“We will need to move her down to I.C.U.” she says as J is coming in with a huge box of pizza, filling the air with the scent of pepperoni and onions, and a bag with a six-pack of Coke. “Your grandmother needs more personal attention and needs to be monitored constantly. If her levels become steady and rise then she will most likely be moved back up to this floor but in another room.” The therapist walks out. I turn to grandma, as she looks at me with a perplexed face.
“What’s going on?” J asks, as he is opening the box on my bed, removing and biting a cheesy slice of pizza, in a teasing fashion. While I hold grandma’s hand, I begin explaining to him the blood oxygen level situation.
“And so, as you heard, they will need to move her to a different floor, I.C.U. They told me that I need to pack up everything, since we will not be returning to this room.”
“Don’t worry about it. Relax. Have some pizza.” He says, trying to comfort me.
We almost finish the pizza, when a doctor and some nursing staff come in and tell us that it won’t be long before she is moved. They advise us to make sure that we are taking all of our belongings. They also inform us about the visitation hours for the I.C.U. “Every even hour, 10… 12… 2… and you can only stay for 15 minutes,” the doctor says.
“But I have been here with her for four days. Do you think they will let me stay with her?” I ask.
“Sorry, but I can’t answer that. You will need to ask the person in charge of the unit.” We finish our conversation and he walks way.
“Grandma! Please” I beg. “Please, relax and stop fidgeting. You need to get your oxygen level up. If you don’t they are gonna move you to I.C.U. Please… I don’t want you to go there.” She looks at me, as though telling me she is doing her best, to make me happy but things are out of her control.
It is about nine o’clock when hospital staff members come in to transfer her out of the room. Within ten minutes, I am evicted from my room and transferred to the I.C.U waiting room.
“You’ll need to wait in there.” The staff member says. “You need to wait a couple of hours while they tend to her. Come back around midnight.” He suggests.
After dropping off my belongings in my car and talking with J outside the hospital, I return to I.C.U. However, I refuse to comply with the staff member’s recommendation. I begin to demand that I be allowed to be at her side.
To my disappointment they reply, “Sir, visitor hours are every even hour. Your grandmother was just brought in. We must tend to her first before letting any visitors in. You must return at midnight when you will be allowed to see your grandmother but for no more than twenty minutes.” I look at my watch. Frustration overcomes me, knowing I have a grueling hour and a half to wait.
“11:59 and 29 seconds… 30… 31…” I think to myself; as I watch the second hand on my Fossil watch, move backward before moving forward. “57… 58… 59…” I continue. “buzz… buzzzzz…” rings the intercom system.
“May I help you?” the female voice says.
“Yes, its midnight and I am here to see Carmen Cortez, room 2514.” I state in a “matter of fact” tone.
“One moment please.” The voice replies.
“Click…” sounds the door.
I storm in, walk down the long hallway ignoring the receptionist, and search for my grandmother’s room.
“Grandma are you okay?” I ask her as she is sitting up in her bed. “I’m sorry but I couldn’t come in, but they told me that visiting hours are every other hour which meant I had to come in at midnight.” I continued.
Once I am satisfied with her status. I turn and walk over to the nurse’s station, across from her room. “Excuse me,” I say. “I would like to speak with the person in charge.”
Moments later a female nurse says. “Good evening, how can I help you?”
“Hello my name is C. I am Carmen Cortez’s grandson and I have been here since Friday…” I continue telling her what has occurred on the fifth floor and her rants about people trying to kill her, “and I would like to have your permission to stay with her here in the I.C. Unit.” I conclude.
”Sorry sir, but you are only allowed fifteen- to twenty-minute visits. That is hospital policy. You WILL need to leave after the time and can re-visit her every other hour.” The nurse says in a firm tone.
I turn around and walk back to room 2514. Grandma is sitting up right in her bed. “Grandma,” I say with a sad tone in my voice. “I will not be able to stay with you. These people are telling me that I can only stay for twenty minutes then I have to go out and wait until the next visit hour.” I’m irritated at the hospital for having such a policy, that I take it out on my grandma “See,” I say sharply, “If you would have relaxed up stairs we wouldn’t be down here and I wouldn’t have to leave. I’m gonna go home. I will be back tomorrow.”
She looks at me with a disappointing eye, as if to say, “What did I do? I did my best, mijo.” I kiss her, tell her that I love her and walk out. You never think about it, until after it happens. Thus, I would have never thought that my sharp comment to my grandmother would have been my last. Now, I will live on regretting my final words.
“J, listen they kicked me out of the I.C.U. So I am going home. I don’t think I will be back tomorrow, so I want you to keep me informed of everything. I’ll call you in the morning, so you can give me an update. Later.” It is late at night when I leave him the message. As I drive home, on a desolate freeway, I can’t help feeling sad and angry because I could stay with her. Why couldn’t the hospital bend the rules? I simply wanted to stay and comfort her. “I guess it was for the best,” I say to myself trying to rationalize the situation.
“They will give her more personal attention, especially since she is right in front of the nurse’s station.” By the time I got home, my body was ready to collapse. The adrenaline was wearing off. I am tired. I now looked forward to resting on my personal bed and taking a nice hot shower.

