A New Beginning: (A Memoir Excerpt)
There are times in our lives when we really don’t pay attention to the things we do until something that could change our lives drastically occurs. It was September 29, 2008. It was field day at the High School for Law and Public Service; the sun was shining, the sky was blue; everyone was having a good time (well, except the seniors). Ms. Perez-Reilly suggested that all senior stay in the school to do our SUNY applications, so we did. Seniors were to go to Room 426, which was the music room and the biggest one there is on the 4th Floor; the room was crowded; there were barely enough seats for everyone and that’s how big the graduation of 2009 was going to be if everyone made it until June. Everyone was oh-so-loud but I wasn’t feeling so good, on the other hand. We were halfway through our applications so Ms. Perez-Reilly decided to give us a break. I decided to go to the field and check out what was going on; everyone was supposed to go back as soon as possible but I wasn’t feeling so well so I decided to go home instead.
On my way there I thought I wasn’t going to make it. I could barely keep up with myself; walking to the bus was kind of like a challenge for me since I couldn’t walk too well and my dizziness and nauseas was really uncomfortable. When I finally got there, no one was home, not even my father, who is normally there all day long. When I got home, it was around two o’clock in the afternoon and my mother wasn’t going to get there until six o’clock at night. I was at a point in which I was losing my sight; I couldn’t stand up straight without tumbling. I didn’t know what was going on with me but I had never been through something like this before in my entire life. I even had a headache which wasn’t a normal thing for me since I don’t get those on a regular basis.
I decided to take a nap and waited until my mother got home so I could tell her what was happening to me. Not long after she got there I started to throw up, but the weird thing was that I hadn’t eaten much for the past day or so, so I didn’t know how the hell I was throwing up so much. It was a very dark substance, so I called my mother up from the bathroom so she could see it as well. She asked me if I had eaten anything dark lately like chocolate or something of the sort. I knew that I hadn’t; therefore, my reply was no. After this time I threw up a couple of more times and by the third time, my vomit was starting to look like it had chunks of some sort of red stuff. My mom had a suspicion that this puke was actually old blood and the redness that we saw was a sign of fresh blood.
It was eleven o’clock at night so my mother decided to take me to the hospital because something didn’t seem right with me. She didn’t call an ambulance due to the fact that she didn’t want me to go to a new hospital I had never been to before, because that would mean paperwork and we didn’t have time for that. Instead of calling the ambulance we just went on our own.
The hospital which I’ve been going to ever since I can remember was all the way in Manhattan. To get to 168th Street was going to be a drag because we lived a bit far away from there. By the time we got there it was about eleven-thirty at night. The emergency room was packed. We didn’t have to wait that long; the nurse called me right away; she asked me why I was there and I immediately explained to her. She also asked about the vomit and what color it was, but I really couldn’t describe it in a thorough manner. Therefore, I just showed her the bag with the sample that my mother had taken to show in case the doctors asked.
The nurse didn’t even think twice; she knew something was wrong with me by the look I saw in her face. Quickly, I was put on a bed to wait to get some tests done. Before that even happened, some doctors came to see me. I was asked the same questions over and over and also showed them the vomit sample. They told me that that wasn’t normal; the color of it was darker than coffee. It looked so disgusting.
Not long after the doctors left me there with my mother, the nausea started to come back. I tried to hold it in because I just didn’t want to throw up anymore. My mouth was getting watery and it felt like my saliva got thinner in substance. I couldn’t hold it anymore and I told my mom that I had to throw up and she handed me a bucket. As soon as I got it I went right ahead to vomit again; I was petrified when I saw what came out. This time it wasn’t that black, coffee-dark mysterious substance anymore; this time it was FRESH BLOOD. I started to panic and there was no one around. Not even the nurse that was looking after me. My mom got paranoid and yelled, “Help, my daughter is dying!” Then the nurse quickly came and cleaned my mouth due to the big chunks of blood that also came along. I felt so relieved after that happened but I was shocked when I saw all of the blood that I’d thrown up. I looked over to my mom and all I saw were tears in her eyes. I’m very emotional and as soon as I saw her like that I burst into tears. She then grabbed my hand and said, “Everything is going to be okay.” But I had so many things going on in my mind at that moment but the one thought that was leaving me in total silence was “this is it for me.” I thought I was dying.
