The About The Classroom Phone Rang

The stench of death hit my nostrils as I opened the door to go inside, which is why I always hated going to the hospital. We waited the fifteen minute queue, until I heard my name from a nurse. I followed the nurse into a small, beige room. I sat down on the examining table, as my doctor walked in. I told him my symptoms, and he did a quick check up. His cold fingers pressed against my lower back. “Breathe in and out.” He said. I did as told. “Slower.” he exclaimed. At that moment, while I was slowly breathing in and out, I could hear a small click every time I inhaled. The doctor looked up and said, “Ahhh, you seem to have pneumonia.” He explained to my mom and I what that meant because we were clueless. After he finished, he told us that if I waited any longer to go to the hospital, he wouldn’t be speaking to me, which opened my mom’s eyes finally. He told me that I couldn’t go to school for at least another two weeks, gave me a school note and my prescription. We left the hospital. My mom dropped me off, and went to pick up the medication. As I lay in bed, I remember thinking about everything that has happened to me in the past two days, and what the doctor told me. Those thoughts were interrupted by the opening of my bedroom door as my mom walked in. She handed me the medication. I swallowed the pills, and fell asleep. The next morning my mom walks in with a stack of papers. She said, “It’s alright if you’re not able to attend class,

I vividly remember that chilly night in March as I walked out of Fifer, the building my father now calls home, for the first time. I had goosebumps, but they were not from the cold I felt hit my skin. Instead, they were from the sickness in my stomach. As I got in the car, I began to cry and had to stop myself from running back inside. My entire world had turned upside-down. How could I go home without my father? How could I leave him in a nursing home, a place where he was too young and mentally fit to be confined? I had to fight the feeling that he didn’t belong. I had to remind myself of why he chose to be there, and I hated it.

Even six year old me could see the great suffering my father experienced not only mentally but physically. I recall once walking in the bathroom and seeing my father vomit, it was the first time I seen him so vulnerable. I could see the pain in his eyes. It was our third month in the united states and my father could not find a job, it was killing him. He was considering a job as a dishwasher to support his family, for that I could never repay him. A sprinkle of hope glimmered in our dark world when my dad got a job as a dispatcher at a local Airport, when I look back now I wonder if father ever felt disappointed that his hard nights of studying in college was futile, if he know that he would have to give up his career to support his family. Soon we moved out of my aunt and uncle’s how’s into a small one bedroom apartment in a sketchy neighborhood. By that time my mother has lost a total of thirty pounds. The once vibrant and sociable women was always tired, she often made called relatives back home which resulted in her crying for hours. My father would often cook and clean, it was fascinating to see my dad performing these tasks

September 27th 2009. I was on my dad’s weekend and my mom was in the hospital for a weeks. I would visit her every day and sometimes bring her flowers. But on september 27th I woke up and walked into my living room and my dad was sitting on the couch looking sad. I asked what was wrong and then a knock was heard on the door it was my step dad and half brother. My step dad had puffy eyes he was crying. He told me to sit down and my brother came out and sat next to me. My dad looked at us and he spoke up your mother had just passed this morning. I was shocked I was hurt I was scared.I didn’t know if i should cry or run away. I’ve learned that losing someone you love is tough.

Warily, I walked over to where my father was standing right outside the school, waiting for Cole and I, when I saw he had shades on, I knew for sure that something was wrong, due to the fact he never wore shades. When we were to the pick-up my whole family was in there. Noticing, when I jumped in the pick-up, my mother also had shades on. Anxiously, I sat there attentively for the longest second of my life, then my father stammered to us that grandfather had passed away. Countless emotions were running through me, overwhelmed; I didn’t know what to think, raving; owing to they said he was going to be adequate, grieving; due to I didn’t get to talk t6o my grandfather before he passed

We walk back to the shelters to get some sleep, and I sit there awake for a minute until my father falls asleep. In the morning when I awake, my father is very sick, so I take him to the doctor. The doctor rejects to help because he is a surgeon. I take my father back to the shelter to let him rest some more. I leave him to go outside to get more coffee. I think back to all the things me and my father have been through. Losing my mother and sister will always reply through my head, remembering them holding hands and moving off to the left, and my father holding onto my hand, and we walking away from them. The last thing I got to do was just look into there eyes and turn and walk away. Once I got back I found my father not there. I knew where he had gone, they had taken him to the furnace. I dropped to the floor wanting to cry, wanting to have a fit like a normal teenager. Deep into his feelings he thought “Free at last.” He was free to only think about surviving, and not to worry about anyone but himself. I will miss my father. I love him. I will never forget how much he did for me, he is the reason why I am still