part 6 later

Thank you for reading my story. You may find the rest under: community>poems and creative writing> touching story


Thank you again. I really hope you get a chance to read all of them. Feel free to let your friends know.

C

Monday November 6
I am becoming accustomed to waking up in a sun-drenched room. Being on the fifth floor, I have a nice vista of the mountains and hills; the views of the sunsets are spectacular and inspiring. This day begins with my normal routine; I take a shower and give my grandma a towel bath. Since Saturday, therapists come in and perform scheduled treatment to assist her with her ailment. This time, however, will not be normal. The therapist, briefs me on the situation. My grandmother’s blood oxygen level is not progressing as they have hoped. They are pumping her with a low but steady flow of pure oxygen, which would, normally increase the blood oxygen level in the average patient, but unfortunately it is not benefiting her. They are going to increase the flow of oxygen and monitor her progress, and if this does not help her, they will need to take different actions.
“Sir, please make sure that you place the mask back on her after every spoonful of food. It is important that she relax and limits the amount of conversation. By helping her do this you are help us properly monitor her progress. If your grandmother doesn’t increase her oxygen level we may need to move her down to I.C.U.”, the nurse informs me, stressing how important it was for me to follow her directions.
“Honeyyyy?” I call my grandma. It is an on going joke we have. My grandmother used to work as a housecleaner and caregiver for an elderly lady. “Honeyy” is what her former boss used to call her when she needed anything.
“Honeyyyy?” I say again. “You heard what the therapist said. You need to rest. Do you want me to turn on the T.V.?” I ask. She shakes her head gently indicating “no”.
Softly she says, “Will you sing to me? I haven’t heard you sing in a very long time. I can remember when you loved to sing and dance. Remember when we danced the polka at Alpine Village?”
“Yes” I reply softly. I haven’t sung for anyone in a very long time. I don’t know why but I feel very nervous. I remember when she and my mom went to see me at a Ctmas performance at Saint Vincent’s hospital, when I was part of a chorus back in 1978.
“Okay grandma but you must promise to relax. I will sing you all the Spanish songs I know from my ipod, okay?” I ask and she nods contently. I walk towards the window, sit in the beige metallic rocking chair, turn my ipod on to my Spanish play list, stare out the window at the vista, and begin to sing. Luis Miguel singing “Usted” is the first song that plays. I sing that song with so much emotion that I choke up towards the middle of the song and begin to cry. After a couple of songs have played, I regain my composure and continue crooning my grandmother with the songs of yesteryear, songs she loved growing up listening to. A couple of times I am caught off-guard by one of the staff members, as they stand by the door listening to me sing.
“Wow, you have a nice voice. She must be really special, for you to share your beautiful voice with,” the nurse compliments me.
“Yes… yes she is. She is my grandma; my life, my love.” I reply confidently
“She’s very fortunate to have a grandson who loves her very much.” She adds as she is turning to walk away.
“Thank you” I say, as I continue to pick up where the song was. Soon it is lunchtime, and while I prepare dicing the solid food, I continue to sing. I follow the therapist’s explicit directions; remove the mask, feed, replace the mask, repeat as needed.
Night is fast approaching. J calls me to see if I wanted anything to eat.
“Pizza and beer sounds good,” I say. “We can eat while we watch the Raiders lose again”
“Okay, that’s cool. I know of a good pizza place. I don’t think that the hospital will let me bring in beer though.” He replies.
“Fine, Coke will do. I’ll see you soon… Later.” I hang up and move my chair close to her bed. I hold her hand, and I focus on happy thoughts. Hoping that my thoughts will surge, like water escaping a dam, from my heart to hers. The therapist returns to make sure her oxygen level is rising, however, her findings are not encouraging. Even with the intense steady flow of oxygen, my grandmother’s level is still the same and at times worse.

