Personal Narrative-Assisted Suicide Case Study

About two years ago, my mom was diagnosed with a benign tumor about the size of an orange right below the temporal lobe. On a December morning, I arrived at the Holy Cross Hospital parking lot with my dad, aunt, sister. It took around 15 minutes to find a parking space. As I approached the entrance I was marveled by the modern look of the hospital and how they had set up a manger with baby Jesus. The entrance area had a Christmas tree about five times my size and a display of important figures on the opposite side of the reception desk. We walked to the nearest elevator, went up to the third floor, and walked for a while to reach the surgery area. It had countless corridors that it felt like a labyrinth. We arrived at the area where my mom

was being held, it was a cramped area since it had about five beds on each side almost touching each other. We chatted with her for a while until the nurse arrived to set up the anesthesia. We gave our hugs, kisses and our prayers to her and the nurse took her away in the hospital bed, as she turned the corner I saw her tearing up which made my heart sink to my stomach, I felt like I was going to lose her and I was not ready for that.
As the nurse took her away, we walked towards the waiting room which was about 10 feet from my mom’s room. The waiting room was also cramped. It had about 30 chairs but they were all occupied except for one and a few people were standing. We instantly took the empty seat and my aunt and sister occupied it so my dad and I ended up standing around the chair. After about 30 minutes someone left and I took their chair, it was almost right beside my aunt and sister. It was the stiffest chair I had ever sat on, I didn’t understand why the hospital couldn’t invest in more comfortable chairs for those who are waiting for countless of hours. I began to look around; the walls were reddish beige which gave me goose bumps every time I looked at them due to them reminding me of all the blood involved with my mom’s surgery. I noticed a holy cross placed at the top of a wall which I ended up saying my prayers to every few minutes. The room had vases of fresh flowers inside of them and a T.V. screen that displayed information about the hospital which didn’t help take my mind off things at all.
On another T.V. screen that I truly wished didn’t exist, there was an excel spreadsheet showing the status of every patient with words and colors and projected time the surgery would end. My heart would sink every time I checked that screen since it all looked as if it was a foreign. I usually calm myself down by thinking of a happy place, but where I was sitting you could barely do any thinking as you could hear each person talking or crying. The waiting room was extremely cold, almost freezing; I was sweating ice, had goose bumps and chills running through my whole body.
My dad had left the waiting room because he grew tired of standing around waiting for an empty seat, so he headed out and probably found a seat somewhere else.

I felt alone even though my sister and aunt were there. My sister was about six and she didn’t actually know what was going on and my aunt always felt so distant that I didn’t feel comfortable talking to her much. Once my dad walked through the waiting room door, I breathed a sigh of relief as I was not alone anymore and had someone to open myself to. We waited for hours, checking every 15 minutes the status screen in the other waiting area and sitting back down disappointed that nothing had

updated.
During the wait, I had asked my dad to be honest with me and to explain in more detail what the surgery was about and how serious her condition was.

He told me that my mom had a tumor about the size of an orange right below the brain. I stood there shocked in disbelief and finally reached the realization that this surgery wasn’t as simple as I thought. I started to panic even more making my stomach churn and began to stare into space thinking of all the possible outcomes. As I sat there glaring at the window, I started to realize that I could in fact lose my mom today. I could visualize having to drop out of school to start working to support the household. My dad was a truck driver at the time and he would be gone for months at a time. Therefore, I would have had to care for my sister as a father figure – taking her to school, picking her up, feeding her, have the courage to punish her for unacceptable behavior and be there emotionally for her while probably being depressed myself. I was disappointed in how God would let this happen to us and to my mother. We have been Christians our whole life and had never lost fate. The only reason I was thankful for was for the tumor not being

cancerous.
After about four torturous hours, it finally said that the surgery was done! My mom was being transferred to the Intensive Care Unit (ICU). We asked for directions where to find ICU but it felt like a riddle we only understood that it was on the first floor, so we headed to the nearest elevator to the first floor and basically jogged around the floor trying to find ICU. It didn’t take long to find it, we saw a nurse leave ICU and asked her about my mom, the nurse told us “Wait a few minutes in the waiting area; someone will come get you for visitation”. We sat for a long hour in the ICU waiting room and this area was a lot nicer, it had free water and coffee and chairs wide enough to sleep on. I finally got to rest my mind from all the possible outcomes going through my head every time I checked the status screen.
My sister woke me up and yelled “Vamos Juan, ya llego la señora” which translates to “Let’s go Juan, the lady is here”. I got up in a flash and headed towards the door way where my aunt and dad were talking with the nurse. I hoped we would all get to visit my mom but the nurse said only one could visit at a time…I was distraught because my aunt and sister got to visit first. Around 20 minutes later, they had finally arrived and I ran towards ICU and asked a nurse where my mom was located. I was pointed towards the room in the left corner; I walked towards the room and was asked to disinfect my hands. I finally saw my mom, she had a white dress and had some sort of white cloth wrapped around her head. She was sleeping, so I sat next to her and held her hand. I started to cry when I reflected about all the memories we’ve had and would have. I wouldn’t know where I’d be right now if it wasn’t for her since she has pushed me to do my very best. From that moment on I’ve appreciated every friendship, every relationship and cherished every moment I’ve had with them because it could be the last moment you will share.