The Acquisition of a Sister

April 2000: With the Livster

My mom mentioned that my sister is flattered whenever I write a tidbit about her. In her eyes it's a moment of fame (we won't tell her the truth). I don't know if I was supposed to take that as a hint, but assuming I was, this is a story of Olivia.

I always wanted a sister. I had a brother. He was hip. He did neat stuff. But I always wanted a sister. Until I was 12. When I was 12, I determined to be satisfied with a brother and ergo never gave sisterdom another thought. Until I was 14.

When I was 14, I had to get my wisdom teeth removed. If you ever know anything about me, know this: I have a phobia of needles. It has affected my life in countless ways. In this instance, it ended me up with a sister. Well, not exactly, but when I stood up --then fell down-- after the surgery, it seemed like it. Let me explain.

The anesthesia was administered through an IV. Had I known this beforehand, I would have opted to keep my wisdom teeth. Fortunately, for the sake of procuring a sister, I was unaware of any needle involvement and found myself sitting in the oral surgeon's squishy chair receiving the unexpected news that needles were, in fact, involved. At that point I freaked out. To put it lightly. I don't remember if my mom was in the room or if they had to invite her in, but she bent down next to the squishy chair and tried all of the secrets she'd learned over 14 years of mothering to make her phobic child calm down. She must have been getting frantic, because as a last ditch effort, she blurted out, "I'm having a baby!" That was weird. It was weird enough that I sat there in a stupor as they stuck me with needles, pumped me full of drugs, and began wiggling sharp objects in my mouth.

And that's how I got a sister.