As my mom and I entered the building the first thing I smelled was a strong scent of urine, mixed with food, and cleansers. Sitting in the waiting room at six years old all alone, there was an old lady walking towards me calling me as if she knew me. She had bags under her black, watery eyes, wrinkly skin, and long, gray hair. I didn’t know what to do and I started crying thinking she was going to take me, and I would never see my family ever again. The nursing home was the worst place to be as a six year old. The lady next to my grandma’s bed would constantly be talking to herself and start screaming like crazy as if she was fighting with someone. I would try to stay as far away as possible from her bed whenever I was in the room, or pull …show more content…
I hated going to her house. Every time she passed that fire station and the school right by her house I knew we were going to her house, and I started crying. My mom had to drag me out the van all the time. I would grab on to the seat and my mom would pull me from my wrist and she would always leave me marked as if I was tied with a rough rope. Her home had a unique smell it smelled like artificial flowers, pine corns, and cinnamon like an old lady’s house. She would call me, “la chillona” because I would always be crying when we went over. She was a very sweet lady and was happy all the time and wasn’t sick at all but just seeing her with her wrinkly skin made me not want to be around her. I stayed close to my mom, but try to stay as far as I could from my mom’s aunt I wouldn’t even look her direction. She loved dancing and would always put music, and sometimes she would try to grab me and dance with me. I would run to the empty living room, she only had two small couches and a TV and her artificial flowers, and sit in the corner and look out the big, dirty …show more content…
I was nervous of flying alone, and not knowing anyone over there, but most of all I was nervous, and anxious to meet my grandma. It was a long drive from the airport to my grandma’s house. Before getting to the town where my grandma lived my uncle drove through a long road full of dirt and everything I saw was dust filling the air because of the cars in front of us, malnourished dogs all over the street, and cows as if they were pedestrians. We stopped in front of a white and green house on the corner of the street. Next to the house was a store and right in front were a kiosk and this place called “la cancha” were the people in town played soccer. I got down the car and my grandma hugged me and kissed me and said I looked like my dad’s side of the family. She was loving right in that instant without really knowing me, but she was just like every other grandma. She looked and sounded just like my mom, dark skin, light brown hair, slanted eyes, and both their voice was soft. She made me feel comfortable and like at home that I couldn’t be afraid of her. She took me everywhere she went, she showed me around town and introduced me to family that knew my mom. When I left I cried not because I was scared, but because I didn’t want to leave my grandma. I loved my nana even if she was old because I started to understand that dying is part of life, were born to
The orphanage had its up's and downs I remember certain things such as Movie and gave nights. I remember feeling a sense of coldness I had never felt before I was lonely and at times afraid. From there I went to my first foster home I believe her name was Ms. B I think I was about 12 year's old going there. At this time I was use to not being with my mom and being my own man. Yes man at the age of 12, starting off it wasn’t so bad there was another kid there with the same name as mine. He and I use to sit up and talk about what and who we were going to be when you grew up. There were times when Ms. Johnson had her boyfriend come over to the house they would listen to loud music and drink she got so drunk that at times she made Marquise and I stand in the corner all night long for no good reason at all. I remember visiting my mom in rehab telling her all of what she was doing to me how I didn’t want to be there how mean and lonely it was there. I guess I was thinking I was going to go home someday as she was in rehab getting clean from the drugs. The years went by as I still sat in what felt like a prison with its ups and downs. I talked with my case worker about what was going on in the home they later moved me
I remember it was Freshman year [in high school] and all the upper class lacrosse girls told us to meet at one of the girl’s houses because we were going to go to a party. We met up there, and got into three different cars and started driving. The van I was in had 6 other girls in it and I was pretty good friends with the senior driving it so it didn’t take long for the senior to tell us that we weren’t really going to a party – and that we were going to go visit an abandoned insane asylum. I had never heard of Glenn Dale Hospital and the entire trip, we were told of how many unexplainable deaths used to occur at the hospital and how if you go there today, you can still hear the screams of the patients throughout the halls. I don’t remember what road we ended up on, but next thing I knew – it was all of us freshman walking through a long field seeing a large building in front of us. The closer we got… the slower we walked. We started talking about everything we had heard in the trip up. One girl mentioned that there are still bodies and papers left in the hospital and that the place was abandoned after the workers refused to keep working there after so many inexplicable deaths. Another mentioned that there are always cops patrolling the place and you can get arrested for trespassing. Ironically, as soon as the girl finished talking about the cop, we heard a loud voice from the other side of the building.
