34@aol.com)
ARCHIVE: Just ask
SUMMARY: This is EllaÕs view of the year that MarkÕs tumor returns set years in the future when she is fifteen.
RATING: PG or PG-13
DISCLAIMER: ER, the characters and plots etc. are property of Warner Brothers Television, and NBC. They are borrowed without permission, but this story is written solely for entertainment purposes and I am not making any money.
KEYWORDS: Ella Greene, MG/EC, and JC/AL
Ê (After the Prologue and until indicated the whole story is a flashback)
Childhood Memories
Prologue
What are my memories and what are stories told to me about events in my young life? Do I really remember visiting Seattle when I was five, or when my brother David was born when I was only seven? Maybe I have just been told certain stories so many times that they become memories in my head. At what point does a child really start to understand their surroundings; and more importantly when they become older what do they truly remember about those diaper days?
If they are someoneÕs stories or truly memories of my own, I guess I will never know the difference. What is meaningful is that I have recollection of these times in my life that I perhaps may not have been able to remember or might just have forgotten about otherwise. If they where significant events or not, I can still tell you about any picture in MomÕs photo album even if I am just repeating another story that she has told a hundred times. This, although it may seem futile to some, is cherished by me and I appreciate the knowledge I have been given about my life and the lives of other through those types of stories. The ER is full of stories about both Mom and Dad, when they were younger; before Dad met Mom, when they were single, dating, and that difficult year after they were engaged. This is the story of my young life and the difficult years that my family experienced.
Looking back there are many things that I wish I could forget but unfortunately they are events that will always be a part of me. I miss my Dad and the year his tumor returned was the worst year of my life. When I was fourteen and David was only seven Mom and Dad sat me down to explain about what was wrong with Dad.
* * *
ÒElla, do you remember when Dad and I told you about the year before you where born?Ó Mom had a strange look on her face and I could tell they had both been crying. I had an idea what they where going to tell me next, but to look on the bright side I said,
ÒYa, about Dad finding the house and proposing, you guys going to New York, MomÕs malpractice case, and your wedding; I remember.Ó
ÒYes, that all happened that year but what we are trying to say is do you remember when we told you about Dad having the tumor?Ó
ÒIn his brain right?Ó
ÒYes, honey in my brain. What Mom is getting at is, well, I went to the doctor the other day and, Ella the tumor is back.Ó Right there I broke down and began to cry, I was a smart kid and I knew what recurring brain tumors meant. At that moment Mom and Dad started to hug me and Mom started to cry along with me. Now it is just me, Mom and David; life will never be the same without Dad. He had been healthy for so long and then out of no where, the tumor was back and within a few months he was to sick to leave the hospital.
* * *
A great fifteenth birthday present. Not only is that only a portion of my life story, it is how I began a school paper that was supposed to be entitled, ÒMy Worst Experience.Ó Forget about experience, how about the worst years of my life. As my essay was handed back to me I began to get nervous. Had I done the right thing writing about DadÕs tumor, and the last months of his life. Now my teacher knew about what my family had gone through, my feelings and emotions. It was a term paper, five pages long, to be counted as a mid-term. It was also my inner most feelings about the worst time in my life and the life of anyone who had know and cared for my Dad.
As I looked down at my paper I saw the red mark that had given me an A+ on my writing. Then underneath it said,
Please see me after class, before you leave. I will write you a pass.
This is no good, I didnÕt want to talk to my English teacher before I left class, I didnÕt want sympathy and I didnÕt want to have to explain anything. Just then, the bell rang. I stood up, grabbing my books I walked over to my teachers desk. I felt like I was going to cry.
ÒExcuse me, you wanted to speak to me before I left. Something about my term paper.Ó
ÒElla, yes, please sit down. I just wanted to know how you were doing, if you needed anything. I had no idea about your father. That was a wonderful piece of work, good writing, powerful emotions. How did you write your story that well?Ó
ÒItÕs not my story, itÕs my life. I lost my father to brain cancer a month ago. There isnÕt anything anyone can say or do. You asked for ÒMy Worst Experience.Ó and I gave it to you. My worst experience is my life. If you donÕt mind I am going to be late for Biology and I really enjoy that class.Ó I was mad at myself for getting so emotional in front of my teacher, but I could only hold in so much.
ÒOK, I will write you a pass. I just wanted you to know that when I read what you wrote, I was moved. I know you also enjoy my class and I think you are a wonderful young woman. If you ever need to talk or anything, I am here. I have seen changes in you Ella and I didnÕt know why. Now that I know, I am willing to help you with anything you need. I am proud of you, not once did you miss a single piece of work, not a paper or a project, nothing. Despite everything you have been through, you kept up, you were strong. You canÕt be perfect forever. Here is your pass, see you tomorrow.Ó
With that I said thank you and headed for biology. I stopped at my locker than ran off to the bathroom. I shut the door to the stall and let myself cry for the next five minutes. I had changed, my teacher was right. My father would have wanted me to be strong, go on, but here I was closing myself off from the things and people I cared about. Right then and there in the chilly bathroom stall of Cook County High I promised myself that I would get on with my life and be stronger. I wonÕt let myself fall apart, I knew I couldnÕt always be perfect, things had changed and would never be the same again.