Dude!! You are totallllllly right! I completely agree with you.
C

Rate Indiana Jones 4 and answer these questions:



Your feeling after leaving the theater:

How many stars do you give it out of four?

Where do you rank it in the series?

What did you think of Harrison Ford’s Performance?

Shia’s performance?

Cate Blanchett’s performance?

Ray Winstone’s Performance?

Favorite parts?

Least Favorite parts?

will you see it again in theaters?

will you own it on DVD?

was your experience at all comparable to seeing Phantom Menace for the first time?

any other thoughts.

DAAMM YOU WOMEN FOR HAVING THAT SUPER POWER!!!

My first grader making fun of me, cause I made fun of her.

The following weeks, I drive around making funeral arrangement. I find a wonderful location in Covina, which is halfway between Los Angeles and San Bernardino, at Forest Lawn. The spot overlooks the San Gabriel valley as well as the City of Pomona. On a clear day you can see for miles.
On November 20, ten days after she passes away we bury her. Her funeral is befitting of a queen. She is transported from the chapel to her resting spot by a horse-drawn carriage with a precession of cars slowly following. My eyes are overflowing with tears. Once we arrive at the spot a trio of guitar players plays my grandmother’s favorite music. I sing along with them, just as I had done in the hospital when she asked me to sing to her.
The workers soon begin to lower her into the ground. Each time I see her further down I cry passionately. It’s a mixture of sadness and anger. I bite my lip while cursing the workers for lowering her. It isn’t before long that the process is over and grass covers the location where my grandmother once was. Slowly people begin approaching me, giving me their condolences before leaving.
I- once again- am the last one to leave. I stand over her final resting spot crying, and whisper, as though I am whispering into her ear, “I love you Grandma. I will miss you.” And I blow her a kiss. I walk to my car and I drive away with my eyes out of focus.
“I know that she is everywhere now, protecting me… my personal guardian angel.” I say as I drive away.

The End.

In about ten minutes my grandmother’s fate is decided. It is just past one-thirty when I turn in the paper with our names to the nurse. A clergyperson comes in to speak to us, gives us her condolences and offers a prayer for her. By now there are friends and other members of the family present bidding grandma a sorrowful goodbye. One by one they hold her hand and comment on how she has touched their lives. I am the last one to hold her hand before we give the nurse the authorization to turn off the life support machines.
“Grandma,” I say, “you have been my support, and my inspiration. You will always be in my heart. I will miss hearing you laugh and holding you close. I will miss you singing ‘happy birthday’ to me” and then I begin once again singing happy birthday. I am determined not to stop. “Happy…Birthday to me…” that is as far as I get. I begin crying like a little boy while in the background I can here my family and friends finishing what I had started “Happy Birthday to you.” Then there is a silence. I stand tall, wipe my tears away and walk to the nurse’s station.
“We are ready now.” I say.
At two-thirty two in the afternoon the process begins. The nurse informs us that the process can be as fast as minutes or as long as hours. He shakes my hand and gives us his condolences.
“Beep… Beep…. Beep… hiss… hiss… hisss”
I stand there holding her hand, watching the blood pressure monitor as it shows her pressure slowly dropping. “sniff… sniff” I can hear everyone sobbing.
My aunts and mom approach the bed and begin caressing her swollen face.
I hear one of them say “Mami, say hi to Estelita.” Estelita is my aunt who passed away at the age of nine due to pneumonia. “Say hello to Don F. Let him know that we still love him and think of him.” Someone continues.
I keep comforting my Grandma until I hear the unforgettable sound, “Beeeeeeepppp”
A flood of tears streams down. I look at the clock, “Time of death,” I say mournfully “three-thirty eight and twenty-eight seconds” She fought for an hour and six minutes.
The unending beeping stops when the nurse comes in to turn off the monitors.
There is a moment of silence and slowly one by one people approach Grandma kiss her swollen hand, give each one of the family members a hug and their condolences.
The remaining people in the room are my mom, J, Mari and I.
“Lets go” I say.
I walk over to Grandma, kiss her on her forehead and tell her “I love you. Now you can have your long await vacation. May you now rest in peace” while my tears are dripping on her.
I then turn around and walk out the room leaving her lifeless body behind.

Part 10 -The finale tomorrow.