When I walked inside the front door something didn’t seem right. The feeling of sorrow overwhelmed the house. It was so thick I could literally feel it in the air. Everyone was motionless. They were sulking;I was befuddled. The most energetic people in the world, doing absolutely nothing. I repeatedly asked them what was wrong. After an hour or so, my dad pulled me aside. He said that my Aunt Feli had passed away last night. My mind went for a loop, I was so confused. I thought that he was joking, so I replied “You’re lying, don’t mess with me like that.” and punched his shoulder softly while I chuckled. My dad quickly started tearing up and said, “There...
Aging is inevitable. People go through life meeting milestones such as going to college, getting married, having children, and then growing old. Getting older is not only hard on the individual but, also the family. It is difficult for a person who has taken care of themselves all their life to wake up one day and realize they can no longer do things on their own. That is why their are nursing homes. There are many speculations about whether or not it is okay to place a family member in a nursing home however, there are many benefits to nursing homes. The adult children of the elderly should opt for professional care for their aged parents rather than allowing them to live on their own because, nursing homes have constant help, daily activities, and people who can give family members continous support.
The two Nursing Homes that I will be comparing are: Studio City Rehabilitation Center and Valley Palms Care Center within the San Fernando Valley. The Studio City Rehabilitation Center is rated as a low functioning site at 2 out of 5 stars, while the Valley Palms Care Center is rated as a high functioning site at 4 out of 5 stars. Both sites have differences and similarities regarding their overall environment, staff members, quality of measuring/ensuring care, and overall rating on the Nursing Home Compare Medicare website. These varying factors have resulted in the quality of health care for both sites to be different from one another, as evidenced by their rating differences and my observations.
There is a small road lead to her house which I have to walk because my brother car can’t drive through. On the side of the road are blocks of block beautiful golden rice field ready to harvest.I saw farmer get ready to go to the field and my parent use to be one of them.Suddenly I heard “Come in ” my aunt ,she shouts out from the middle of the field with an excited voice. “ Okay, make sure your dog was was not coming out from the middle of nowhere and to bite me like last time,” my mom said and laugh.We start talking and she asks “ do you still go to school”. “ Of course, yes, I’m going to start College when I come back” I answer. “ Where are Nhi and Mi, are they in school?” I ask. Nhi and Mi are my cousins, they about my age. My aunt, she
Since I did not know anyone else was my mother. According to my sister, we lived in our house alone, without any guardian guiding, or caring for my siblings and I. We ate our meals at my Aunt Gloria’s since we did not have any food at our own house. Moreover, It was a norm in El Salvador, the male to abuse their wives and children. Our cousins were our bullies; they saw their own mother abused by their alcoholic father. I asked my sister Yenis recently, “Why our cousins bullied us?” She said, “When you did not finish your meal, they would force you to finish your meal by smacking you.” When I was slightly older, I remembered I was standing on a ledge my grandfather build to prevent landslides. When I was standing on the ledge, I was thinking about how tall the ledge was, I looked to my right at my cousin when he pushed me, forcing me to fall down to the bottom of the ledge. I remember going in and out of consciousness. My grandfather picked me up from the ground and brought me inside my grandmother’s house. During the time, my grandmother clamored at my cousin, Yessica, to get warm water and rags. I remember feeling the warmth of the blood dripping down the back of my head. My grandparents did not take me to the hospital with the limitations they possessed. As a neglected parentless child I became withdrawn and
Soon thereafter my parents split up and I could feel their discord; like vibrations of hate upon snapping wires. They seemed to become somehow physically incapable of co-habiting the same spaces. It was as if something physiological that was once inside them was taken from them. Stolen was that strange organ that makes people feel the sincere need to be near someone else. As I grew older I began to observe my mother and her bizarre behaviors. Her anxious isolations and her pill bottle like a Xanax Barbie stuck to her hand. She was always so far away from me. I would sit and wonder where she would go; off to some corner of her mind where up was down and all the wrong in life was right. She was safe behind a closed door; in silence and stillness. I was always alone; and always lonely, with my mother in the next room. She may as well have been a million miles away from me. The older I got the colder the hugs became; it was like she was tired of faking it.
