The hospital became a very familiar place for me at the age of 19; as my mother went through all the necessary steps leading up to her operation, she was diagnosed with a benign brain tumor, although it was benign it was pressing on a major vessel blocking the proper flow of blood to her brain. As the doctors explained to us what needed to be done and that all the hard work would begin once the operation was over, I knew right then and there that my mother needed me now more than ever. Fast-forward two months later the day of the operation, sitting in the waiting room with my sister the longest five hours of my life which felt like an eternity. As we waited and prayed and waited some more The nurses and patient care technicians comforted
It all started when my mom had back surgery, and she was in their for 8 hours to be honest that day was one of the scariest days ever. I was afraid that something would go wrong, but I was so happy that I was wrong and everything went very well. Then a few days after her surgery she didn’t good so they called the doctor for an early checked up to make sure everything was fine.
Sitting in the bedroom felt like an eternity, my mom was talking on the phone with the doctor still and there was so many thoughts racing my mind it is like time stopped at that very moment. Right at that point I knew life was gonna change for all of us not just her. She needs all the hope, treatment, prayers, and most importantly love as
He abandoned the room and I knew my road to recovery was going to be challenging. My cousin came to mind instantly as she was able to relate to my experience. Three days proceeded and I wasn't feeling much pain since the surgery therefore, I decided to rise and practice walking. Initially, I felt a great amount of discomfort and walking around the halls was certainly an obstacle. Four days progressed, a gorgeous view of the sun was out of my hospital room window following a loud knock on the door.
After a successful donor nephrectomy I awoke with my husband by my side. Later that evening he was helping me up from the hospital bed, to stand, to
I waited impatiently in the hospital bed, in pain and scared of what the doctors were going to say. The nurse came in and explained that they would have to run tests and bring in their neurologist to be able to give answers for me and my
On the day of surgery, August 5th, my mom woke me up early. The car ride to the cities was quiet besides some encouraging words my mom tried to cheer me up with. She told me it would go just fine countless times, knowing how scared i was. When we finally arrived
On May 6th of 1997 I was born in St. Johns hospital in St. Louis, Missouri. My family and I lived in a small town in the suburbs of St. Louis. I lived with my mom dad, and older brother Tyler. I attended a catholic school from pre-kindergarten until fourth grade. The summer before I started fifth grade my family decided it was time to move. We moved about thirty minutes away from our previous house to a little town in Illinois called Bethalto.
It all started with long drive to something I knew was coming but didn’t want to face. It was a week before Thanksgiving and my imminent surgery was afoot. That surgery had me worried for weeks. It was a process that involved moving bone from my hip to my top jaw, worst of all no solid food for 10 weeks. I wouldn’t be able to run, go up stairs, and all sorts of other fun things. The wait to get into the pre op area, was painstakingly long. I was terrified. What if they mess up? What if I can never eat solid foods again? Then they put an IV into my arm and sent me to the operating room. After that I woke up and had over 100 stitches in my mouth and a couple on my hip. Keep in mind that I was ten and thought the worst about everything little
On June 20, 2015, I got up out of bed feeling refreshed and new because it was practice for graduation day. Walking to the bathroom, I took a warm shower and brushed my teeth with mint toothpaste. I got dressed in a rush throwing on some jeans with a black shirt. Heading to the living room, I stopped and asked my stepfather if he could drive me to school because it was his day off. “ Sure,” my stepfather said, sitting on the gray couch watching television. As we went to the car, he shut the front door locking the top and bottom. I got in the passenger seat of his white pickup truck. While he drove me to school time, I can feel the vibration through the seat from the engine. When I got to the drop off zone in front of the school, I notice class
I have a different adventure with communication than anyone else I know. I was not gifted with the wonderful ability to be able to speak. The connection from my brain that told my tongue what to do when I wanted to speak did not function correctly. This made my childhood and middle ages very frustrating. I was told I would never benchmark in third grade and that I should start learning sign language because I would never learn how to speak correctly. Thankfully, my mom turned down that idea and kept me in all of my speech therapy classes. People wonder how I made it this far and I’m about to tell the reader exactly how I was able to communicate with very minimal speech.
The day of her surgery, I remember, I got a text from my dad saying that they had just rolled her into the operating room. He was no longer allowed with her. This procedure was very risky, since it was an operation directly affecting the most important organ in the human body. My focus in class kept drifting to the image of my mother on the cold, metal operating table with tubes sticking out of her cracked open chest, and wires the only thing keeping her alive.
Once I arrived to the hospital, I was amazed by how big it was. People entering and exiting all the time, it was a real chaos. I checked in and I was told to wait in the waiting room. As I entered the room a very strange smell suffocated me, sick people looked miserable and depressed, and others looked sorrowful. At that moment, I was isolated from the world thinking about myself and if I was going to survive after the surgery, even knowing that it was a really easy procedure. The nurse called me and said that the doctor needed a tomography scan because he needed more details. After looking at the results, the doctor was surprised. He talked to my parents and I felt that something was wrong. The doctor
My parents arrived at the hospital and were visibly concerned with my health. After some time, the doctor returned with the results. I will never forget the look on the doctor’s face when he was about to give me the results of my
The long wait had finally paid off. Soon afterwards, two radiology techs came to my room, and brought me to have a CT scan done. By this time, I had begun to tremble uncontrollably, and for the CT scan I had to lay down on a freezing table while the machine passed over me. This did not take long, and I was soon wheeled back to my room. But before I had been pushed out of the room, one the techs gave me a blanket to put over the thin sheet I had been using. This was the one act of kindness that was shown to me during my hospital experience.
We got into the waiting room when they said they will be with us shortly. A room full of tears and an immense amount of thoughts was silent. When Dr. Marcotte came in the news was that my grandfather instantly passed away when he hit his head. The room that once was still was now speechless. The mix of emotions and thoughts emerged and this night was a night I would never forget, and not in a good way.