Part 5b tomorrow

Thank you for reading my story. I really means a lot to me. There is much much more about this story. I am trying to post one part of it each day. There should be about 10 parts to it.
C

Sunday, November 5
I awake to a sun-filled room. Grandma is lying in bed; her eyes are closed. She is resting as I had hoped she would be. I quietly get up and move around my new home, so I will not wake her. Once again, I quickly jump in and out of the shower. Having a luke-warm shower is problematic since I am used to having scalding hot water relax my body. Having learned from last night’s mistake, I vow that I will not leave her room unless someone comes to relieve me. Norman and his girlfriend stop by to visit for a couple of hours. This welcomed break allows me to venture out of my sterile quarters and inhale fresh, un-circulated air.
It is a very windy day; trees sway, dust blows, and I believe I actually see a tumbleweed roll by, just like in the movies. I call J and ask him if he can meet me for lunch at Subways. We discuss how mom is and the latest developments with grandma. I tell him about the nursing staff placing restraints on grandma’s arms, and how painful it was for me to witness it. He comforts me and tells me that everything will turn out fine. He tells me how much he and the rest of the family appreciate everything I am doing for grandma. I tell him, with conviction in my voice, “For her, I would move mountains.”
I know that my time is up and I need to return to my quarters to tend to my baby. J asks if I need a ride back to the hospital.
I kindly decline, saying, “Dude, it’s only a half a block. Besides I need to stretch my legs and soak up the sun and fresh air. Maybe later you can bring me diner; Pollo Loco maybe?”
“Sure, I’ll call you when I am on my way. Laterrrrrr!” he says as he leaves whizzing away on his motorcycle.
I enter the room, just in time to give grandma her lunch.
“Hey C, Jessica and I are gonna take off. Give me a call if you need anything, ok?” Norman says.
“Sure. Thank you for hanging out and giving me a break.”
“Yeah, no problem… see you later”
I turn, look at grandma and say, “Look my little girl, I have lunch for you. I am going to sit you up and you are gonna eat this wonderful meal that was made just for you. Before I give you this, I want to wash your mouth with the sponge.”
I understand that her mouth will dry out; however I cannot understand why she has mucus-like clumps around her lips and in her mouth. I have to constantly clean her mouth, trying to make her feel as comfortable as possible.
After feeding her, I ask the nursing staff if I can remove the restraints. I tell them that since I am here, and she has been a model patient, there isn’t any reason why she can’t have her arms loose. They agree and allow me to remove them.
For the remainder of the day, she lays in bed with her eyes closed, and speaks to Frausto asking him “why?” and repeating “the poor women with a few dollars.” To this day I have not idea who she was referring to.
J shows up later that evening with Pollo Loco and keeps me company until ten o’clock, when I tell him that I am tired and want to get some sleep. J bids grandma a good evening, kisses her on the forehead and tells her that he will be back tomorrow to see how his “baby girl” is doing.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, bro”, we both say in unison and then finish by saying “good night”