I frantically run across the street to ask the neighbor to look after my two sons who have just returned from school. Then jump in my car and speed to the hospital. Not sure what to expect when I get there, I brace for the worst as I walk in the room. The room is filled with doctors and nurses all working to stabilize him before the trip “You’ll only have two minutes” I’m told as nurse hurries past me. “The helicopter is here, we’re taking him up now.” I love you was all I had the chance to utter before they rolled the gurney carrying his battered body away. “Where is he being taken” I ask a nurse as I’m running out the door. “Saint Vincent’s in Toledo” she responds

My grandfather’s body was slumped over on one side of his wheelchair, and I screamed when seeing his face turning purple. A few moment later, my father ran into the house, and he immediately drove my grandfather to the hospital. The doctor told my family that my grandpa only had one week left to live. The next day, my father saw a text from my uncle saying that grandpa has passed away eight o’clock in the morning. My father felt regret since he did not have the chance to see him for the last time. I was overwhelmed and shocked by what my father told me. My legs were shaking, and my heart was pounding faster than the beating drum. It was at that moment my eyes started to become blurry because my tears slowly ran down my cheeks. My grandfather was the most inspiring man that I had ever made in my

That first day, we drove him to the community medical centre despite it being less than a five minute walk away. At just 52 years old he could barely walk. His shuffled slowly from the car on shaking legs. A dull silence fell as we sat in the waiting room, I placed a reassuring hand on my fathers withered knee while he stared into the near distance, barely acknowledging my touch, mute and withdrawn. He smelled of urine and booze, of unclean clothes, the toll that comes from

I watched as my family said goodbye as a I lay in my hospital bed, breathing raspily. I told them that I loved them. I tried to reach out for my mother’s hand, but was stopped by the short slack of all the tubes and wires connected to me. She comes closer so she can hold my hand, so she can comfort me in my last moments.

“It’s going to be fine,” that's all I hear from the lady sitting next to me as I am crying and looking out the window as the house I was first brought home to grows smaller and smaller. I turned around and cried not knowing what was going on and why I was being taken from my home. The lady next to me began to comfort me and held me close while I cried. I didn’t know her or the other people that were with her and I was scared. I had no idea where we were going and I had no idea where my brothers or sister were. We drove for about half an hour and then we pulled into a big parking lot and stopped. We all got out and they led me into a large building that smelled like winterfresh air fresheners. The sound of crying and laughing filled the air while kids and

I remember the moment my uncle came to pick me up in class. My family wanted me to visit my father. I knew he was in the hospital for an allergic reaction. Many days had passed since I saw him last. Seeing him in the intensive care unit was terrifying. Large blisters covered his body from head to toe. Several had broken down to purple-black sores that looked like his body had burned. Skin swelled up and was oozing all over. Doctors had connected him with machines with tubes all over on his body. I felt he wasn’t coming back home. However, as the days elapsed, he improved, doctors removed the tubes and in fifteen days he returned to baseline. The fact he survived from such a severe reaction astonished me. This incident had a

While standing in the laundry room, I watched my mother pace back and forth from the living room to the kitchen in a panic, waiting for a phone call which she knew may never come. Mom bolts to her bedroom to look in the hiding spot where all of the lethal medications my father was taking were hidden. The Medications powerful enough, if I took even one, my heart would stop within an hour. Mother and I knew exactly what he was going to try to do. He was going to try to kill himself.

Around six to three months before this tragedy occurred, my grandpa’s health had taken a turn for the worst. We would be awake at midnight, hearing him violently vomit crimson colored fluid. He couldn't get up or walk without my mother or grandma’s assistance. A brutal cough would take both his breath and voice away. Yet, he was so understanding and caring of both my brother and I. He would do everything he could to play with me or tell me a story, since he knew that I didn’t know any better. A couple months before his passing, I came home from school to find no one home except my anxious looking aunt and my then three-year old cousin. I remember running to my grandparents’ room to greet my grandparents, but when I opened the door, no one was there. I ran to my aunt and asked her where everyone was. I could see in her face that she was worried, but she tried to be as calm as possible so she wouldn’t scare me.

My grandmother died a painful, slow death that no person should endure nor witness. I watched the person I cared for most in this world become too weak to walk on her own, suffer from too much pain to live her life, and become too drugged to put words together. Due to the cancer spreading, her body shut down, and because of this, I received a one-sided goodbye.