Thank you very much. I really appreciate it.

“Well we are here to discuss the condition of Carmen Cortez. We have family members present to decide what procedures we will take to benefit Carmen,” the doctor states in a very professional manner. He continues by summarizing what has transpired in the past seven days and ultimately concludes with “and this morning her kidneys began to fail.”
The doctor tries to reassure us by saying, “I know how trying this is for you but we are looking for Carmen’s best interest.” He then adds, “we could leave her on life support for a couple of days and wait to see if her condition changes. Miracles do happen.”
“Miracles do happen.” Those are the words Ismenia longed to hear. “I think we should wait” she says with a defiant tone.
We all turn to her and say, “What?”
“Well if the doctor believes that a miracle can happen then we should wait and see.”
“Ismenia, do you think this is what my mom would want? Remember that well publicized case of the lady on life support and husband wanting to take her off, mom said that if she ever were in a situation like that, she would want to be taken off life support. She has already moved on to meet our lord in heaven. We NEED to let her rest in peace now,” my mother stated. My mother is determined to let my grandma rest in peace today.
“Forgive me,” the doctor begins looking towards my aunt, “I didn’t mean to give you false hope. Carmen’s situation is critical. In my professional opinion, I don’t see change happening anytime soon. She may be in this state for several weeks. I understand how difficult this is for you. I can give you a moment to come to an agreement, however if you should decide to remove her from life support, I need to document your consent. On this sheet of paper, please write your name and relationship to Carmen and submit it to the nursing staff. I will allow you some privacy while you decide.”
The doctors walk out.
We all turn towards D’s friend, E, who is a registered nurse for the county of Los Angeles and has been a part of the family for over thirty years.
“E,” I begin, “what do you think? What are her chances of surviving?”
“Yesterday, I would have said that she had a good chance of surviving because there wasn’t any damage to her brain. However, from my experience dealing with patients, once the kidneys begin to fail, there is a high possibility that other major organs will begin to fail. I believe that your grandma has lived a wonderful life and now it is time for her to rest,” E says with regret in her voice.
“It’s time to vote.” I say.
One by one we voted agree that today is the day. Ismenia is still apprehensive but ultimately says yes while tears are streaming down her cheek.
“Okay then, we need to write our names down on the sheet of paper and I’ll return it to the nurse’s station. In the mean time we need to begin saying our goodbyes.”
My mom turns to me, “Mijo, are you sure that you want to do it today?”
“Mom, if it’s gonna happen, I want it to happen today. She is my baby and I want this day to be our day”

So did you enjoy EuroTrip?

Hey what about...
History of the World part 1 "It's good to be the king!"
or
EuroTrip "Scotty doesn't know."

Even... Wedding Crashers "Make me a bicycle, clown!"

honorable mention...
Old School and Superbad.

It is just past ten-thirty in the morning. I stare into the beautiful blue sky, take a deep breath, exhale and think that now is time for me to gather control of my emotions and be the pillar of strength for my family.
Shortly after calling everyone, J arrives, then Ismenia with her husband, Norman and Norman’s girlfriend.
I warn them “She is up there. Please, try and remember her as she was. What you will see up there is not grandma. So be prepared. I’m gonna be down here waiting for my mom.”
An hour after calling my mother, I call my sister, “Hey where are you guys?” I
say with a sharp tone in my voice. “We have been waiting for you for over an hour. What’s taking you forever?”
“We’re rushing. The problem is that coming down the mountain they’re doing construction by the 15, and the four lanes become two lanes,” she says with frustration projecting from her voice.
“Okay, hurry it up. Talk to you later” I command before hanging up.
I return to the second floor to be with the other members of my family. Everyone’s eyes are red from crying. I inform Ismenia and J that as soon as my mother shows up with D we will meet with the doctor to discuss grandma’s condition; however deep inside my heart I know that all hope was lost. “Today is a good day to die.” I murmur to myself, quoting the line from the movie “Flatliners”
It is a quarter past one, when the final members of my family showed up. I prepare them for what they are about to see. As I expected they walk out weeping, mumbling why is this happening to her. This is the first time in decades that I have seen my family so united. Everyone is trying to console each other. I take command and huddle everyone in the waiting room where we exchange our thoughts and opinions about grandma.
“We need to speak to the doctor,” I begin. “I believe that the time has come where we decide whether we need to pull the plug. I don’t want her to suffer anymore. She has done enough suffering throughout her life and I want her to finally rest. She deserves to rest.”
Silence engulfs the room and slowly everyone begins to nod their heads in agreement, even though they don’t want her to die.
“I’ll go find the doctor so he can give us details of her condition.” I turn and walk out of the waiting room, towards the I.C. unit.
“Right this way. We can meet in this conference room. Please excuse the pizza boxes, we just had a meeting in here,” the doctor says as he continues to introduce himself and his staff of interns.
It is our turn to introduce ourselves. One by one we take turns introducing our selves and our relationship to grandma.

