What do you want?

my mom asked me as she pulled around the concrete parking lot

and into the Wendys drive-thru. I scanned the large menu, although I already knew what I
wanted.
Chicken nuggets, I said.
What do you want to drink? she asked.
Coke, I said, as usual. Then, my mom and I both looked at the speaker as a womans
voice blared loudly over it.
Hello and welcome to Wendys! May I take your order? the woman asked happily.
Hi, my mom started. She leaned out of the window and squinted as she scanned the
menu. Uhh, she said, rubbing her face. Id like a son of the baconator meal and a 10 piece
chicken nugget meal, both with a coke light ice.
Will that be all for you today? the womans sweet voice flowed over the speaker.
Do you want a frosty? my mom quietly asked, looking back over to me.
No, I said.
Id also like to add a frosty to that, my mom said.
Okay, the woman said. Your total is $18.73. Please pull up to the window.
My mom pulled up to the sliding glass drive-thru window and put the car in park. She gave the
woman a crisp $20 bill. The woman passed my mom the large white and red paper bag. After
taking the warm bag from my mom, I sat it down on my lap and patiently waited for my drink.
Seconds later, my mom passed me my drink and I sat it down in one of the black cupholders in
between us. I reached into the bag and grabbed a straw. Sliding the paper down, I poked the
straw into the cap of my drink. I balled up the paper and put it in the bottom of the bag.
Would you like any dipping sauce? the woman asked, adjusting her black Wendys
baseball cap. My mom looked over to me.
Honey mustard, I said. The woman passed my mom two small packets of honey
mustard, then popped open the cash register. She gathered my moms change and snatched
the receipt out of the register. I took the honey mustard from my mom, and my mom took the
receipt and her change from the Wendys employee.
$1.27 is your change. the woman said, smiling. Have a nice day!
Thank you, my mom said, taking the car out of park. She drove out of the parking lot
and headed home.
I got out of the car and grabbed the Wendys bag along with my drink and walked
towards our apartment. I waited for my mom as I stood on the light gray concrete steps. Come
on, I said, watching my mom as she slowly walked towards me on the cracked pavement.
When she got close to the stairs, she took her keys out of her pocket; finally making it up the
steps, she used her key to open the big brown outside door. I followed her into the dimly lit
hallway as she found the other key to open our apartment door. She twisted the key in both
locks, then I pushed open the heavy wooden door. As I walked in, I heard our alarm blurt out a
ding, ding, ding! I walked over to the counter and sat down the red and white Wendys bag. I
started walking to my room to go sit my things down as I was hit with a sudden abdominal pain.
But, that didnt break my stride. Maybe I ate too much, I thought to myself, placing a hand on my
stomach. Itll go away. I thought wrong. The days end definitely didnt bring an end to the pain.

I woke up at 9 a.m. Sunday morning, feeling as if nothing had changed. I sat up in my

big plush bed, but that didnt help. I was still suffering from mild abdominal pain, therefore, I
decided to lay back down. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I drifted off to sleep. A couple
hours later, I woke up again, this time to my moms voice.
Bria, she said. Wake up. Bria!
I rolled over and sprung up as she walked toward my closet light. Leaning over the side
of my bed, I reached out a pleading hand.
NO! Im up! I yelled. I hated the light - especially in the morning. She turned and walked
out of my room. I sat back up and started rubbing my stomach, trying to relieve myself of the
pain I was in. But, that still didnt help. It seemed as if nothing was helping - it was only getting
worse.
Dropping my tired hand from my stomach, I walked into the kitchen.
What are we having for dinner? I asked my mom.
Mostaccioli, she said as she covered a medium sized glass dish, full of meat, cheese,
and sauce, in aluminum foil. She opened up the oven and put the glass dish inside of it. I
rubbed my stomach once again, but it still didnt relieve the pain. I had no idea how I would be
able to eat anything else. It felt like none of the food I ate the day before had digested - it was
just sitting in my stomach. But, I thought, maybe my stomach will feel better soon. That wasnt
the case.
I scraped the last bit of mostaccioli off of my plate and reluctantly ate it. Then, I got up
from the big marble dining room table and made my way towards the kitchen. I dropped my
plate in the sink and ran some warm dish water, then I sat in a kitchen chair, staring at the
dishes in the sink. I wrapped both of my arms around my stomach as I leaned over. My head
upside down, I could see the loose screws underneath the chair. All eating the mostaccioli did
was make my stomach worse. I felt like I had a weeks worth of food just sitting in my stomach. I
sat back in the chair and repeatedly pressed down on my stomach. Every time I did, I heard a
gushing noise, like there was a gallon of some type of liquid inside of it. I tried repeatedly - and
unsuccessfully - to burp, until I finally gave up. Finding a small hint of motivation, I got up and
speedily washed the dishes, then I went back to my room. I put on my pajamas and laid down
on my bed. I crawled into a ball and watched TV until I fell asleep, which didnt take long.
Hopefully, when I wake up tomorrow, my stomach will feel better, I thought. But, I wasnt
expecting what happened next.
At 2 a.m. Monday morning, I was woken up by sharp stabbing pains in the lower left side
of my abdomen. I pulled my legs up to my chest and turned over to try to go back to sleep. For a
brief moment, I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep. But, I soon woke up and I realized that I
wouldnt be able to go back to sleep again. For 30 minutes, I tossed and turned, sat up and laid
back down, all in an effort to make this pain subside. Then, I finally got up and walked to my
mom and dads room. I walked over to my moms side of the bed and sat down as I shook her to
wake her up.
My stomach hurts, I said.
Try to go back to sleep, she said.

