Gemma Gottschling - 02/12/2018

Hospital Visits

It all started with Ramen packets and a 911 call. We had been particularly low on funds that year, and had been relying on generic-brand everything to get us through. Being a single mother isn't easy - especially when your child has medical needs of her own and you own three pets. My mother had collapsed, and my eleven-year-old-self was terrified.

“Mom, are you okay?”

“Emma, call 911.”

That was really all she could make out before passing out.  I did as  instructed, and within minutes she was gone - I was left at home with the pets. They, of course, could sense that I was scared, which made them scared too. All I could do to comfort them was pet them and sing my favorite songs until we had all fallen asleep.

My grandparents couldn’t handle it very well. My grandma was deaf, so she tried her best to comfort the both of us - but couldn’t hear him scream at me. He said most things in the heat of the moment, I’m sure, but I was only in fifth grade, and couldn’t stop myself from bawling. It eventually got to the point where my friends’ family took custody of me for a few weeks, taking me to school and back. She, along with her family, were very stereotypical hispanic - so the rules were strict, but it was overall a fun experience.

“Michelle, Emma, come eat! It’s your turn to clean the table after, too!”

“Yeah, yeah, sure! One second!”

I remember going down the stairs to an exhausted but albeit-loving spanish mother and her two toddlers running around the house. Michelle’s older sister, Janine, was laying on the couch doing her homework. That day was the last day I was allowed to stay with them, as my own family eventually got restless about my safety. During that time, my mom was in and out of a lot of surgeries. Every doctor had a new opinion, new surgery ideas, and told her that she had a different condition. The bills were piling.

I didn’t see her much that year. No, I was too busy trying to grow up four years in four months. I walked a mile to and from school, woke up two hours early and made myself breakfast and lunch. To be honest, that year was probably the most effort I’ve ever put into school. I didn’t really see much of my family at all until the eviction notice came. When my mother had found out, she sent my grandma to help me pack the house and put everything into a storage unit. From then on, I lived with both my grandparents and my aunt. They traded me back and forth like divorced parents, and to be fair, it was kind of fun.

My mom was released for just a few days on Christmas, due to the doctors distress and my mothers persistence. However, she was nowhere near recovery, and had a live in nurse monitoring her 24/7. Two days after christmas, my mother was re-admissioned and we all went with. She was placed in a more permanent home now, with an on-suite bathroom and a bayside window. It definitely seemed to make her happier, and being on such a high floor meant it was quieter.

For the next two months, we tried filling the room to the brim with stuffed animals, flowers, and blankets, but the room still felt hollow. The stagnant clean air, the heart monitor, the muffled conversations between nurses and the echoing footsteps down the halls. It never felt calm. My mother was getting worse, so I was no longer allowed to see her. I continued going to school, though, and tried to ignore the situation. This went on even more time, until she was finally discharged a year later, removed from all of her wires and given bags of painkillers to cope.

Overall, this taught me that life isn't as stable as you'd expect it to be. Sometimes, rough things happen, and all you can do is what makes you happy. Even now, she still has episodes, which is partly why I don’t have perfect attendance. All you can do is whatever you can and enjoy life while you have it. Living quickly and happily is much better than eternally while depressed, in my opinion. Life is fleeting, so do what you can when you can.