I stand outside her room, with a knot forming in my throat and my eye beginning to swell with tears. I stare at her. Her body is severely deformed. Her pudgy figure has been transformed into an overweight, shell. My baby girl is gone. A river of tears streams down my face as the doctor approaches me.
“Doctor, why is she like that?” Why did she swell up?” I ask with my voice cracking.
“Well,” he begins, “yesterday we ran the catheter, tested her heart and found that she had a blood infection. Early this morning her kidneys began to fail. Her body is now retaining the fluids we are feeding her intravenously. We will keep her on life support for as long as needed, however I would suggest that the family begin preparing for the worst.”
My heart pauses.
“Thank you doctor, I will speak to my family. May I have moment with her?” I ask as I stare at my grandmother.
“Of course,” he replies. “I will be around. Let me know when your family is here and we can discuss her condition and I can answer any questions you may have”
“Thank you. I will.”
I walk in. It is only her and I. I hold her plumped hand and begin singing,
“Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday Ti-Ti-lie” my voice cracks and I start crying like a little boy. My only birthday wish would be to hear her voice right now, singing to me.
“Happy Birthday to you” I finish singing with a lump in my throat and in a high-pitched voice.
“I love you my baby girl. I’m sorry that you are suffering. Please rest now baby,” I say crying. My tears were now dripping on her hands. I lean over and kiss her and then her forehead and walk out the door.
I overhear the nurse explaining to the receptionist that room 2514 has special privileges and can come in at anytime.
I gather my composure while I walk down the hallway and begin thinking of a method to break the news to the rest of the family. Once again I wait for the elevator, and once again I enter it alone. I press the 1st floor button, although I might as well press the “H” button, “H” for hell because what lies ahead is the most traumatic and painful experience of my life.
I call Ismenia first, J second and my mother last. D and her friends stayed overnight with my mother so the message will be relayed. “The time has come. You need to get down here NOW. I don’t believe that grandma will survive the rest of the day. The situation has worsened, she is now suffering from kidney failure,” I say with a calm and controlling voice.
“We are on our way,” everyone says.

Friday November 10
Halfway between the hospital and home the clock strikes midnight. It becomes official; I am now thirty-five years old. I know that I should be ecstatic that I am another year older, but I am not. My thoughts are with my grandma. I am frightened at the thought that I am about to lose her. I still have the second half of my trip to reassure myself that things will turn around. She WILL get better.
I pull up to my driveway, park and walk up to my apartment. It is dark. I don’t dare to turn the lights on, I just want to zone out to the world. Keeping the lights off somehow gives me comfort. I undress, get into bed, and start praying. I’m not praying to God, I pray to my grandmother, asking her to please stop feeling ill. “Please mami,” I say out loud into the darkness, as though my voice will transcend space and awaken her from her deep sleep. I close my watery eyes and cry. Eventually, I become so exhausted from sobbing that I fall asleep.
The sun peeks through my window, as though it isn’t sure if it should wake me. I get up, shower, get dressed, get in my car and take my trip back the hospital. From the freeway, I can see the hospital. I have become all too familiar with this recycling center of life; for every birth there is death. I hope that SHE will not be part of the process…, at least not yet.
I am the first of my family to show up at the hospital. I enter the building, and think to myself, “Well here I am again.” As I wait for the elevator, I look down to the lobby and wonder if the people down there also feel the same pain as I do, especially since it’s my birthday. I never really expected to be here on my special day.
“Bing,” the elevator alerts me that it is here.
A crowd of people walk out, some are crying; possibly from seeing their loved ones, others are indifferent. I just wait, impatiently, until it clears out. I am alone when I enter the elevator. I press the 2nd floor button and doors begin to close. It is as though I am destined to take this ride alone. “Bing” says the elevator. The doors open and I walk out unaware of what awaits me.
“May I help you?” the intercom voice says.
“Yes, I am here for 2514.”
“One minute please.”
My wait isn’t longer than a minute when I hear the clicking sound unlocking the door. I step inside and walk the long stretch of hallway. I turn the corner and walk towards my grandma’s room.
“My baby girl,” I exclaim. “My baby girl what has happened to you!?”
“Excuse me, why is she like this? Why is she bloated?” I ask the nurse extremely worried.
“I’m sorry but you need to speak to the doctor about her condition. He is doing his rounds and will be here in a moment,” the nurse says trying not to divulge too much information.
The doctor and his group of interns walk into my grandmother’s room as I walk out to allow them to work.
“Excuse me doctor,” I interrupt, “I would like to speak to you about my grandmother’s condition.”
“Sure give me a moment and I will be with you,” he says.