Saturday November 4, 7:00 am
I sleep throughout the night without incident. I wake up, check on my grandmother and decide to step out of the hospital to purchase some breakfast and clothing. I know that I will be spending the rest of my weekend there. I don’t care, as long as I am near my grandmother. A couple of hours later I return to my grandmother who is now alert. Her eyes welcome me, however as I gaze into them, I feel her spirit slowly evaporating.
“Good morning, mami. How are you feeling?” I ask.
“I’m feeling Okay…”she says coughing phlegm repeatedly and spitting it into a container.
“Did you stay with me last night?” she asks.
“Yes. The staff brought me a bed and pillow, and today they gave me a towel. I went to the store and bought some extra clothes and some snacks. I will stay here with you until you are discharged. If you need anything, please let me know. Has anyone come in to give you a sponge bath yet?” I ask.
“No. No one’s been here” she replies.
“Okay, well let me take a shower and I will ask for towelettes so I can refresh you” I say.
Upon finishing my extremely-luke-warm-borderline-cold shower, I ask the nurse for some body towelettes and begin to clean my grandmother’s limbs and back. She will have to wait for the nurse to come in and finish the rest of her body. For most of the day, grandma rests in bed as I read my book, For One More Day by Mitch Albom. I also keep my family informed as to my grandmother’s health status.
For lunch and dinner, I spoon-feed my fragile, beloved matriarch. Since keeping my grandmother on her respirator is paramount, I have to be particular on how I feed her. First, everything has to be minced. She exerts too much effort trying to swallow chunks of nourishment. I can’t afford to make her situation worst.
The evening is upon us and I am in the pleasant company of a much-welcomed visitor, Kelley. She has traveled from Santa Monica to provide me support in my hour of need.
“Grandma, Kelley and I are going out to get something to eat. I will be right back” I say.
We walk out of the hospital and drive to the nearest burger stand a block away.
My dinner excursion isn’t long. Yet when I return, I walk into a room filled with hospital staff members restraining my grandmother.
“Ctian!” she cries, “They are trying to kill me. Leave me alone. Don’t touch me. STOP TRYING TO KILL ME!”
“Grandma, calm down. Nobody is trying to kill you. Everyone here is trying to help you. Please stop,” I exclaim, as my eyes fill with tears. I can only see blurry images moving around tying her arms to the bed railing.
“Ctian please tell them to leave me alone.” She continues to cry out.
I feel helpless. While my gut instinct tells me to pull these people away and protect the love of my life, I have to stand at bay and let the professionals do their work. Once my grandmother is bound like a harmless, helpless creature; the hospital staff allows me to approach her to pacify her.
“What happened?”
“Well sir, while you were out Carmen began taking out all her I.V.’s She insisted that she we were trying to kill her and that it would be best if we would just leave her alone to die. We called you,” I promptly check my phone, and notice that I have just received a phone call from Norman. “and asked a family member to come a help us with the situation. We were told that someone was here and that they would try to contact you,” the nurse explains.
“I am so sorry. I went out to get a bite to eat. I wouldn’t have guessed that something like this would have happened. I am here now, and I will tend to her now.”
As the hospital staff walk out of the room, I sit in a chair next to her bed and hold her hand, comforting her.
“Grandma, you can’t be doing this,” I tell her.
“Well this place just wants to kill me. Everyone here wants to kill me. Please, mijo, not you too. Please don’t kill me,” she pleads.
I can’t withhold my tears any more and blurt out crying, “Grandma, I love you and I promise I will not hurt you. I don’t want you to die.”
She doesn’t utter a sound. She stares lifeless towards the ceiling, while I weep myself to sleep.

