September,
2001
6/29/01
Imagine yourself going to the hospital to go visit your
mother. After weeks
and months of suffering and becoming depressed because everytime
you go out in the living room, you see your mom fading away day by day.
It all started when my aunt and me came back from her house in
Mass. We
walked through the door not knowing what was going to happen
next. As soon as we got in the
door my mom told us she wanted to go to the hospital
because she was afraid she was going to die. We panicked, and called 911.
They came and we went to the hospital.
I was waiting in the waiting room with my other aunt. Time was slipping
away, minute by minute.
I was getting so nervous I must’ve drunk lots and
lots of bottled juice.
Then the doctor came out after 30 minutes. We walked in the room and I wanted to cry. All I could smell was the medicines and
things like that. All I could
taste was the bitterness of the juice I had drank earlier. “ Why is this happening to MY
mom.” “ Is it my
fault?”
Never in a million years I would’ve thought my mom would get
Lung Cancer. All three of us
stayed with her until 2 am. When
we decided to finally leave and get some sleep, I promised her I’d see
her the next day.
The next day we got a call from her doctor that she was in a
coma. When
they told me that I wanted to just scream out and say
“WHY!?” My two aunts that were at my house with me and my brother
went to the hospital and told us they’d call and see if it was okay with
my step-dad (that was already
there.) if we could see her when she was like that. He said “No” and told
us to wait at home for a little bit.
Finally my aunts friend brought us to the hospital around
5:30. I got out
of the car holding on to my eight-year-old brother’s hand,
not knowing what
was going to happen next.
Then I see my step-dad walking out to us, his
face plastered with tears.
I didn’t even have to think; I knew what he was
going to tell us. But
still I was scared to even think of the possibilities.
Then he told us… It was very upsetting and made me mad.
After that I went into the room to see my mom. I sat next to her holding
her hand. It
wasn’t soft and warm like before.
It was rough and freezing
cold. As I held her
hand, all the memories went through my head like a
speeding bullet.
Now you see why I hate hospitals. The smell of them reminded me of that day (6/29/01 R.I.P.
MOM). I never want to go through
that again. I always
think of her, day and night.
And whenever I do I say sorry for everything I
ever did, still thinking I drove her to get sick. The question of “Was it
my fault?” goes through my head everyday. When I find that out, maybe I’ll
stop blaming myself for it!