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When I was 4 months old
My grandfather was hospitalized
One year of back and forth
IV’s and monitors were normalized from infancy
When I was in fifth grade
My grandfather went in for surgery
His years of smoking had led to lung cancer
At the ripe age of 10, I discovered just how frightening the ICU was
When I was 15
I found my grandfather, struggling to breath
I called 911, gasping between sobs
It was at this moment, I realized how precious life was
That summer, when I was still 15
My grandfather was intubated twice
Tubes forced down his throat
I learned that life and death are separated by a thin line
I most remember the doctors
Asking me to translate for my grandmother
Who had left her home of Mexico 20 years before in a search for love, after her husband’s passing
“Tell her that if he isn’t intubated in 5 minutes, he’ll be dead”
I still have nightmares about that ER
Every time I visit the hospital
I feel my chest tighten a little bit
And I see his face, terrified of his lungs giving out
I can’t help but feel like a part of me will never get to leave the waiting room
Few places have watched me grow up like Rockingham Memorial Hospital
Home is there, and to be quite frank, I really wish it wasn’t