Friday November 3, just after 5:30 a.m.
“Who are you?” she asks “I’m Carmen Cortez from El Salvador, are you also going to the United States?”
“Grandma it’s me, Ctian,” I say trying to get her to finish waking up. I’m already up trying to tend to her. She seems to recognize me in the darkness, when all of a sudden she cries out,
“Oh no, Ctian, someone is trying to kill us! Someone is outside the window and has a gun!”
She is frantic and adamant that someone is outside trying to kill us. She warns me not to go near the window and begins to whine and cry.
“No grandma, nobody is outside. Look… I will close the curtain. Don’t worry grandma I will protect you,” I state in an effort to calm her down.
“No Ctian, please don’t. Stay away from the window.” she says hysterically.
I obey. I go to her and hold her close attempting to calm her down. Once she is composed and things are calm we talk about how she is feeling and how I wish she will settle down and rest. Our subsequent conversation stuns me. I don’t know how she knows but she utters,
“Son, please stop thinking about killing yourself. I love you, and your mother loves you. You do have a purpose in this world. Please promise me that you will never kill yourself.”
I’m speechless. How did she know of my impure thoughts, when I hadn’t told anyone?
“Grandma, of course I don’t want to kill myself” I reply, lying to her. “Don’t worry about me, grandma. I will be okay,” I add.
“I love you mijo.” She says.
“I love you too Grandma,” I answer.
I know that things are really serious when she asks me to help her go to the restroom. I am exasperated with the amount of clutter in her room. She can’t stand on her own and my attempts to help her are confined by the limited space I have to hold her, in addition her weight is too much for me to bear. “Mom” I cry, “Mom… Mom…. Ma! I need your help. She needs to go to the restroom and she can’t move on her own.”
“Okay,” she says still groggy from being asleep.
My mom gets up and tries unsuccessfully to move her.
“Mama, you need to try to move your legs” my mom pleads.
“Menche…” (Menche is my mom’s nickname. Her name is actually M, but they call her Menche.) “…I can’t.” Grandma replies.
“Okay, mama. mijo, we’re going to use the bedpan,” she says as she turns to me. “Please take out the aluminum chair that has a toilet seat on in it. Place it somewhere where it will fit.” I promptly comply with her request.
“Mama, you will need to help us move you to the chair. Please move slowly towards the bottom edge of the bed, so Ctian and I can lift you and move you towards the chair.”
Slowly, grandma moves with our assistance.
“Okay, 1… 2… 3…” My mom and I lift her and scoot her to the chair.
When grandma is done, my mom and I talk about calling the doctor. She informs me that we will need to wait until nine to call since the doctor’s office opens at that time. So I wait two hours and call the doctor at about eight-thirty. I explain to the doctor the symptoms my grandmother was showing and he informs me that I should call 911 and get her to the hospital with haste. It’s at this point where; I know I will need to summon all my strength and face adversity.
I chase the polished cherry-red paramedic as its siren screams “MOOOOVE OUT OF THE WAY, CTIAN’S GRANDMOTHER IS VERY SICK AND WE NEED TO GET HER TO THE HOSPITAL RIGHT NOW!”
I park in the first space I find and rush into the emergency room. It’s now time for me to take charge. Even though my mother rode in the ambulance, I am the one who was level headed enough to speak for my dear grandmother. Although I’m exhausted, having only slept an hour or two in the past 36 hours, my adrenaline and coffee keep me going.
The nurse addresses me, “Excuse me sir you need to wait outside in the waiting room.”
“I’m sorry but this is my grandmother and I have been with her all night and I’m the only one that knows her condition. If at all possible, I would like to stay with her until the doctor sees her.” I reply.
“Okay, but only until the doctor sees her.”
“Thank you,” I sigh.
Time seems to have stopped. I check the time when we come in. It’s ten in the morning… still time for breakfast. I walk down the lobby to the waiting area and ask my mother and J to please get me something to eat. While J is away, my mother and I sit and talk about things I should know about grandma; what type of medicine she is on… what she is allergic to… anything that would be pertinent to the situation.
