Personal Narrative: My Mother

As time goes on, there are small clues as to what is exactly happening. “You may feel a tugging sensation at your ankles.” “He feels discomfort in his gut.” “I’m afraid we are going to have to stop talking now.” “I’m afraid you are going to have to stop blinking now.” The chapter then describes the conversation held between the surgeons. From what is written, the reader gets the sense that there is no care for the patient. Talking about the games, making simple jokes as if the boy was not there. “Did you see yesterday’s

There was an eerie silence as she walked down the corridor. Click clack click clack.. The sound of her footsteps echoed off the walls. She glanced out the window, the clouds were rolling in a deep black front. The trees were contorting from the wind, flashes of lightning illuminate her face. Those soft, caring eyes, and gorgeous brown hair. The epitome of perfection. She quickly pulls herself away from the window, she can't be distracted. Not now. Patient 13 had escaped and she was the only staff in. tick.. tick.. tick.. tick.. Time was running out, she had to find the patient before the storm hit. She had checked every floor except for this one; floor #2. Something seemed different about this floor to her. There was something off. There was no humming of equipment like there would normally be. Just silence. Rooms 210-224 were empty and untouched. All the sheets

​“Dr. McCoy! Patient Lawrence Exeter Junior is flat lining!” the nurse cried. Mr. McCoy and Lawrence Exeter Senior

I found myself in another room too small for the amount of people in it. The stale smell that clung to the latex of medical equipment offered a resurfacing of bitter inconclusive memories. White coats with clipboards shined lights in my eyes and prodded at my body. They rattled off the questions that had become all too familiar to me and I recited the same lines I have been for the past 13 years...

I looked around the cramped waiting room and took a deep breath. I took another one as I tried to sink further into the uncomfortable black plastic chairs that everybody who waited for him sat in.There were a lot of things about this room that made me want to bolt out of the door- the sound the secretary’s long claws made as she typed on her computer, the smell that could only be described as a cross between sterile hospital and forest, Everyone else that was sitting inside of that office pulling at their collars and making noises to draw attention away from themselves, and the big gold letters on the wall that spelled out Dr. Luke Jones M.D..

I shadowed medical professionals as they treated their patients, one of whom was a forty-something year-old man with Stage II lung cancer. I didn’t know his name or how long he'd been sick, but it was clear that he was desperate and emotionally worn. In the doorway between the scanning room and the observation room, I watched him prepare for tests. On my right, the patient stepped onto the “couch”, or the CT scan bed. I entered the observation room and was instructed to flick on a switch, alerting personnel to vacate the room so as not be exposed to the radiation. A red light flashed and the loud rumbling of the gantry startled me, a seemingly normal procedure to everyone else. Four doctors surrounded a control panel and a set of displays, shooting each other uncertain looks and mumbling what I assumed must have been bad news. Perhaps the tumor had spread. I followed the lead doctor into another room, never to hear of that patient again, never to learn what had become of

My name was called eighth and my hands trembled as I walked into the cramped room. The floor and walls were covered in light blue tile and there was a slight scent of filth and dirt, but it was concealed by the overwhelming smell of bleach. Standing in front of me was an average looking petite woman with greying brown hair in a lab coat and two hairy, burly men in light blue doctor’s scrubs, they all looked menacing, which did not help with my concerns and in that moment I knew my fears were justified.

“Righty then, let’s take a looksy,” the doctor said slowly, his tools making clinking noises in Gerald’s brain that resonated in his ears. When he heard the sound of moving flesh, he winced involuntarily.

Williams was seated on the right hand corner of the main desk area so he was closest to the entrance door. He is roughly around fifty, bald, very in shape, and a wide smile. I shake his hand and say, “Thanks for letting me shadow you.” He says, “Yep, grab a seat, kid. We’re not as busy as usual and now’s the time to ask me questions.” I pull up a chair but then two female nurses come over and put their hands on his shoulders and laughing said, “Welcome back, Dr. Williams! We’re taking a group picture and you have to join in.” All of the nurses, transcribers, and Dr. Williams are laughing, and from the outside looking in, it seems very evident that they were all close friends. Dr. Williams is back from a vacation where he had been fishing and camping with other doctors in the deep wilderness of Canada. Lebanon’s ER was on a friendly level but nothing like this. It is great and I am looking forward to the six hours shadowing him in the

“Your answer to my question was remarkably exquisite, it showed me you 're passionate about what you do.” He handed me the lab coat, “So, I would like to be the first to welcome you to Amelia South Hospital’s surgical team. I paged one of the best residents we have to show you around, he’s a pediatric surgeon.” Just then a charmingly pale man walked in, his hair blonde with wavy locks flowing in one fluent motion framing his gorgeous bone structure.

The next room should have been, but was not, outfitted like a hospital room. I held my breath and listened, in awe, to deep laboured breathing fill the cramped space. All alone, on a tiny cot in the corner, the patient looked abandoned like an afterthought. Skin-coloured lumps, of differing shapes and sizes, smothered the patient's face and body wiping out any evidence identifying age or gender. The guide explained that the lumps were also inside every organ. She offhandedly, remarked, "This woman is 20 years old and will die sometime today." Horrified, I whispered, "Please don't talk like that in front of her." The guide shook her head and said, "It doesn't really matter. She can't hear us and even if she could, she wouldn't understand.”

I can still feel the perspiration saturate my skin, the agonizing throbbing of my own eyes. Since the incident, 3 days before, fear still overwhelms my body. I can't comprehend it, I can't believe it, and I can't accept what happened. Until I’m clear, I cannot leave the hospital. *Pause and look down*. I’m glad I can’t. Every time I stare at the bleached polystyrene tiled ceiling it takes me back to that day.

But the next night, a night the same as the others, I hear the same sound. I Turned to Amon who never seems to sleep and spoke about it. “just the wind” He reassured me, but deep down I have a feeling that 's not it. Morning came, we go through the motions of the day: Mealtime, showertime, freetime. During free time we’re permitted to walk freely in an open room. The doctors often come by during this time to ask questions. Questions about how we’re doing, our mental conditions etc. They observe and analyse us as if we’re lab specimens. With plastic smiles and false friendliness, they talk at us.

“Welcome to Gnaritus, Dr. Mathew!” he exclaimed as his craggy, weather-beaten face lit up in recognition. “I’m Munro Barclay, assistant to Dr. Ailbeart Ross, the Medical Director. Please follow me.”

The only other visitor that Mrs Charlton knew would call would be the doctor. “Oh where was he?” she thought, as she looked at the clock one more time. “Not time yet” she said out loud. He normally came by around lunch time, after his morning surgery. and it was still only mid-morning.