The year I turned seven, I was supposed to have turned six. I went from five directly to seven. The doctors did all kinds of tests on me, so many that my parents were nearly bankrupt at the end of it. The doctors took blood, analyzed it, lit it on fire on a full moon to see if the smoke it gave off was green or not, for all I know. They put me in machines with strange acronyms, prodded me with cold fingers, but they couldn't find a cause.
I remember waking up on my birthday, excited to get a new robot toy, or whatever, and instead being greeted by the shock of my parents. My mom screamed herself raw, and it's the only time I remember seeing my father cry. I was very confused. I remember that. I don't think I ever got my gift that year, but I could be wrong.
They rushed me to the hospital, and when the admitting nurse asked what the problem was, my mom said, “This is his sixth birthday.”
The nurse fainted right off her chair.
The doctor that saw me that day handled himself better, but not by much. After he got over his shock, he seemed to be almost excited, and indeed, he made a name for himself for a short while in the medical community with the paper he wrote about my case. He even named my condition after himself. Bastard.
After all the tests and news stories, my parents and I were left alone, but with no explanations about why I lost a year of my life.
I've spent the years since searching for other people this has happened to, but to no avail. I thought I'd finally found someone like me a few years ago, but it just turned out to be some sad middle-aged woman who gained a few weeks of her life back after she fell asleep in front of her television one night. I was jealous. If she could get time back, I thought, then so could I! But I've fallen asleep in front of my television every night since, and . . . nothing.
As you can imagine, I despair often—especially as my birthday comes around each year—but I decided many years ago that if I give up then time has won, and I can't let that happen.
I will get that year back. I promise.