I lay back on my bed. My mother and I started to talk; everything was okay until she started to nag about me not taking my medications when I should’ve; she said what was happening to me was all my fault and that I should’ve known better about taking care of myself. My mother always finds a way to argue with me over the simplest things. I told her to calm down at least for the time that I would spend at the hospital; that’s all I asked for her to do.
She calmed down and was just looking at me. My mother is very religious and superstitious as well. She then told me, “You wouldn’t believe what I’m seeing.” I asked her what she was looking at.
“You’ve been born again,” she replied. I was confused by her statement; I had no idea why she assumed that. She then told me that there was a big red number on my bed; the number was 613. The weird thing and shy she thought that I was born again, was because “613” was my birthday, which is June 13th. With tears in her eyes she said to me “God has given you another chance in life. Be careful what you do from this day forward.” Seeing my mother cry got me emotional so I cried along with her. Those tears were tears of happiness and thankfulness for the experience that I had just had.
After the first time of throwing up doctors after doctors and nurses after nurses came over to ask me questions after questions about the same stuff over and over. Then came a second time, where I threw up even more blood. I felt the warmth of it as it came up my throat. It was as if I was eating hot soup. The smell of it was iron like; the taste was just straight nasty.
I was losing too much blood and the nurses quickly came and put a few IV’s on me; one on my right hand and another one on my left arm. I started to get blood transfusions right away, along with platelets as well. The results for my x-rays had just arrived; the doctor gave my mother news that I had developed “varicose veins” on my throat and stomach and that somehow one of those veins on my throat managed to break; that’s where all of the blood was coming from. In order to stop this I was told that I had to go through a procedure of “banding” along with an “endoscopy,” which is just another way of saying “looking into the body” due to medical situations.
I couldn’t stay awake for that so I had a general anesthesia. When an endoscopy is done to someone, only the throat has to be numbed. But in my situation that wasn’t the case. When the decision of me going to the surgery room was made, from that point on everything was a blur. All I remember was waking up still in the surgery room; doctors tend to wake you up even if you don’t want to so you won’t go into a coma. I remember that when I woke up I felt like I couldn’t breathe; I felt like I had a tube in my throat. My voice was almost gone. I still felt nauseous and had the feeling that I needed to throw up once again. As a matter of fact, I did, but all that was left were the remains of blood in my stomach.
Before I was sent to a room for recovery, the doctors decided they needed to have me in the ICU (Intensive Care Unit). Knowing that I had to be there just terrified me because usually most of the people that would go there ended up dead or in a coma. Being there was like a nightmare; you didn’t have a clue of what was yet to come for you. My mother hadn’t called anyone in the family to give them the horrendous news. Not even my father knew what was going on other than that I was at the hospital. Even though I can’t stand him, my mother and I decided not to tell him anything because we really didn’t want him to have a heart attack. He didn’t know what exactly happened until after a week or so.
Since I’m a minor I was treated at the children’s area. The ICU I was in was for kids only. The two days I spent there were oh-so-inexplicable. My mother didn’t leave for a second. She was always there for me, day and night. There were kids with cancer who were really dying. Others had pneumonia and the rest were cases that I can’t really recall. In the ICU there aren’t really separate rooms for all patients. The only thing that divides our beds are none other than curtains. A six-year-old who was just across from my bed dead not long after I had gotten there. I got scared because I had the fear that it could’ve also happened to me.
My recovery in the ICU was quick. After two long nights and two and a half long days, I was ready to be in a regular room. Usually when someone is in the hospital, people have to share a room with at least another patient, but for some reason I got a room for my own. I think it might’ve been because of my age or due to the fact that they were still going to deal with a blood transfusion and that choice was safer for me as well as for others. Being a minor is a privilege at the hospital. You get free cable and you have a computer that’s connected to the TV so you don’t have to get up.
