I was supposed to die today.
About a few years ago, around the age of 8, I had an excruciating pain. I woke up in the middle of the night. I had a fever and my stomach ached so much. I remember waking up and being the loud kid that I am, I woke up my mother too. I remember moving to the living room. Lying down and having my mother talk to me. I remember my mom waking up my dad. "Tiene que ir al hospital." She has to go to the hospital. I remember that. I also remember my dad channeling the stereotypical Mexican in him and telling me that I should just rub some Vapor Rub on me. After my mom said that she'd take me if he wouldn't, he took us.
I remember arriving to the hospital. I remember being given a container in case I continued to vomit. I remember so many things from that night, but mostly I remember how scared I was. I can't think of the pain, just the fear.
I didn't know what was happening. Only a few months ago my grandmother had died. Now, I was hospitalized. They didn't tell me much. Even after I was changed to a hospital gown and placed under so many tests, they didn't tell me much. How could they? I was eight. A lil' kid. I still played with my toys. I still thought, well I had recently found out about Santa. I was eight.
But when I arrived to my room, at the hospital, I saw a lil' girl. She was worse than me. She didn't look like she was going to make it. I actually can't remember if she did.
It was an appendicitis. They suck. Basically it's an organ, the appendix, that serves no purpose but like everything else can kill you. Anatomy rocks. My parents knew. The docs obviously had to legally tell them. See each time they looked at me they had this certain, glare. They were scared too. They knew that I had the chance of not making it. Of dying during the operation or even before. They were scared of losing their lil' girl. I didn't know that then, but I know it now.
Every time around Memorial Day weekend I start remembering about that day. Those days. I remember the fear. Sometimes I think I actually did die and all this is just a new reality. Maybe hell, maybe heaven. I love looking at my parents. See, when I came out of that operation it hurt. The stitches and all the pain from being cut open raced back to me the instant the anesthesia wore off but when I saw my mom and dad, I knew I was going to be fine. So when I look at them I know that I will. Sometimes I start doubting making it past a day but when I look at them I know that I will be fine. Even if I'm in pain, I'll be fine.
-ChesterYaYa