Part 9b later

I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for reading this very touching, personal story of mine. It is an autobiographical story. I have attempted to share this story on other sites and have been deleted. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I hope that this story has or is touching your lives. Due to the compliments I received from friends I took it upon myself to share it with the world. Many close friends commented that they felt my pain as they were reading it.
Feel free to share this story with your other JSH friends.
I thank you all for your support and your interest in this "guys" story.

The final parts will be added Friday and Monday.
Thank you!
C

It has been several hours since our conversation with the doctor. Ismenia and I stroll back in to the unit and ask to speak with the doctor once again. “Good news,” he begins “your grandmother’s heart is very strong and healthy. We don’t see any problems with her heart. However,” My heart sinks when he utters that word. “We did find an abnormality in her blood. We believe that it is sepsis, which would have been cause by her pneumonia. We are treating her with a variety of antibiotics, however it may be hours or days before we know if there’s any change.” Sepsis, a blood infection; I can’t believe it, things just keeps getting worse.
I hold a family meeting in the waiting room. I need to debrief the family with the latest information.
“… She has an infection in her body.” I say. “I don’t like to think about this yet but we need to prepare ourselves for the worst. If we need to make a decision we need to make it as a family. I, personally, do not like seeing her like this. I believe she is suffering.”
“Me too, I believe she is suffering,” one by one the family members chime in.
“Well, I say remove her from life support. Again this is a head of family decision; Mom, Ismenia, D and I. We must all agree unanimously if we are to take her off life support.”
“I agree. I say yes.” my mom says.
Ismenia sits there contemplating what to say. She drowns her face into her hands, lifts her head up and says “I agree. I say yes.”
“Okay, now we need to bring D and have her see grandma and have her cast her vote. But who is gonna bring her?”
D lives near downtown Los Angeles, we are in Rialto/ Colton. A round trip voyage would be two to three hours long. We call friends who were in L.A. and ask them for the favor. Finally a close friend of the family, someone who adores grandma does us the favor and brings D and two close family friends to the hospital.
When she sees grandma, D is speechless. She is visibly upset with what she sees. We sit her down and I brief her on everything that has happened that day. I conclude by telling her that she is the remaining vote. “I know that it is a hard decision to make, so I am not going to rush you. But please keep in mind that we all believe she is suffering.” I say.
D is fully aware of the situation. She and her friend E are nurses. E still continues working as a nurse in Los Angeles. It is she who provides us with hope.
“C,” she says. “Your grandma is going to be okay. I believe that you are getting ahead of yourself. Have faith in God. As long as she is still getting oxygen to her brain, and there is no brain damage, she can recover.” And with that statement she brings hope to all of us. Grandma can make it as long as there is no brain damage. We stay late in the waiting room comforting each other. “Well, it’s late. Let go home and rest. Tomorrow is going to be a long day, I say.” With that said we walk back in one by one telling grandma good night and that we will be seeing her tomorrow. We all go our separate ways. D and her friends stay with my mom in Hesperia. I drive back to L.A., digesting everything that has occurred today. “Tomorrow is another day” I say to myself.

Part 9 tomorrow.