I was so happy because I felt better as the days went by. The first week I spent there, my family came every day and my aunt to whom I’m much closer to would go everyday during her lunch break since she worked at the same hospital I was in.
Looking back on that day, the day of my almost tragedy to be, upsets me. It is like I carry a scar that will never go away. The experience traumatized me. Today I still live with the fear that it might happen again and I’ve been warned it might but that the chances are very few. Before this happened I didn’t really pay mind to my life as much as I do now. There are times in our lives when something has got to happen in order for one to be more appreciative of who are and who we are not, for what we have and what we don’t have. Things happen for a reason and it’s for the best. We are all great people thus greatness is not given; it’s an achievement that has to be earned.
Living in the Shadows
A lot of people make their disgust too obvious
It’s easy to tell many want to point it out
Quietly make comments among themselves
You know you make it well noticeable
Why try to hide it?
Not knowing the path traveled to get to that hidden story
Making assumptions
Do you realize you break those souls?
Have you ever been in those shoes?
Now who are you to judge?
Want to know what it feels like
Here’s a little glimpse
To one of the most hurtful inner pains
One goes through and others cannot see…
First impressions surely give you the urge to shout damaging offensive things
Not realizing that to themselves those people tend to doubt
Feeling as if your skin wants to go two different extremes
Just when you think you’re about to blow an achiness starts to play in
Just when you think this massive pressure on you towards the ground couldn’t get any worse
It’s when your breathing slows down
As if it couldn’t get any better it’s as if someone was trying to choke you down
Walks get complicated
Activities get frustrating
Now the most abominable stress comes in when you take a look at yourself
A mirror is by far most the worst of enemies
The scale becomes a glimpse to stepping in hell
And just when you thought things couldn’t get any worse, self-acceptance becomes an issue
And sorrow becomes your best friend
Being this way is not always a choice
You don’t know what this person has; whether it’s a health issue or something abnormal with their hormones
How are you supposed to feel any better if society tells you how you’re supposed to look?
What drives people to go on this path? You might ask…
Well every individual has a different story
Take a look at mine
Never did I come to ever think that I’d ever be this “big”
Life has not been so smooth
And has almost driven me to go to this side that supposed to be heavenly
Low self-esteem is part of an everyday struggle
Depression keeps you company for quite a while
Mood swings come and go but not so long after they start all over
Insecurity makes you limit yourself to the world
Makes you burst in tears for any little thing
And entraps you in the belief that you’re not enough
People see you smiling and believe that you’re absolutely fine
But anyone can fake a smile to hide the misery within
Accept others how they are
Remember appearances can change
You never know what in the future this person might become
I’m sure that as perfect as you might think you might be even you don’t like some of your own qualities
Flawless is something no one in the world is
And I’m sure that even if you go deep in thought get hurt by small, simple things…
Look What You’ve Done to ME
All the screaming
Just drives me insane
The name calling
Just can’t take any more of this horrifying pain
Nothing matters
Nothing changes
One tragedy after the other
With no hope of anything is this place I would like to call heaven.
Hurting as if a knife runs down my veins
Blood flowing slowly
Heart beating without strength
All the internal scars
Not one day will heal
Just all the marks left on me
Remain and don’t go away
I forgive her every day
But the painful memories I won’t forget.
Thinks she has bettered my life
But all she’s done is taken it away
As for the rest of it, who knows what will come my way?
What would I remember?
Perhaps everything she has done to me
Thought of her to be a wonder woman; I was wrong
Kills me bit by bit
With no plans of putting all this to an end
Sore throat, dried eyes
All the crying and screaming never seem to stop
Like a wall who must stands there
Which everyone passes by,
Going nowhere, standing there just waiting to collapse
Strong looking, but hollow on the inside
Terrifying silence destroyed by that frightful echo,
What am I doing alive? What’s my purpose in life?
Am I here to stay? Or just vanish in thin air?
The one who I dreamed of being my hero
Just turned out to be my arch enemy
Making my minutes turn into hours
My hours into days, my days into weeks
My weeks into years, my years into centuries
And my centuries into millenniums…
