Growing Up With a Deadline
By Maria Edible on Narratively
Published on August 10, 2015
Sammie stares out the window, where the sun is just starting to replace the rain. Around her neck: a raspberry, pig-shaped pillow. She groans faintly as her mother places a tissue between her teeth to prevent a bitten lip, then covers her nose and mouth with a clear mask that has jagged pink projections — dinosaur spikes, simultaneously innocent and stern. Her feet are pointed, toes curled. A symptom of immobility, her mother calls them “ballerina feet.” Sammie’s arms twitch slightly as a small compressor starts up, emitting a sound like a muffled lawnmower.
The dino mask administers Pulmicort, a steroid that helps loosen mucus, which accumulates due to Sammie’s lack of motion. The twice-a-day treatment raises her oxygen levels in order to facilitate breathing and minimize the chance of pneumonia.