I stare up to at the sky attempting to calm myself down, then I turn to my right and see Ismenia and another lady walking towards me.
I begin to walk twice as fast as she does to meet her.
“Hi mi’jo” she says to me as though nothing has happened.
“WHAT THE HELL!? WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? WHY DIDN’T I GET A PHONE CALL?” I shout. People in the vicinity turn around and stare at us, but I don’t care. I am giving her a piece of my mind.
“IT’S NOT FAIR.” I continue to shouting. “IT’S NOT FAIR THAT I SPEND OVER 72 HOURS WITH HER, KEEPING YOU INFORMED OF EVERY SINGLE DETAIL OF HER PROGRESS. AND YOU,… YOU GET A PHONE CALL ASKING FOR AUTHORIZATION TO PLACE A TUBE DOWN HER THROAT AND I DON’T GET ANYTHING. NOT A SINGLE PHONE CALL.”
I am ready to beat her to within an inch of her life. Her friend tries to calm me down.
“I’m sorry mi’jo. Yesterday, I received a phone call and I was so doped up with drugs that I said yes to the procedure and then I called your mother and informed HER of the situation.” The anger and fire that coursed through my veins I felt were now visible. I felt like a human torch.
Again I shout at her, “WAIT, YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT YOU CAN CALL MY MOM AND TELL HER OF THE SITUATION BUT YOU CAN’T CALL ME?” I walk away leaving her standing outside the hospital. I need to make another phone call. I immediately call my mom and make her a victim of my wrath.
Once I am composed, I walk back into the hospital and go straight to room 2514. Visiting hours are over, but I have a compelling reason to be inside.
Ismenia is still inside. Her eyes are red and still filled with tears. I ask the nurse to page the doctor, so we can discuss the placement of the catheter. He arrives and begins explaining the procedure to us. Once he finishes, Ismenia would turn to me and says “I give my authorization if you give your authorization.” I grab the authorization form and a pen and sign C “A”, grandson. The doctor concludes the meeting by saying
“We won’t have the result for several hours, so who should we call with the results?”
“Me!” I state and write down my phone number on the form.
I walk out of the unit, straight to the outside of the hospital. I begin calling family informing them of the current situation; that it would be wise for them to come to the hospital. I remain outside trying to comfort myself by saying that things will work out, although I am already preparing myself for the worst.
Slowly family members begin showing up. I meet them outside the hospital and inform them that I don’t have any news. I am still awaiting the doctor’s phone call. I try to prepare them for the gruesome image they will see when they visit her room. It isn’t a pleasant sight; seeing her with tubes piercing her body, bags of liquid nourishment to keep her alive, the beeping sound alerting you that her heart is still beating, the hissing noise reminding you that she is breathing. This is not the image any of us expected to see.

Thursday November 9
Today is a very important day, for it is my last day as a thirty-four year old. Today I decided that I will stop letting life pass me by and take healthy risks that will benefit all aspects of my life. I take my scalding-hot shower, get dressed, get in my car and fight traffic going back to the hospital. On my way, I stop and have some breakfast before reuniting with my grandmother.
It is a beautiful day. The sky is bright blue, the clouds are like cotton balls floating in the sky. I look forward to hugging my grandma, giving her a kiss and spending time with her. I arrive at the intercom exactly at ten. I go through their screening process. The door opens; I walk to the receptionist and greet her with a “good morning.” “I’m here to see 2514,” I say cheerfully. I walk towards the room and upon entering my life pours out of my body. What I see is horrifying. There, lying in bed is my grandma with a plastic tube jammed down her throat as though it was siphoning the life out of her.
“What’s going on here? Why does she have a tube down her throat? What happened?” I demand answers.
“Sir, please calm down. Please tell us what is your relation is to the patient?” The male nurse asks.
“I’m her grandson. What happened? Why wasn’t I informed of her progress? If you would have called me I would have driven here immediately.” I state aggressively.
“Sir we did call you. We spoke to the daughter last night, Is… Isme…”
“Ismenia.” I finish his sentence.
“May I speak to the doctor, please?”
“Sure give me a moment. He is doing his rounds. As a matter a fact he will be coming in to her room in a moment.” he informs me very calmly.
“Hi, I’m the on-call doctor, How can I help you” he says.
“Hi I’m C, her grandson. I want to know what happened. Why does she have a tube down her throat?”
“Well,” he begins, “last night your grandmother began having trouble breathing. We had to place a tube down her throat to help her breathe. Before we take such an approach, we contact the family and get their authorization. Last night, we called the number listed on the emergency contact and spoke to the daughter, Is…men..ia to inform her of the situation. As a matter of fact I would like to get your authorization to place a catheter in her heart. We need to verify that her heart is strong and healthy.”
“Sure. Let me contact Ismenia and ask her to come to the hospital so we can discuss this further.” I turn looking at my grandma, “Excuse me, are you sure you spoke to her.” I ask.
“I spoke to her” the nurse behind me interrupts. “I spoke to her. I called her just before seven. I remember because we were changing shifts.”
I pause. Fury surges through my veins. I can’t believe it. J called me and told me she was doing fine. How can things go wrong in such a short time? Most importantly why wasn’t I notified of the situation? I am geared to find out.
“Thank you.” I told the nurse as stormed out of the I.C. Unit and rushed to get out of the hospital. She could tell I was livid and was ready to murder my aunt.
“Thank you for calling…” the voicemail. I hung up and redialed several times before someone picked up.
“Hello?” Someone asked.
“Hello, I want to talk to Ismenia.” I dictate.
“Ismenia is not here, she went to the hospital,” the voice said.
“Thank you,” I say sharply as I hang up the phone.