“I don’t feel well” my mother states.
“Just wait for J, eat and then if you still don’t feel well go home and rest. I’m here. Everything is under control. I will keep you informed if her situation changes.” I tell her.
“Okay, we’ll see how I feel after I eat.”
An hour later, J comes back with food from McDonalds. Life is moving in slow motion. Every minute there feels like an eternity. I check the time again and it’s only one in the afternoon. It has been a little bit over an hour since my mother and J voyaged back into the outside world, while grandma and I battle fear, exhaustion, and her illness.
“Good afternoon, what brings you to the emergency room today” says the doctor.
“Hello doctor, I’m C and this is my grandmother.” I continue to explain to him everything that has transpired over the past fifteen hours.
“Well let’s run some tests and figure out what is wrong with her. I can see that her blood oxygen level is low, so we are going to give her pure oxygen to raise her level. I’ll be back later to give you the results of our findings.”
“Thank you doctor” I say, as he walks out of the room.
I am determined to serve as my grandmother’s personal nurse. Every time something beeps, I page the nurse and document in my head every single movement they make so I am able to take care of non-emergency issues.
“Beep… beep… beep” sound the monitors, monitoring my grandmother’s heartbeat.
“hisssssss” exhales the oxygen mask, which covers her nose and mouth.
“Dr. so and so you are needed in…” says the P.A. system. I sit on the floor and listen to the emergency room. I can feel the room inhale and exhale.
“How routine this is for hospital staff workers”, I think. “People come in and out, live and die. They seem to be immune to the pain.”
I hear a lady crying in the next room.
Outside I hear a doctor preparing staff members, “We are getting a Medivac patient. They are flying him in… E.T.A. 15 minutes. Head trauma resulting from a vehicle collision; we need…” his directions cause me to reminisce about my tragic car accident. I can only wish that it isn’t quite severe.
For the next couple of hours I sit on the floor, pace around the confines of my quarantine cell, anxiously waiting for the doctor to return with good news.
The doctor walks in as I am trying to nap, crouching on the floor.
“It seems that what your grandmother has is a case of pneumonia in the lower part of her right lung. Her symptoms substantiate our findings. Her delusional state is caused by her low blood oxygen level, which is correlated to her lung being infected. Your grandmother will need to be admitted into the hospital for a couple of days. This way we can monitor her progress.”
This wasn’t good news.
“I understand. Thank you, doctor. Since I am the only family here with her, do you believe that I can stay with her overnight?” I ask, prepared to hear a “no.”
“I can’t make that call. You need to ask the admitting staff later when they come down to get some information from you and her.”
“Okay, thank you again doctor” I say.
I sit waiting patiently, until we are moved upstairs. Grandma is lying in bed with her eyes closed, when out of nowhere she says…
“F? Why? I loved you! Why?”
I become cold, stricken with fear. I think to myself that the moment people start communicating with the dead; the cold ominous hands of death are nearby. I can only hope that somehow it would forget about her and move on. Crouching in the corner of the room, I cry profusely as I hear my grandmother have a conversation with my deceased grandfather. She speaks pauses and replies to the inaudible comments.
I feel helpless.
“Why? How? Please someone stop this madness” I think to myself.
We are in another room by seven-thirty. After speaking with the hospital personnel, I am allowed to stay with my grandmother until she is discharged.
The wonderful staff brings me a gurney, blankets and a pillow.
“Sorry it’s not the Ritz Carlton” the nurse jokes.
“It’s fine, as long as I get a continental breakfast and the paper in the morning” I scoff back.
“How about free cable?” he says.
“Fine, I guess.” I say laughing.
It’s ten in the evening, when I turn off the light, leaving the one above her headboard on.
“I love you Grandma. Good night!”