I did, I said. I leaned back and rubbed my stomach. I cant even lay down.
She put a hand out and rubbed my stomach for a while until I finally came to a
conclusion.
I think I need to go to the hospital, I said.
It hurts that bad? she asked.
Yes, I said. Its been hurting since Saturday,
Go to the front room. Ill be there in a minute, she said.
I went to the living room and sat down on our lifeless suede couch. I leaned back into the brown
couch, feeling restless. I leaned forward as the pain brought back the nauseous feeling Id first
had on Saturday, two days ago.
My mom walked into the room, and soon, my dad followed.
Whats going on? he asked. I looked back and forth from him to my mom as my mom
explained to him what was going on. Then, all of a sudden, I lurched forward and vomited all
over the brown living room carpet. I leaned back to catch my breath. The nasty taste of vomit
marinated in my mouth as spit rested on my bottom lip. I backed into the couch as the smell of
the vomit hit my nostrils. My mom left for a brief moment, then she returned with a paper towel
and a bucket. After she handed me the bucket and the paper towel, I wiped my mouth and
stared into the bucket. My dad went into the hallway of our apartment and opened the closet
door. He pulled out our deep carpet cleaning vacuum to clean up the vomit, then he came back
to the front room. He walked into the kitchen and got a glass of soapy water, then he poured it
over the vomit. He turned on the deep cleaning vacuum and ran back and forth over the vomit.
He repeated this multiple times until he completely cleaned up all the vomit.
Do you think she needs to go to the hospital? my dad asked. I sighed. I didnt want to
miss school, but it was no longer my decision. Sometimes, throwing up makes you feel better it clears everything out, my dad said. Do you feel better?
Not really, I said, sighing. The nausea might have been slightly relieved, but the pain
was still there. So, my mom went into my room and grabbed some clothes for me to put on. My
dad went back to his room and got dressed as my mom helped me change. I pulled off my
fuschia leopard print pajama pants and exchanged them for a pair of dark blue faded skinny
jeans. I kept on the gray Notre Dame college shirt Id gotten for college day during Spirit Week
at my school. My dad started my moms car and walked outside to get in. I got up to walk, but I
had lost the ability to stand straight up. I was now crouching, clutching my stomach while I
slowly made my way out of the door. My mom put a hand on my back to assist me. There was
no way Id be able to make it to school that day.
Me and my mom got in the back seat, and I crouched in a ball while I laid in her lap. We
sat like this until we finally made it to Gottlieb Memorial Hospital, which was not far from us, in
Melrose Park.
I pulled my legs up, then put them back down. I crouched back into a ball as I tossed
and turned in the hospital bed. Then, finally, a nurse walked in.
Hello, she said, handing me a cup. Would you mind peeing in this for your urine
sample? she asked, although it really wasnt a question. She briskly walked out of the door as I
swung my legs off of the bed. I put my feet in my shoes and slowly made my way to the
bathroom. Five minutes later, I made my way back to the room, handing the pee sample to the

nurse on my way. I laid back down on the bed with my knees up. Not five minutes later, the
nurse walked back into the room.
I need you to take this tylenol for your fever, she said, handing me another cup. I took
the cup and quickly drank the flavored syrup. I handed the cup back to her, and she threw it in
the garbage can. Then, she reached for my hand to draw a blood sample. I gave her my hand.
She pricked my hand, then exchanged that needle for the needle to the morphine machine. I felt
a sharp pinch as the new needle pierced another spot in my skin. She put a large patch of tape
over the spot where she had poked me. I felt the cool morphine slowly creeping into my system.
Soon, my pain was gone and I drifted off to sleep. A couple hours later, I woke back up to hear
my mom talking to the doctor.
We think the pediatricians at Loyola will be better equipped to handle Bria, Id heard
her say. Soon after, a paramedic walked in and wheeled me out of the hospital, and into an
ambulance. My mom got in and the ambulance driver drove us to Loyola. After we made it
there, I was transferred from the original hospital bed to a wheelchair, then to another hospital
bed in the kids section of Loyola. I remembered passing through a room with bright paintings,
and seeing something about Ronald McDonald being associated with the kids side of Loyola.
The kids section is really, really kiddie, I thought.
For four days, tests were run to see what was causing my symptoms (fever, abdominal
pain, and high liver enzymes). The doctors believed it to be some form of Hepatitis, but test
results said otherwise. I was hooked up to a machine that gave me morphine until eventually,
they cut me off to see if my symptoms were actually getting better. I threw up about 3 more
times and a slight pain came back, but eventually all of the symptoms disappeared. On
Thursday, they finally released me, and I spent Friday at home. To this day, neither me, nor my
doctors, or my parents know what caused that nearly week-long hospital visit. The doctors said
it mightve been some unnamed form of Hepatitis (Not A, B or C), and its likely to have been
caused by something I ate; it may have been because someone who was handling the food at
Wendys used the bathroom without washing their hands. But, Ill never know for sure.
The following Monday after my hospital visit, I thought about the past weeks events as I
was on my way to school. Ill never eat chicken nuggets again, I thought to myself. I chuckled.
Who am I kidding? I love chicken nuggets.