48 Hours 

             In the past 48 hours I have cried, laughed, and puked my guts out. It’s been really difficult. I never thought it would be this hard. I can only imagine what my mother must be feeling. This is at the same time devastating but at the same time it’s good that it has happened. 

             We woke up yesterday more nervous than I had ever been in my life. I almost had to talk myself into believing that what was going on was actually a reality and not just another fucked up screwed up dream. I kept thinking to myself, maybe this isn’t what’s supposed to happen. And it’s not. No one should ever go through this, and I’m sorry if you have. I understand and I feel your pain. I, myself, had never felt anything like this before. 


             Watching my mom lay on the hospital bed crushed my soul. I felt scratching and tearing in my throat like a bear clawing it’s way out of it’s cave from hibernation. Like a big ball of fire. I wanted to push all the nurses away and yell at them that what they were doing was wrong, she couldn’t go through this. 


            Once she was given something to relax she felt better. If only I would have been givin something similar. She was so relaxed because she even fell asleep. But she was still in a state of consciousness, because when I saw her like that so peaceful and sound asleep, I started to cry, and she said, “it’s going to be ok”. Which made me cry even harder. 

            How could something like this happen to a person like her? How could this happen to anyone?  She didn’t deserve to pass though this. No one actually does. It’s so humiliating. But the nurses and the doctor were so kind which made verything feel way better. But I couldn’t hold it in any longer. All the tears came flying out like bullets patiently awaiting to be propelled by the pull of the trigger.

              I was with her for about three hours before she had to go into the surgery. I didn’t want to leave her side. I almost ran back and asked if they were sure we weren’t dreaming. Maybe it had been a mistake? But it was real, and it felt so real. It’s still does. Because it is. Once I stepped out to the lobby I saw all our friends there. 

             If I would have stayed there I would have cried to death in front of them, and I had to be strong for my brother, and also for me. So I went outside. Got some food and came back to thank them once I had gotten it all together. Their heart warming words almost tore me apart. They were nice but they kept reminding me how unfair life was. 

            Then, about two hours later, I got called that she had come out and everything was fine. I almost ran to the recovery room. The nurses that were there were also very supportive. Reassuring me that everything turned out great and she was going to be fine. I told everyone else and they were happy to hear that just as I. 

            They took her to her room. Where we sat together for an hour before she decided she was ready for visits. Then they came, brought her a nice card, and some roses. I thought that was really thoughtful. But it’s what you always do right? I just wasn’t waiting for it. 



           We told the nurse if we could stay, my brother, my friend (Gabriel), and his aunt, who is out neighbor over night. The nurse said it would be a problem. The night gave us more highs and lows. I couldn’t stand seeing my mom in pain and not being able to do anything. The nurse was very kind and was always asking if she needed more medicine. 

             Once we got through the night she felt better in the morning. We went out to eat around 8 AM. When we came back I had a killer migraine. Then I started feeling nausea. I had eaten a salad. But soon it had came back shooting straight back out. Went to a pharmacy next door to get pain pills and they worked for the headache but I still puked some later on. . 

             She was released around 2:30pm today. The drive back was excruciating because every little bump in the road was like hell for her. Once she was settled in her bed, I took Gabriel home and headed for her pills. I had to wait an hour but I got the chance to buy her hand sanitizer and a neck pillow. Also a cute little stuffed dog. 


            Now, we are on the road to recovery. I’m glad the surgery is over but I hate seeing my mom like this. She is a strong, independent, caring, innocent, loving, kind, warmhearted woman who has done the impossible to raise me and my brother. She will get through this. She will get better, and she will be better. Because she is my mom. And I know she can do the impossible. 

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