Part 3 tomorrow

I found this on another site and thought it was hilarious and fun.
I thought we JSH'ers might get a kick out of making up our own little story.
Lets try and see if we can make it last a long time *LOL*

Ok so here are the rules:

1- You cannot comment on your own posting

2- You can only post three words

3- Keep the story going

================================

Once upon a

I have decided to post something very dear to me. I dont' mind sharing it with you. Note this will be in parts.


This is part 1

8 DAYS
By C

Thursday November 2, 2006 7:27 pm
I am sitting on the couch watching T.V. when the phone rings. It’s my brother, J.
“Hey” I say.
“Hey bro…” he replies, with a worried tone in his voice. “I’m calling you because grandma is sick and she has been calling your name non-stop for the past hour or so.” In the background I hear my grandmother call me by my childhood nickname, “Ti-Ti-lie.”
“What happened?” I ask, “How long has she been sick?” I can hear her crying, and repeating my name, saying how much she loves me.
“I don’t know but I think that you should talk to her”, he says.
“Hello? Grandma?” What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
“Ti-Ti-lie, I love you!” she utters. “I love you Ti-Ti-lie. Ti-Ti-lie. Ti-Ti-lie. I love you.”
In the background I hear J telling her to please calm down.
“Hello?” he says.
“Yeah. Listen,” I tell him, “I am already packing up my stuff and walking out the door. With traffic, I should be there within an hour. I will call you when I am passing Ontario.”
I hang up the phone. I can’t help feeling terrified because of the situation. Somehow in the recesses of my mind I know that the time I have been dreading is now upon me. I only wish that I were wrong. I grab my backpack and fill it with my bare necessities: toothbrush, pants, shirt, boxers, a book, and my ipod- Yes! It is a necessity- and I storm out of my apartment.
As I am fighting traffic, bobbing and weaving on the 210, I begin phoning my school administration informing them that I will not be at work the next day. I struggle to hold back my tears but the terror of losing my grandmother overcomes me. The knot within my throat tightens more with every breath I take; while my eyes attempt to hold back the deluge of tears rapidly seeking an outlet. Shortly after my dam of tears is empty, I gather my composure and focus on reaching my destination.
It is around nine o’clock when I barge in to my aunt’s house throw my stuff near the door and rush towards my grandmother’s bedroom. I storm into her cramped bedroom which makes me feel claustrophobic because of all her furniture: armoires, bed, night-tables, television, a chair. I totally ignore my brother and my cousin.
“I’m here, my baby. I’m here to take care of you,” I utter as I see her sitting on her bed. She is wearing her thin old nightgown which reveals more than I care to see. Her back is leaning against the headboard.
“Here he is, the one you have been calling for all night, your Ti-Ti-lie” J tells grandma, with a playful and jealous pitch in his voice. I quickly take off my shoes; get in bed with her and sit behind her. I pull her towards me, having her lean on me.
“Ti-Ti-lie. I love you,” she says.
“I love you too, grandma. What is wrong?” I say, as a knot forms in my throat. I hug her.
“Say cheese.” says J as he takes a picture of me hugging her with my phone. Who would think that that picture will be our final picture together?
“Grandma, did you have something to eat? Your lips are dry, have some water please,” I plead.
“I love you, Ti-Ti-lie.” she whispers again while I hold her like a little baby, cradling her… wanting to take all her pain away.
My mother arrives shortly after me and begins tending to her as well.
“Mama, have you had something to eat?” my mother asks.
“No not yet” grandma replies.
“Well, let’s check your blood sugar level.”
My grandmother’s sugar level is dangerously low. My mother quickly orders me to give her 7-Up while she goes to the kitchen to prepare something for my grandmother to eat. My grandmother doesn’t have much of an appetite. She takes only a couple of spoonfuls of rice with chicken. As my grandmother procrastinates eating, my mother and I catch up on what has been going on with the family. My mother and I don’t have a close bond. Having a conversation with her is really an attempt to catch up with family news. She tells me that my Aunt M, had outpatient surgery to remove a lump of benign tissue from her breast. My mother believes that the stress of worrying about her daughter might have contributed to my grandmother’s undiagnosed illness.
It’s nearly midnight and I suggest to my mother that she go to sleep since she has difficulty sleeping. I assure her that grandma is in good hands and I will stay awake until she falls asleep. My mother complies with my recommendation, lies down next to my grandmother and dozes off.
There I am with my grandma lying ill and my mother asleep. I turn on the television and change the satellite channel to a soothing jazz station, hoping that my grandmother will relax and fall asleep. It was around two in the morning when my cousin, Norman, came in to check on us.
“Hey, what are you doing awake?” I ask.
“I always stay up late. I don’t go to sleep till around three or four in the morning. Do you need anything?” he answers.
“Thanks but no thanks. I have things under control. You should go to bed, dude.” I say.
“Yeah, okay, but if you need anything, wake me up” he adds emphasizing “anything.”
“Okay, goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow” I answer.
It’s a little bit past four in the morning when my grandmother falls asleep. I attempt to take a nap on the floor next to her but my senses are too alert to allow me to relax.

Part 2 tomorrow.