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.