My Brother’s Story
When I was 3 years of age my mother moved me and my baby brother, who was only 8 months at the time, down to Florida with her boyfriend. On October 17, my mother came home to find a bruise on my brother’s head. According to her boyfriend who was watching him, he fell off the couch and hit his head on the table. My mother decided to take him to the hospital for a CAT scan but the doctor wouldn’t do it. Five days later my mother received a call from her boyfriend saying my brother was not breathing and that she needed to call an ambulance. When my mom got there he was barely breathing at all, so she took him back to the same hospital that wouldn't give him the scan five days before. They found a fracture in his brain. They had to fly him to Tampa, Florida for more tests, and when he got there they found that the fracture had gotten bigger within the five days. My mother was told that if the doctor had done a CAT scan and detected it, they could have caught it in time and given him the right medication to allow his head to heal itself. As a result of the abuse, my brother suffered a fractured skull due to a blow to the back of the head, shaken baby syndrome, a sleeping disorder and many many more problems. After about three years my brother died from these injuries. It’s been almost 12 years since my brother died and I've decided to tell his story as many times as I can... I'm 17 now.