“Love you too, P.”
I stepped out the car and dragged my feet up the walkway. The porch light was off, like always. When I got inside, everything was quiet.
I tossed my keys on the table and walked straight to Zurie’s room. The second I opened the door, my heart dropped.
She was shaking.
Her tiny body was sprawled across the mattress, her eyes rolled back, her mouth frothing, and her limbs jerking uncontrollably.
“Zurie?!”
I dropped to my knees, reaching for her. “Baby, no—no, no, no, hold on—I’m right here!”
My hands were trembling as I fumbled for my phone and hit 9-1-1, shouting the address while trying to keep my sister’s head still and her airway clear.
“She’s having a seizure! She has Chiari Malformation! Please! Send someone now, please!”
I sprinted down the hallway, burst into Mama’s room, and found her knocked out cold, her mouth slightly open, and empty pill bottles on the nightstand.
“Mama!” I shook her, but she didn’t budge. She was breathing, but gone off something heavy. I cursed under my breath, fighting the rage that bubbled up inside me.
How could she not hear? How could she not wake up? How could she not be here when Zurie needed her?
But I didn’t have time to figure all of that out at the moment.
I ran back to my sister’s side, tears pouring down my face. Her body was still convulsing, and her breathing had turned shallow.
“Stay with me, Zurie,” I cried, my voice breaking. “Please, baby, please hold on.”
And I held her, begging the universe not to take the only thing I had left.
St. Mercy General Hospital
While standing outside Zurie’s room, I paced back and forth, waiting for the doctor to come back and tell me something—anything—I could hold on to. My nerves were shot. My hands wouldn’t stay still, and the only reason I hadn’t broken down yetwas because I didn’t have time to. I couldn’t afford to fall apart, not when Zurie was behind that door, hooked up to machines and wires like she was some test subject instead of a six-year-old little girl.
They had already run a bunch of tests. An MRI to check the swelling around her brainstem, and A CT scan to see if there was any bleeding or abnormal pressure. They’d done an EEG, sticking all these little wires to her scalp to monitor her brain activity. They ran bloodwork, checked her oxygen, checked her heart, and now they were talking about transferring her to the neurology wing for overnight observation. It was all happening so fast, and no matter how many doctors or nurses walked past me, I still felt like nobody was seeing me. I was just a girl in the hallway with too many questions and not enough answers.
Finally, a woman in navy blue scrubs stepped approached me, followed by a tall man in a white coat. He had a tired face, kind eyes, and a clipboard in his hand.
“Pluto Monroe?” he asked.
I nodded and straightened up.
“I’m Dr. Harwood. I’ve been reviewing your sister’s tests and scans, and I wanted to update you on what we’re seeing.”
I followed him to a small consult room nearby. I sat down across from him, and he took a deep breath before speaking.
“Zurie has a Chiari malformation. I know you’ve probably heard that term before, but based on the new imaging, it’s clear that her condition is progressing. The lower part of her brain, the cerebellar tonsils, are pressing further down into her spinal canal. That pressure is causing the seizures. It’s affecting her balance, coordination, and motor control.”
I leaned forward, gripping my hands together in my lap. “I know that already, but what does that mean for her right now?”
“It means she needs surgery. Specifically, a posterior fossa decompression. It’s a common procedure for Chiari patients, butit’s also delicate. We remove a small portion of bone at the base of the skull to create space and relieve that pressure on the brain and spinal cord. The goal is to reduce the symptoms and prevent permanent nerve damage. Without it, the swelling will continue. The seizures will get worse, and eventually, she could lose the ability to walk, talk, or even breathe properly in her sleep.”
My stomach felt like it flipped upside down. I blinked hard, trying to keep my composure.
“How soon does she need the surgery?”
“We recommend within the next four to six weeks. She’ll also need follow-up care, physical therapy, and monitoring after the operation.”
