Personal Narrative: I Love Pass Away From A Severe Heart Disease

I wait at the door. I put on my solemn, grim face, I cannot let these children see me as a soft women. I am anything but that, well I guess I am, but we all need to hide our inner emotions some how. My useless husband, Hans, mumbles, “I see the car”. We step outside, most people think Hans and I are crazy for opening our home to these two children, but every little bit of money that we can earn helps. Plus, they can help with the laundry, I think and smile.

I remember the day like the back of my hand. The day my own husband took a knife

Reaching across the center console of my car, I imagined the commute that I had into school. My 1992 Jeep Cherokee courageously braved the snowstorm of the year, with only one functional windshield wiper and a forlorn four wheel drive system. As I turned onto the Merritt Parkway, a Honda Civic swerved past me and proceeded to weave in and out of the afternoon traffic. Fast-forward sixty seconds and that Honda was now engulfed by the powder white trees which bound the highway. Instinctively, I pulled up behind the crash site, dialing 911 as I ran over to the mangled wreck. I peered into the car, my pupils the size of marbles, and the driver seemed uninjured; regardless, I proceeded to reassure the driver that Emergency Medical Technician’s/Paramedic’s

Cozy coffee shops, warm summers, friendly hugs…1.2.3. Disastrous events occur all the time. We are always aware that someone, somewhere in the world, is hurtling forwards into tragedy. Tragic endings leave behind unanswered questions, unfulfilled dreams, unspoken thoughts. Those who love you are left behind, in the dust of your presence, spent to forever remember only your memory, not your existence. Crisp slices of toast, piping hot cups of tea, fresh strawberries…1.2.3. We all tend to forget an end exists. We spend our lives compiling as many happy memories as we can, fully enjoying the good days, deeply mourning the sad ones. When tragedy strikes, only then are we reminded that the end is there, and we scurry and try once again to make the most out of

The surgery I had was a pretty major surgery some could say, four though six hours and it's compared as open heart surgery. It wasn't the surgical pain though that caused me to stay there longer then i was supposed to no, it was some kind of nerve pain that even the doctors and nurses had know idea what to do. My case was so uncommon they sent me into ICU after fives days of being in pain two hours three times a day. Not knowing what to do the nurses would just shoot me up with a bunch of drugs just to calm down the pain and all I could do was watch as this was all happening while gasping for air.

The remorse grey morning awaited. I never knew one person could have such an impact on my life, as well as everyone else’s lives. I always thought everything was just a beautiful fantasy land where everything was perfect. Waterfall coming out of everyone's eyes filled my imagination of what one man can do to a crowd. I asked myself one question, “Why him, why does it have to be him”. The emotions, pouring out of meand I knew the fall of 2006 was gonna be bad.

Finally, as he abruptly snapped out of his daze, he gazing at me with his deep brown eyes and sighed, "The doctors admitted my dad to Hospice today." Once those disheartening words left his mouth, his face became distraught, his eyes turned dark and droopy, his nose became stuffy, and his lips tensed tightly. Hunching over his long legs, tears began pouring out of his saddened eyes onto his freshly-ironed clothes. My heart crumbled as Grant Oubre, my consoler and companion, was crying beside me. I did not know how to comfort him much less myself; I was in complete and utter shock. As he pulled himself together, he glanced at me once again with his sagging eyes and melancholic expression as he said, "Hospice is where they make you comfortable

Please, oh please let the words come. I sit, and stare, and type, and I backspace. No one will like it. My work is crap. Crap, crap, crap. I crumple my paper watch it fall. The clock taunts with its ticking reminding me of all I want to forget. It creates a beat; a song. Poetic chords and dismal notes ring in my ears. But no, this is thought I should avoid. I am great- better than great. People will love this. Oh please, please, please let them love this. Will my legacy amount to nothing more than abysmal hope? This is the last time I think of it. Oh please don’t let me think of it. The blank page stares at me and I begin to write. One word, then another, then another, and another. You will never know what comes out onto the page until it is

I have an intruder in my body. I got the news today that I have a rare heart cancer, which nobody has ever survived. As I walk out of the doctor's office, I’m dreading the moment when I have to tell my family. I took the long way home, so I could think.

November 25, 2000; my night of bartending had come to an end. At 25-years-old, things were looking great for me. I was young, healthy, extremely good looking… or hot I you will, like gorgeous. Did I mention young? Anyway, things were looking great. I also had met the love of my life and we had been discussing the possibility of marriage. As I finished counting my drawer, the left side of my body went numb. My corner of my face drooped as the world began to spin and echo. An ambulance was called and I was rushed to the hospital. I had a stroke.

In sixth grade I met this girl named Emerson. Throughout sixth and seventh grade we never really talked and we just continued throughout school not knowing that later in life we would become best friends. She’s made a huge impact in my life and changed things for the good and the bad.

For most teenagers a normal day with their parents would include an activity like shopping or fishing. For me a normal day with my dad would last an hour at the most because of his cardiomyopathy. Cardiomyopathy is a heart disease which causes swelling, fatigue, and abnormal heart rhythm. In order to try and reduce the symptoms my father has had multiple surgeries.

My father passed away in 1991, two weeks before Christmas. I was 25 at the time but until then I had not grown up. I was still an ignorant youth that only cared about finding the next party. My role model was now gone, forcing me to reevaluate the direction my life was heading. I needed to reexamine some of the lessons he taught me through the years.

As we mature, we learn to appreciate certain people in our lives, for instance: our grandparents. We live with the fear that we can lose them in the blink of an eye, as every passing day brings them closer to their death beds (hyperbole), but we're too busy living our lives, making time for work, school, and friends (Euphemism). We assure ourselves that we have forever to spend with them, but that is where we are mistaken. Unfortunately, this year in January, I experienced the cruel reality of death, myself. I have realized, truly how much death can change your perspective on many aspects of life. When I faced with this death, I began to appreciate family more, began to express my love for them more out of the fear that any goodbye could be the last.

The death of a loved one is one of the most challenging events I have had to overcome. The summer of 2014, I was just going into my junior year, was one for the books. It was an absolutely amazing summer. My sister had her first baby in May and we were getting to make his first summer his best, but little did we know it would also be his last. We lost him at the end of July. It was one of the hardest things to cope with. So many unanswered questions still to this day stand.