Stefanie Cope

Staff Writer

It amazes me somedays how independent I’ve become as I’ve gotten older. How I no longer have to rely on my parents for everything. It is a very nice feeling to pay for my own things and to take care of business. Although my parents have never once hesitated to help me, there’s just something about the feeling of becoming and being more independent. A feeling of accomplishment and a feeling of steadily working my way to becoming an adult. There are a few exceptions to this new found independence, though.

One of the things that can send me back to my mother like a blubbering six year old is when I get sick. I have always hated being sick and have been known to go days without telling anyone I’m sick just to stay away from the doctor’s office.

On February 25, I came down with strep throat. It’s been years since I have had an actual case of strep, but wouldn’t you know it, I finish my first full week of work at my new job and I get sick.

After I had figured out that I was sick myself, I was “all right I need to go to the doctor and get medicine,” but as soon as I got in front of my mom I instantly became six years old. I looked at my mom, quite pitifully I might add, and the dreaded words “I’m siiiiiiiiick” came out of my mouth.

Mom dutifully packed me into the car and went to the doctor’s office with me, taking care of me the whole time. She comforted me through my fight with the doctor, who said I would not be able to go to work at the beginning of the week, she assured me it would be fine. We would figure things out. When it came time for the penicillin shot she was there reassuring me that it would all be over soon, knowing how much I hate shots. Even as an adult, the idea of shots still frightens me. It must be some of that childhood fear left over.

It always kind of amazes me how my mom gives me the freedom I need and always has, but the minute I need her because I’m sick, or if I just need someone to talk to she’s right there holding my hand and taking care of me like when I was little.

When we got home, she set me up on the couch like when I was a kid, with blankets and movies and everything else I needed at that point in time. Even my little sister got in on the act —  making me soup and bringing me juice and water. She even tucked me in on the couch and let me pick what TV shows to watch. She can be a pretty good kid sometimes.

My dad even pitched in when he got home from work. Giving me the standard, “how are you feeling kiddo?” and sitting on the couch with my feet propped in his lap. Although I’m sure he was probably worried about catching the sickness as well, that didn’t stop him from hanging out with me. You know how it is with families, if one becomes sick, then the rest normally catch it as well.

They’re a great family all the time, but I think they’re an exceptional family when I need their help.

Nothing feels better than mom taking care of you when you are sick.

(Stefanie Cope is a staff writer for the Columbus Advocate. She can be emailed at