Playing the Reaper

On May 11th 2013, my grandma passed away due to pancreatic cancer. A little later that year on September 25th, my mom received a call from my aunt in Guam that my dad had passed away in his sleep. Then on May 14th 2014, my grandpa passed from complications of an allergic reaction to a medication. So within a year, I was left to deal with three immediate family deaths, one right after another. Losing such important figures in one’s life could leave someone depressed and unmotivated to move on with their own life and to rise above those challenges is difficult, yet possible. During this time of hardship, I grew discouraged and saddened, but over time I became motivated to set aside these struggles and make a change.

I received the news, that my mother had no chance to live and one doctor, placed his hand on my shoulder and sighed loudly with discomfort. He said,” she is not a candidate for any treatment.” I stormed into the ICU room, and held my mother’s hand; she glared at me, unconsciously. I couldn't help but hold back my emotions, so I could be strong for our family. As my eyes were helplessly filling up with tears, I couldn't help but to look around at the doctors and nurses working diligently, and doing the best they could for my mother. At the moment, I remembered the sacrifices that were made to help my mother and how saving lives was my calling from God. Thankfully, my mother survives but only at a twenty percent ejection

In the autumn of 2013 my beloved grandmother suffered from many medical complications. After discovering esophageal cancer, surgery to remove it caused a tear in her esophagus, which led to numerous health hazards. As a result, the cancer spread throughout my grandmother’s bloodstream and it was impossible to maintain her health. By October of the same year, she fought to maintain her optimistic personality that I admired so dearly as a child. There was nothing more the doctor’s could do and while she wasn’t able to speak clearly, she understood the circumstances completely. As my mother asked her if she was ready to rest she pointed up to the heavens with her eyes closed. As we said our goodbyes she was given morphine until she was no longer with us. To force my grandmother to suffer and endlessly wait for healing would have been selfish of us. It is hard for those of us who are healthy to consider death as a logical option in crucial situations. While it is a difficult concept to grasp, in certain circumstances it is the better

In October of 2016, my grandma passed away from a hard battle with cancer. My grandma was my rock, the person who always pushed me to be better, the person who was always encouraging me to keep going, and the person who inspired me the most. During the battle, I experienced a lot of adversity. Whether it was school or cross country meets, that feeling never seemed to go away.

In November of 2014 my aunt tragically took her own life. That day I got a tearful phone call from my dad; I could feel his heart breaking as the words came out of his mouth. I held back tears as I drove to his office to be with him, knowing that in this moment I had to be strong for my dad. Together, heavy-hearted, we went and broke the news to my grandparents. During a time of year when most people prepare to gather together with loved ones to celebrate the holidays, my family and I were unexpectedly thrown into a period of mourning. My grandmother asked again and again why Joanie did what she did. I was at a loss for words. I had no answers. I still don’t.

Even through all of my years in medical school, I still could not come to an understanding that medical professionals could not save all of their patients. Julia’s death haunted me, I couldn’t sleep thinking of all the ways I could have saved her and when I did sleep I had nightmares of her death. I began to feel depressed, and lost my confidence as a physician. No amount of schooling could have prepared me for dealing with the physical and emotional stress of my first patient dying, especially one I had frequently treated. If I had been treating a patient in my own home, I would have dropped to my knees and sobbed. Something about the location of a hospital numbs emotion, and I felt like I wasn’t allowed to be upset at Julia’s death. The other nurses enjoyed working with Julia as well, but I seemed to be the only one unable to deal with her death. The entire community turned upset, Julia was inspiring to both medical staff and the other refugees who knew her from their escape. The atmosphere was cold, like a warmth had been stripped away from it. I began to distance myself from my patients, and the other staff who had worked with her took note and saved me from going into depression. The other doctors and nurses knew how young as a physician I was, and the likeness I had formed with Julia. They gave me the best advice on how to deal with a patient dying; death is inevitable and medical professionals are grieve but also have other patients in need of

That day has haunted me for eight years. Early that fall morning my parents had taken my grandmother for her doctor’s appointment and when they returned they had news. I was sat down and told something most ten year olds do not ever have to hear, my grandmother had lung cancer. I froze; not saying a word my mom reassured me everything was going to be ok. I reacted just like a