I grew up very quickly, since I was the baby of the family and my siblings were twenty years apart I was always around grownups and rarely any kids, at least not my age kids. The only kids around me were my cousins who were around twelve years old or more. So, there I was playing around in a time of grievance for the loss of my grandma. I ran and hid behind one of the largest flowered ornaments I had ever seen. It must have been at least seven feet tall or bigger, but it was perfect for a princess throne, It was just right for me. My grandmother must have been very popular around her town because I remember crowds of people. There were so many people I they had placed chairs al on the outside of the house and even brought a truck full of tables so that people can eat all the food my aunts were making in the kitchen. I remember picking at all the different kinds of sweet bread and sweet dished they had. The smell of cinnamon and flowers filled the air throughout the house. My mom was so busy with all the people that kept walking up to her and making her cry more that she had no time to watch or control how much sweets I was eating. It was a free for
The joys of having a loving, caring, and sweet grandmother, all stolen from me by cancer. The day of her diagnosis and the doctors giving her a time expectancy. Sitting in the room, Dr. Vargas mumbled, “Lucila Toro, I’m sorry to inform you have stage two pancreatic cancer.” As a child, I was trying to grasp this information of how all my beliefs in God could fail me, death I had hoped my
In today’s nurse, the work environment has computers and other equipment that were not available a hundred years ago. A technologically advanced hospital can provide an efficient and accurate care to the patient. For instance, computerized medical reports are beneficial when a doctor or a nurse want to trace the medical history of an altered or intubated patient who may not be able to give accurate information during critical situations. These advances act as a safety feature for the patient and hospital. Also, the nursing profession today is no longer for females; it is more culturally diverse and now includes the male gender. Today, there are many organizations that mandate rules and regulations for the nursing practice like the ANA’s (American
I can still remember that small enclosed, claustrophobic room containing two armed chairs and an old, brown, paisley print couch my dad and I were sitting on when he told me. “The doctors said there was little to no chance that your mother is going to make it through this surgery.” Distressed, I didn’t know what to think; I could hardly comprehend those words. And now I was supposed to just say goodbye? As I exited that small room, my father directed me down the hospital hallway where I saw my mother in the hospital bed. She was unconscious with tubes entering her throat and nose keeping her alive. I embraced her immobile body for what felt like forever and told her “I love you” for what I believed was the last time. I thought of how horrific it was seeing my mother that way, how close we were, how my life was going to be without her, and how my little sisters were clueless about what was going on. After saying my farewells, I was brought downstairs to the hospital’s coffee shop where a million things were running
She’s one of those old souls stuck in the fifty’s and refuses to see the 21st century. She is a good mother, it 's only when it came to me she lacked. I met my mother when I was four. She adopted my little sis and me. Through my younger age I hated her I absolutely hated her and she failed to understand why or explain to me so I could understand whom the lady was that I was staying with. Where my real mother was. She failed to help me see what was going on and with me only being four I thought she kidnapped me and I hated her. As I grew up I learned precisely what was going on and I no longer had a heart for her it dwindled down to more of a dislike. I understood why was with her, but I expended most of my early youth wondering why did this have to happen to me. And why did I have to be with her. My mother wasn’t a bad mother she only lacked the nurturing a love I needed. She held my early years against me and we’ve been stepping on thin ice ever
Every morning I wake up thinking that she is in the dining room drinking her coffee and watching her favorite TV shows. All of a sudden the truth starts rushing up and I come to realize that it was just a dream which was still hanging around me. In spite of my outward calmness, I felt as if there was a big hole inside me. My grandmother’s death was truly a sobering event and the most traumatic loss in my life. The commemoration of my grandmother will always be with me wherever I go and always tinting my dreams with her gentle smell of rosemary and the glittering silve...
After half an hour of waiting for someone to call and my sister and dad to come home also thinking about what to do. I gave up and went to take a shower. When I came out, my bed was made and my mom called me down for breakfast, which I didn’t feel like having. I just drank a glass of orange juice. My mother went to the porch to sit. After a few seconds I decided to join her. Since I had nothing better to do at that moment, I asked her where my sister and dad had gone. All she said was “I don’t know”. I gu...