It still hadn't really hit me, the sheer magnitude of what had happened to my little sister. Her heart had stopped, and she had been hospitalized for a week and a half. She would have died, but I was acting the same way I always did. I even got mad at her, accusing her of milking her lack of schoolwork for all it was worth. I was angry with her for having a heart condition. I should have felt bad, I should have thrown myself in front of a train to help her, but instead I shrugged it off as nothing.

Another local girl was having gastric bypass surgery and, because of her young age, the national media was picking it up. Maggie was actually jealous, asking why they didn't want to do a story on her. I tried to tell her that it was different, that the girl looked like a freak and that's why the nation would want to see her. Maggie was too normal looking, even though she had gone through something as bad, if not worse.

Once, Maggie asked when they were going to take the ICD out. It was at the dinner table, and everyone kind of stopped eating and stared at each other. Even my little brothers were struck by her question. Mom kindly told her that it wouldn't come out. Ever. Maggie said, "Oh, ok," and turned back to her food, but we could all tell she was upset.

I should have put myself in her shoes. If I had come back from the dead -- as my sister very well had done -- and I had been told that I would have to live the rest of my life with a rectangle sticking out of my chest, I would be upset, too. Instead, I became angry, telling myself that she should be grateful to still be here. What a complete idiot.

***

That July, we went to Cedar Point. It was a Robinson family tradition to go every year. This was a vacation that we had planned months in advance, well before Maggie's episode. We were all excited to go, especially since it was our only family travel that summer, outside our cottage. It was a welcome break from all the work I had been doing, and I felt like I had earned it.

We went into the park that first night and headed straight for the Town Hall. We were hoping to get some information for Maggie; we feared she might not be able to take some of the rides. Our fears were confirmed -- there were four rides that she could not go on because of magnets in the brakes: Wicked Twister (which she didn't like anyway), Maverick (the newest), Top Thrill Dragster (which would have been her first time), and Millennium Force (her favorite).

I will never forget the look on my Maggie's face; it just dropped, all emotion draining away. She was heart broken. She tried to keep her spirits up, for our sake, but it was obvious how crushed she was. And then it hit me. Like someone punching me in the gut or dropping a brick on my big, dumb head. It hit me.

This was my sister. She was a new person, her life was changed. For the worse. There were things in the future that she would want to do, but couldn't. She would always have this thing looming over her, this condition, and she would have to be consciously aware of her every action for the rest of her life. I remembered how happy she was when she got first in track. Would she ever be that happy again? Long QT Syndrome is a meaningless phrase; it should really be called prison.

Later that day, I gave Maggie a hug. It wasn't a hug to embarrass her, like in the halls of our high school, but to show her how much I loved her, and how grateful I was that she was still here, still alive. I didn't say anything, and neither did she. I'm not sure if she knew what I was doing, but I did, and that was enough.

Fall, 2007

So now I'm back at MSU, and Maggie has started her senior year of high school. Things are still hard for her: she had to drop advanced Spanish because she missed so much of the basic course, and no one yet knows if she'll be able to run track in the spring, but she's hoping. And she's having a lot of fun too, hanging with her friends and getting ready for college.

She gave me a call a few weeks ago.

"Hey Nick," she said.

"Oh, hey, Maggie," I said. "What's up?"

"Well, you know those student section t-shirts you guys were wearing at the football game?"

"Yeah, what about 'em?"

"Do you think you could get me one? I would pay you back."

"Oh, yeah, sure. Not a problem. They're going for about 10 bucks. You can just give it to me the next time I see you. Do you want me to mail it to you?"

"Uhh ... sure. Will that cost extra?"

"Don't worry about it. I can cover the cost of a stamp."

We both laughed. We said our goodbyes, but I stopped her before she hung up.

"Hey Maggie ..."

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

After a pause, she said, "I love you, too."

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