When I saw my aunt and uncle walk into the waiting room, fresh tear stains streaked upon their cheeks, I knew. When my uncle opened his mouth to say something and nothing came out but a child like squeal, my heart was torn in half. When someone finally said the words ‘she’s gone’ to the family members that had just arrived, getting my extremities cut off of my body one by one would have most certainly hurt less. I shut down and sat in that too clean smelling hospital room, little by little people began to say their good-byes to each other and leave, while I just sat. My grandpa walked in and I looked up at the red neon clock on the wall to see that a hour had passed. Without saying a word, he motioned and walked with me out of the room to the end of the hallway where my sister and cousin were sitting. The corner where the four of us sat, you could look out the windows into a sea of city

Only 2 years prior, we had received news that my grandmother had been diagnosed with lung cancer, already in its late stages. Why is this happening? Is the only thought I could muster after having my seemingly well-grounded world shaken up. Only being barely 14, it was one of the first problems I had to be submerged in, at an age where I should be free of worries. So when we got the call we had all been dreading to receive for 2 years, we immediately went to Dallas to see her, for one last time.

Fantasy authors love to spin tales about mortality and the afterlife.. Despite the many religious beliefs and stories about the afterlife and what it may or may not contain, many of us love to read stories that have a fantastic twist to them when it comes to death and life beyond the grave. There are many modern fantasy novels that deal with mortality and the afterlife, but three stand head and shoulders above the rest. These novels each have a very different point of view about death and where we go after we die, as well as the meaning both concepts offer to a person’s life. Here they are in no particular order

At the age of fifteen, I knew I wanted to walk my own path. I was very close to my grandparents when I was younger and we did everything together. On December 11, 2008 my grandmother was coming to the end of a long hard fight with ovarian cancer. A hospice, Julie, was always in the house checking my grandmother’s conditions as she was in a coma. On this particular night I remember Julie taking my grandpa into the kitchen and him running up the stairs after she came out. I knew that this represented bad news for our family. Julie sat at my grandmother’s bed side with me through the night. She comforted me as I was mourning the passing of my grandmother. How Julie was able to balance her care for me and my grandmother that night was amazing. Julie gave me hope and reminded me that I would always have my grandmother in my heart.

No one that I’d loved so dearly had ever died. The whirlwind experience of waiting for my parents to come home, watching my parents, aunts, and uncles plan a funeral, and then missing school for both the wake and the funeral was exhausting. The jam-packed schedule did not give me time to contemplate and understand what had happened. In fact, those first few days after my grandfather's death were the easiest as they were a distraction from the truth. Attend a wake, accept condolences, attend a funeral, accept more condolences, and then go home being too exhausted to have any further thoughts than “I want to go to bed”. It was the calm after the storm that hurt me in the long

Three days before Thanksgiving Day I lost someone very special to me, due to a terrible sickness. She had Dementia, Diabetes, and two major strokes I was very close to that person. I would always go to her house once a month. When my family wasn 't busy I would spend every waking minute I could with her. She was like my best friend. She was a very godly woman, she would sometimes sing hymns and I would sing with her then we would laugh after words. Every time I go there I just loved seeing her smile at me. Maya Angelou once said that “ No matter what happens or how bad it seems today life does go on and it will be better tomorrow.”

I was concerned about the road ahead and what kind of treatment my mother would need to recover and prevent this from happening again, but knowing that she made it to medical professionals alive helped me believe that she was going to be okay. Today, my mother still struggles with high blood pressure and occasional chest pains. I wake up everyday terrified of what could happen to her if her stress reaches an unbearable level, but this makes me much more thankful for all of my days spent with my mother. I am still learning to seize every moment in the presence of loved ones and appreciate all the memories that can be carried with me

The poem “Reaper” by Jean Toomer presents a theme that is quite dark, for the mood of the poem deals with the effects faced by African American slave labor during that time period. In his poem, Toomer portrays African American laborers as black reapers working like black horses mowing the field. They are able to sharpen their tools and carry their sharpening stone in their back pocket working independently in the field but are equal to machines like mowers being pulled by black horses in the field making the poem’s tone serious and dramatic. Rather than black being used only as reference for a person 's skin, it’s used more as the object of what the whole poem signifies. Toomer is trying to emphasize the strong hold African