Part 8b later today

Wednesday November 8
I wake up more relaxed. Once again I ponder whether to go to work and once again conclude that I’m not ready. Considering that today is hump day, I tell myself that I will reward my hard work with a week’s vacation and I make a conscious decision to return to work on Monday. I basically do nothing. I call J in the morning to get my update and have breakfast. I lounge at home watching “The Simpsons season 4” while indulging in junk food. I take a break from my “busy” day, and go to the store to purchase some groceries. While I am out, I notice that it is a beautiful day, and I decide, when I returned from the store to take a bike ride to the park. Although the ride is relaxing, I come home exhausted.
The evening is upon me, and I haven’t heard from J. I decide to call him to get the latest development.
“Everything is cool.” He says. “They are really taking good care of her.” Once again his words put me at ease. I thank him and tell him that I will call him tomorrow. I enjoy the rest of my evening by going to bed and reading my book.
“Tomorrow is another day,” I tell myself, “I will see you tomorrow Grandma, goodnight,” and I fall asleep.

Part 8a tomorrow morning

Thank you for the compliment. The best part is yet to come. Have a tissue handy.
C

Tuesday November 7
I wake up slightly disoriented. I guess I have grown accustomed to my sun-filled quarters. I slept well, and yet I am still tired. I debate whether to go back to work, and finally conclude that I am not in the correct mind-frame to work with children. My thoughts are still with my grandmother. I call J in the morning to get an update, but only reach his voice mail. My frustration level is quickly rising. I needed to hear some news. Even though it was ten in the morning, I expected to hear some news.
I attempt to keep my mind and body busy. I go, have breakfast at a local restaurant, and then treat myself to a movie “Flags of our Fathers”. The movie kept me entertained until the final fifteen minutes of the movie where a son and his father are at the hospital because the father is dying. Immediately, my eyes began to fill and overflow with tears. The movie, which is supposed to transport me away from the hectic life, makes matters worse. I begin thinking the worst. The moment I walk out of the theater, I phone J.
Hi you have reached J…”
“Damn it J! Pick up the phone!” I shout. I redial his number again.
“Hello?” the voice says.
“Hey what’s your problem?” I bark angrily. “I have been calling you and calling you and I keep getting your voicemail. I told you that I was going to call you ‘cause I need to be kept informed. So…? What is the latest?”
“Calm down. Grandma is Okay, she is doing well, although her situation has not changed.” He tells me in a calm manner. “I have been busy with work, so I have not been able to call you. I saw Grandma early this morning, and I will see her later this afternoon. I promise I will call you when I leave the hospital.”
A sense of peace swept over my body. “Okay, thank you for giving me the news. Give me a call later. Okay, I’ll talk to you soon, bye” The news leaves me at ease, however I am still concerned.
That evening is uneventful. I stay home and keep myself occupied, watching TV and surfing the net. J calls to reassure me that grandma is still okay, all things considered. I go to bed early and read my book The life of Pi and fall asleep.

Part 7 later tonight